On Mixed Feelings - vacation minus one

It is early morning on Day 2 of our vacation. Mike is still asleep, Elfgirl and Sparky have hidden themselves in the bathroom because they just cannot sleep past 6:30, but we've made it clear that we are NOT getting up until 8. Such is travel with kids under 10.

Day 1 was typical. The last minute frenzy of packing, doing the transfer station run, asking the kids if they really had everything they needed. Being on the road for two hours before we discovered no on actually brought the DVDs to the car, and realizing it was going to be like back in the good old days (last year, lol). And yet it wasn't. On the way up respite care called to clarify an incident with Dad's meds the night before. Apparently the nurse on duty didn't look at his sheet and was giving him a bunch of meds, some of them wrong, all of them the wrong way, right before Mom's eyes. Such is the way of residential care, we are finding. Things must be precisely spelled out, and even when they are, they've got to know you have your eye on them all the time. Their intentions are good, all of them, but they are human, systems are imperfect, and the most important thing to remember is to keep your head when communicating. There is a way of letting them know of your concern and even upset without burning any bridges. And so while hurtling up the highway through northern NH into VT I've got the phone on speaker and am talking med schedules, and the changing of shifts.

Dad has been in respite for 3 going on 4 days, and the house felt odd from the first day on. At first I thought it was just quiet, and strangely empty, kind of like when the dog goes away they day before we leave town. But Mike said, "No, the house feels normal." And it's true, though it initially feels awful to say. Breakfast is so quiet, with the kids still waking up while eating, Mom comes down, and suddenly she's at a loss because, I don't know what to do with myself," except sit down and eat. The rhythm of our house centers mostly around the kids' day and is so predictable. Bedtime is a peaceful, routine affair. The main difference is that Mom and I are still unable to sleep through the night. Mom still wakes twice, even though no on needs to go to the bathroom, and I am just plain wakeful. I'm sure that by the time we have adjusted Dad will be home, and we will go back to our earlier patterns. I haven't allowed myself to dwell on whether that is a good or bad thing, I just have the expectation that this will be what it is.

Last night, after checking into our hotel, and spending far too long trying to figure out where to go for dinner, we ended up at Jack Astor's Bar and Grill, a place that reminds me a little of Catcus Jack's, but much larger, and if the appearance of the wait staff is any indication, a lot hipper. It was huge, LOUD, and hopping. After a typical Saturday evening wait, we were tucked into a long booth. Dinner was great, the staff was so nice, but towards the end Mom leaned over and said, "we could've never come here if Dad was with us. and I wouldn't be like this either." Yes. For once Mom could feel like a regular Amah, sharing food with the kids, asking if they wanted another hot wing, or a wet nap, read the comics decorating the walls, leisurely enjoy her food, without worrying that Dad was going to have a meltdown or start shouting because dinner took a long time and it was NOISY (in a good way) in there. This contentment though, was immediately followed by, "Sigh, it's too bad about Dad, he couldn't be here." To be followed by tears, and finally saying, "I feel guilty." There is not much I can say to this, except to affirm that her feelings are normal, and to remind her that her friends are praying for her, because they see how tired she is, and how she needs this break.

I suspect that the next few days will run this pattern. She will have moments of joy and fun, like when the Gift jumped to be her roommate, to be followed by moments of regret, when she remembers how Dad is missing out. Telling her that Dad isn't really missing out is unconvincing. But hopefully the good times will be enough to ease the sting of the dark moments, when she is relaxed enough to have her own thoughts.