People often remark what a wonderful daughter I am for taking care of Dearly Demented Mom. I smile and say a grateful thank you. Ah, but things are not always as they seem. So let’s take a guilt trip back in time, shall we? 

Being an only child has advantages and disadvantages. You get more than your share of presents through the years, but the payback can be harder to swallow than your last credit card bill. 

My ever-independent mother announced to me years ago, “When I get old and become too much of a burden, just slap me in a nursing home. Don’t shut your life down because of me.” 

Great. I was all set when it came to old age instructions from Mom. The day they diagnosed her with dementia I said, “Okay, Mom. It’s that time. Let’s go look at nursing homes, shall we?” To which she replied, “If you put me in a nursing home, I’ll kill you.” 

At that moment, she pushed the Guilt Button and I moved her right into the Dancing Dog Ranch. 

Sure I love her, but more importantly, DDM really knows how to push this only child’s buttons. She must have seen a wire hanger around here lately, because she’s on a roll and has just about pushed every button I have. I’m starting to feel like an iPhone being pummeled by a teenager’s thumbs. 

The other morning, while DDM was being bathed by the aid, she started screaming a blue streak. I ran in to see what the problem was. I was greeted by, “There’s my mean daughter who hates me. And she’s fat, too.” With that she punched me in the stomach which was just a way of pushing my Start A New Diet Button. Celery stick, anyone? 

Later that day, Dearly Demented Mom announced her latest husband was none other than one of my old flames who died many years ago. She gloated and told me that she knew I’d be jealous because he wanted to marry her and not me. Bam! Find the Perfect Man Button. Of course, dead men aren’t that great to date. I know. I’ve dated a few. 

Every mother since time began knows how to push the You Can’t Cook Button. Mine was pressed the other day when DDM’s grilled hot dogs were a bit on the charred side. Her remedy? Just spit out the skin, which in turn pushed the You Never Clean This House Button. 

I know it sounds like I’m complaining here, but I’m really not. There are other buttons she pushes that aren’t nearly that bad.

Take the Dress Properly Button, for example. While she’s enjoying Wheel of Fortune, Dearly Demented Mom always comments on Vanna White’s dress. She either loves or hates it. A discussion with me ensues and she always reminds me to buy clothing with matching seams. I hate to tell her, but “Made In China” translates to “Seams Don’t Match.” 

There is one button that she punches every night when she goes to bed. After I kiss her goodnight, she always says, “Nightie night. Sleep tight. And don’t let the bed bugs bite. Whoopee!” 

That’s when she pushes the I Love You Button. Maybe being an only child isn’t so bad after all. Still, I think I should throw way all our wire hangers.

Mikie Baker
www.mikiebaker.com

Copyright Medina Mikie, Ink. 2011