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I want to be Mother Teresa.
But a hot Mother Teresa, with long hair, short skirts, Botox and a blow dry.
I blame my mother for this twisted fantasy. She’s always helping somebody. As a child I remember her driving the nuns around. The same nuns that made my sisters kneel on frozen peas if their uniform skirts were too short. And you know my skirts were going to be too short.
I am my Mother after all. I help people in need. But I need things too. Like toilet paper. Is that too much to ask?
Some places I’ve been are strictly BYOTP (BRING YOUR OWN TP)
I once showed a kid in Ethiopia a roll of toilet paper. He showed me his left hand (the right one is for eating).
I got stung by a bee searching for TP in Mexico. I was squatting on the potty, and when I say potty I mean a porta-potty without the porta part.
I was on a house build with members of my church. I knew nothing about building houses, and not much about church. But I wanted to pass on lessons I had learned from my mom to my son. Lessons like: Volunteer. Help someone. Forget about your own crap for awhile. But I was about to learn a lesson or two myself.
First, don’t expose your ass to a bunch of bees.
There were pests in the pestilence. Bees buzzing around me as I searched for a leaf, something, anything to use as TP. I got stung in the gluteus assimus region.
Second lesson…I felt alive. I realized I was happy. Happy as a pig in…well you know what I was in. I was dirty, hungry, thirsty (you don’t want to hydrate when there’s no place to pee), but fulfilled.
They say enlightenment can come in a flash (and I was kind of flashing). But that bee made me realize I hadn’t thought about my own problems all day. And that was as refreshing as the beer I had when I got back to the hotel.
I prefer my wine, but doing good is my other drug of choice.I almost get high when I’m helping someone.
That was a life changing pee, not that I changed my life.
But I knew doing good felt good. It was the beginning of the whole Mother Teresa fantasy.
It took me many years, and losing my job, to really get that helping others might be better than gossiping on TV. I’ve been off TV for five years. I’ve taken six tips around the world to volunteer on various missions. I’ve almost died twice. not doing anything heroic. Both times I was in a cab. Once with a high cab driver in Bangkok (One Night in Bancock almost became my last). But that’s a story for another blog.
Lately I’ve taken on a mission closer to home. Downstairs in fact. I’m raising a parent. My mom.
Last night as I put her to bed she asked me if she had done anything important in her life.
I’m her memory.
I reminded her that she was one of the few white woman to attend an African-American University. Did you see the movie Hidden Figures? My dad was the Chief of Police in that town around that time. My mom took classes at Hampton Institute. When we moved to DC she finished her degree. Then got her Masters with me. Yes. I went to college with my mom. Long before that Rodney Dangerfield movie Back To School.
I was at George Washington University as an undergrad and she was in graduate school. I’d hide from her on campus. Living in fear she’d show up the dorm and check the fridge. Which usually had all the ingredients for a wine or Diet Pepsi omelet. Mom was studying Art History. The guys on the basketball team would take those classes for an easy A. It was humiliating to hear them say “Your mom ruined the curve” I was proud of what she was doing. But did she have to do it with me?
My son was terrified family history would repeat itself. Especially when I began to teaching broadcasting at Chapman University. Needless to say he didn’t go to Chapman.
I also reminded mom that she was always decades ahead of any trend. She did yoga, cooked healthy and used a computer before anyone I knew.
And I told her that she was the best mother. That she had instilled in me a love of God and helping others. She’d drag my cousin, me and half the girls in our neighborhood to Georgetown Hospital so we could be Candy Stripers. I was in it for the cute uniform and the cute doctors. It should have been obvious that superficial me was going to be an entertainment reporter.
Recently I told my friend Leeza Gibbons that I was helping to take care of Mom. Leeza said “There’s nothing harder for a daughter to do than walk down a caregivers path’.
And I’m not going to pretend that adult diapers are as cute as baby poop.
I ran into Maria Shriver at a fundraiser. We talked about how no one talks about taking care of a parent. Maria and Lezza have done so much for awareness of Alzheimer’s and the elderly.
Marianne Williamson is giving a online class called Miraculous Aging. She says negativity ages us. Mom drives me insane asking the same question again and again. But it occurs to me that the question is usually “Are you happy?”
I am mostly happy. And I think most of this comes from my mom.
Even my weird bathroom obsession comes from her. She always waited up for us to get home at night. I’d often find he reading a book and sometimes smoking a cigarette (see…she wasn’t perfect) in the bathroom. I know I sound like I smoke but I never did.
But I did get just about everything else from her.
Taking care of her is not exactly going out and saving the world. It’s more like going in and saving the world around you.
I’m going to stop writing now to warm up her cup of tea.
I’m not hot Mother Teresa.
And I am in need of a good blow dry.
But I try…
Thanks for the love. Xo DL
You and your mom are amazing. And I’m so grateful for your visors to my mom as she was lying in the h hospital room, on her way out of this life. You really walk like you talk. I love toy,
Cousin Claudia
P.S. You’re a beautiful writer, besides being a hot Mother Teresa wanna be!
Much love to you Cookie! Xo DL
My age is 14 and attending a Mother’s Day Mass with my mother, during the sermon the Priest brings up
isn’t it too bad that one mother can care for 5 children but 5 children can’t care for one mother. My mother
turning to me begging me to never put her into a home but to allow her to always live in her own home. I did just that. At the age of 85 she had a stroke, with my brother caring for her 4 days a week and my working full time and driving from Pasadena to San Diego weekly to care for her 3 days. Mom passed onto the other side at age 91. Caring was hard, using all my savings and pension for her care. My #2 brother not taking any time to handle any caregiving made the request regarding her tombstone epitaph—
“Because of you we survived.” You see mom became a widow at age 36, 5 mos pregnant with #5. She raised 5 children on $200.00 per month, and no supplement income—-her feelings were to be there for her children and others. My mother passed quiet while napping. Thanks mom for your teachings of Love,
Kindness, Patience toward others and especially “KARMA.”
Such love. Thank you for telling me your story, and her story. Xo DL
Such a beautiful blog Dorothy. ❤️ Taking care of an aging parent is so difficult and especially when it deals with dementia. Sending lots of ❤️ And
Thank you. Xo DL
❤️
I am so glad you shared this. I too am a care giver, . I really wish we had a different name for that .. my Sweet Mom developed Dementia about 10 years ago. Mom and Dad moved in shortly after her Dx. we caught it early and things were good for a long while . Last Dec my Dad had open heart surgery he was dx with Alzheimer’s about 9 months before his surgery . He never really came back after his surgery . So now I care for both. Dad’s had moved rather quickly he is so frustrated . We have Hospice care. They come and give me 6 hours of relief a week. People tell you that you are a Saint for caring for them. I don’t feel saintly. It took awhile to digest all of this. I really want to snuggle and have my mom back. My Dad has become cold and empty. It is the toughest job I have ever had. Hey, I raised three high schoolers. Thank you again for sharing. If you have any helpful reading material I would be most grateful.
Hugs from one caregiver to another.
Cindee
Sending you prayers and love. Xo DL
You mentioned a couple books .. if it ok can I get the names . I am desperate to find some material to read . Thank you ..
OO XX
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Your blogs bring me JOY with your truth, humor and a bit of sarcasm…. Love on your Mom and live in her world as you will learn a ton about events of long ago you had no idea occurred. Hang on as there will be times you feel as if you are on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. Enjoy your MOM!