2:15 is late to be eating.

I’ve heard this statement more than ten times leading up to today. Once the Easter plans were made and my mom could only get a 2:15 p.m. seating at their retirement community, she tried to rearrange the day.

She doesn’t like the time. It’s not my favorite time for brunch either.  I watch as my parents manage as much as they can.  However, just making this reservation seemed very difficult for them.  I’m not surprised after reading the psychological testing for my mom. But she’s trying very hard to manage and maintain their independence.

When we arrive today and make it to the lunchroom, I see the table where we are seated has us sitting down to eat at 12:15 PM. The table next to ours has us with a reservation at 2:15 PM.  Somehow they made two reservations.  My mom is miffed that they (the staff) scheduled them for two times and failed to call them and let them know.

I’m trying to find the balance and words to help them as they try, then get frustrated by some of the simple tasks that now challenge them.

We continue to walk a fine line as we see their failings but are unwelcomed to assist them. I know keeping up this façade must be tiring for them and figuring out how to break it down overwhelms me some days. Exhausted.

If you have had success in managing this transition with your parents, please share that with me and the other readers.

2 thoughts on “2:15 is late to be eating.

  1. In my family’s situation — an 84 year old father in denial, trying to care singlehandedly at home for his wife with dementia — advice was unwelcomed too, for years. We knew that it would take some major event — hopefully not too catastrophic — to change the situation. Would it be Ann accidentally setting the house on fire? Wandering away and being found on the expressway? Surely the fact that Ann was regularly walking around the house wielding a kitchen knife would cause Dad to do something? He simply packed up all the knives in the kitchen and hid them in the garage. So, we wait for the ‘event’. In our case, we were lucky in that the event that changed the dynamic for good was my Dad’s need for heart bypass surgery. With that, Ann was put into a memory care facility “temporarily” just until Dad recovered, but we all knew — and hoped — it would be permanent which was the case. What I have taken away from this, and heard from other friends in similar situations, is that when that ‘event’ happens — hopefully nothing more catastrophic than perhaps a fender bender — act quickly and decisively to make some changes.

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