Evidently, I’m My Mom

Every time mom calls me, and tells me to go buy something for her, I end up getting hit with suggestions for other similar things.  Evidently, buying some replacement “skis” for her walker is enough to send me email for wheelchairs, and all manner of canes and crutches.  Ordering the very specific hard to find facial moisturizer with SPF10 that she insists upon is far easier done online than driving to three or four bricks and mortar stores, but it also means that I get bombarded with suggestions for anti-wrinkle creams by at least a dozen other manufacturers.

I’m no spring chicken, but seriously, I’m not in the market for any of that for myself.  An ordinary bottle of eye drops from a dollar store works great on puffy eyelids, under eye bags, and crow’s feet.  So does a slice of cucumber.  As for mobility, I can still scamper up and down stairs just fine.  Yeah, I’ve had a few knee and foot injuries that sort of made me wish I had a cane while they healed.  Still, I could hobble around just fine without one.  Stairs get a little interesting when it hurts more to go down them than up them, but it’s temporary, and if all else fails, you can descend them slowly, on your butt, then get up, and carry on.

When mom tells me one of her “skis” is broken, it probably means the nut on the bottom of the bolt fell off, and she can’t fix it herself.  She can’t change a light bulb, either, even if it’s at waist or chest height, like some of them are in her kitchen.

I do her bidding, and she does repay me for the cost of what she asks me to buy for her, but some of this is ridiculous.

She once drove her car through the front end of her garage, leaving a nice big hole in the wall, then told her home care assistant that I was the one who did it.  I’ve never driven her car in my entire life.  I did repair the hole in the wall with tape and spackling compound for her, but it wasn’t my fault, let alone my responsibility to repair.  And, I resent being blamed for something that happened when I was at least 45 miles away at the time.  She does shit like this all the time to me.  The good news is that we only have to visit every other weekend, and on holidays such as Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter.

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