Forget the Spring Breakers, I Can’t Keep My Mother Inside

I count myself lucky as the biggest issue I have on my hands right now, is keeping my 79-year-old mother (who has a bigger social life than my friends and I all put together) in her house.

To say she is active is to put it mildly. She is a part of more groups currently than I will join over the course of my entire life, and when I call her at 10pm any night of the week, she is not home yet. She is at the theater. Or book club. Or with her movie group. Or rehearsal with one of the two choirs she is in.

During the day she’s doing notaries and volunteering at the cattery (yes, the cat shelter is called a cattery, you’re welcome), or she is doing the accounting for one of 8 different small businesses.

She goes to church, she also does their finances, sometimes sings with their choir, and attends meetings where they discuss… God-ish things, I suppose. Really, I can’t keep up.

When I haven’t heard from her all day (typical), I send her a text before I go to bed that says, “Are you dead?” – A couple hours later, once she is home and before she goes to bed, she texts back, “No. Are you?” and then adds the sunglasses emoji, because she is nearly 80, but she is happy to remind me she is cooler than me.

We talk almost daily, but I only see her about once a month. Because she is too busy for me. This is our relationship.

Once coronavirus meaningfully made its way to the US in March, and people were beginning to take caution, I called her and forbade her from going to the theater that night. Five hours later I called her landline and was happily surprised she actually answered.

Me: Did you go to the theater tonight? (Thinking no way because she is not crazy and she is clearly home.)

Mom: (In a definitive tone) Yes. (And then in a super optimistic and singsong “you’re in trouble” voice she continues) But I told them “My daughter doesn’t want me to be here.” And my friend Martha said her daughter didn’t want her there either!

(I simultaneously stifle a laugh, and start to tear out my hair.)

Me: Then why the hell were you both there?!

The next day, March 12, I put her on lockdown. I start calling her landline every few hours to be sure she hasn’t taken off to go run some meeting somewhere or attend an impromptu party. Seriously, the woman is 79 but her motto has been, “I’m gonna keep going so fast coronavirus won’t be able to catch up with me!”

Me: Great plan, Mom. (And I pull till more of my hair finds its way to the floor.)

But I manage to convince her to stay in Thursday and Friday and it finally feels like we now have an understanding. Saturday I call her and she is home. And she happily tells me SHE HAS A FRIEND OVER. Someone who has gone to the theater to pick up the flyers and brought them over so they can put labels on them. And also, said friend – went to the store and picked up soap, as my mom had run out of soap.

(More of my hair is sacrificed to the floor.)

Sunday, March 15, I go over to bring her groceries, take her on a walk to the beach, make her dinner, and look her in the eye about this whole lockdown business. As we sit there, another friend texts her. I read over her shoulder. It says: “What’s our plan?”

Me: Mom! THERE IS NO PLAN! Here is the plan. Get all your knitting projects lined up. Bring out any puzzles you have not done. Learn to FaceTime with your friends. THAT is the plan.

She tells her friend she can’t go out… But maybe the friend can come over???? Maybe they can go for a walk? Insert old lady doing puppy dog eyes while she tells me:

Mom: Because our Y is closed, and our Tai Chi classes have been canceled, and the café we go to after is closed.

(There is now a bald spot a few inches above my right ear.)

Thank God the mayor sends a text that night with a link to a video on Facebook, and thank God I am there to operate standard technology and play it for her. And Thank God it says “65 and over STAY HOME!”

Me: See, Mom? 65 and over are most at risk. You are over 65. You are over 75. In a matter of months you will be 80! Stay the ^&@$ at home!

Mom: Ok.

And I want to kiss the mayor.

Her phone beeps.

Mom: Trish says it might rain tomorrow but she has rain boots.

Me: No! No boots. No walk with friends. No friends. Facetime. Puzzles. Netflix and shelter in place for the love of GOD.

(A few inches above my left ear now has a matching bald spot.)

Mom: Ok. I’ll just say I’m hibernating.

Me: No. Mom, you are not a bear. This is not because it is cold outside it’s because you might DIE if you go outside! You are under lockdown.

Mom: Ok.

She texts something.

Mom: I told her my daughter won’t let me go out.

Me: Mom. I’m trying to protect you. I don’t want you to be scared so I am not telling you everything. I just want you to be happy and putter around like a respectable 80-year-old. IN YOUR HOUSE! ALONE! AND WASH YOUR HANDS! AND DON’T HUG ME!

Mom: What are you not telling me that you are protecting me from? You just said I’m gonna die if I go outside. That sounds fairly dramatic.

(She has a point, but I swear I was keeping it together till just then.)

Me: Mom, the stores are out of food. It’s like a fucking zombie apocalypse. Someone said the word pandemic and I haven’t seen a banana or a paper good since. Really, it’s getting crazy. That’s why I want you to stay inside and I will bring you things. But I cannot get all the things because there’s not much left out there.

Mom: I know. I heard. I kinda feel like I should go to the store just to experience it.

(We all know I have lost my mind by this point. Also, I am now shedding hair like a nervous kitty.)

Me: OH MY GOD!!! WHO ARE YOU?

Mom: I’m your mother!

Me: I do not understand!

Mom: Maybe I should go out and take care of you, you seem very upset by this.

Me: NO! No, Mom. I am fine. I am happy, and have it so easy – except for you! I can’t keep you in your house! The mayor can’t even keep you in your house!

By this point the pasta water and I are both boiling uncontrollably. We eat dinner, play a rousing game of Clue with some makeshift “weapons” because the set is from the 70’s and there are some missing pieces, and as I go to leave she says…

Mom: Maybe I should have my gang over to play Clue. You don’t have to share cards to play it.

Me: MOM! We both touched the dice!!!

Mom: Oh, for like five seconds.

I can’t.

Most likely this woman will survive. Knowing my mom, she will get COVID19 and not notice. (I mean, she took one Tylenol before she gave birth to me; meanwhile I need an epidural before I get laser hair removal.) And I know we aren’t testing enough in the US, and that once we do, the death rate will come down closer to the 1% they are predicting. But still, I know that losing her will feel like a 100% loss to me. So, I get on Amazon every night and send her a new puzzle and various Sudoku books in my ridiculous effort to keep her entertained inside.

I just have to keep reminding myself she will likely be fine. And as my fingers graze my now bald head, I realize it’s more likely me that will not survive the process…

Be well, all. And please. STAY INSIDE.  

 

Photo by Michaela