It is not only typical but it is also consoling to me to remember Mom's funny and often aggravating antics.  The monster that Alzheimer's is and the slow deterioration of Mom's brain functioning created a life of survival for all of us.  It was heart wrenching to see Mother's daily struggle with dysnomia and her difficulty retrieving that exact word for which she was searching; being unable to do so, she would cover up by choosing another word that often made the sentence confusing.  Later in the take-over of this disease, it became more difficult to know what she meant, what she wanted and how she was feeling.  I often equated it to a child who cannot speak and cannot communicate his/her needs and wants.  Often, the outcome turns into behavioral issues.  Mom had some of those tantrums but most of the time her pleasant, funny and sociable personality remained intact until the end.  

Prior to my digression, I wanted to share some "funny" memories.  Family and friends that know Mom well know how obsessive compulsive she has always been about cleaning.  This never changed.  One time when Kipp had a friend over to play and Seth was ready to go home, we could not locate his jacket.  They had been outside, inside, upstairs and downstairs but no jacket surfaced.  For some reason, I decided to check the clothes hamper.  It was not there, but it was in the washing machine.  Guess who picked it up and decided it needed washing!

Another incident with washing was not so funny.  I came home from work one day and entered from the garage directly into the laundry room.  Hanging on the rack was Kipp's dressy pants (you know the dry clean only) and my favorite tercel jumper.  Both were totally ruined.  I said to Mom, "Why did you wash these; they were not in the dirty clothes?"  Her reply was, "Well, if I didn't get clothes out of your closets, there would be nothing to wash."  Kipp and I thought we had figured out a way to keep her from washing and ruining our clothes; we had started hiding our dirty clothes.  She fooled us.  She just took clean clothes hanging in our closets.  Every time I went to see Mom at the nursing home, the first thing out of her mouth was, "I have been cleaning all day so don't mess up the house."

Mom was a beautiful woman inside and out.  Mary, Dave and I have often discussed how it was more than that; she must have had a sexual aura about her similar to what lures Japanese beetles to a beetle trap.  When Mom’s good friend, Marie, moved to Atlanta, Mom was obsessed in wanting to visit her, not for a day but for weeks. Then I learned why. One time when I picked up Mom, there was this man putting “his” suitcase in my car.  I was the one confused now as I asked, “who are you and why are you putting your suitcase in my car?” Mom had invited him to come home with her.  Bill was a very nice man but he and Mom got into a lot of trouble.  For example, one day I got a call from a department store in Atlanta letting me know she left her purse in the store.  At this point in time, Bill who was legally blind, Mom who had had her keys “lost” (taken away from her but don’t tell her) and Marie who never learned to drive could not get to Atlanta by foot.  I was confused; it could not be my Mom.  Guess what, it was.  Bill and Mom had ridden Marta and had to make several transfers in the process.  I just about had a coronary right there.  The solution was I often had to go to Atlanta and pick up Bill and bring him back to our home.  Of course, it got complicated there as they often would take walks when we lived in Brooks on 3+ acres and would get lost.  I decided it was time to move back to Peachtree City to a cluster housing subdivision.  There I had great neighbors, particularly Mary, Dave, Ann and Austin, They all kept a close watch over her, and I was on their speed dial.  It did not take long before she had another boyfriend who lived with his daughter and son-in-law at Ashton Park.  Let me just say, I had to kick him out several times.  His walker did not fool me.  Then, even in the nursing home, she was quite the “southern bell(e).”  I could tell many other stories in this arena but I will file those away safely.

As a matter of fact, I will stop the story totally.  There are way too many funny, scary and unbelievable episodes that put the gray hair on my head.  Funny thing, though, she had little gray hair, even at 80 yrs. old.  Maybe I should have learned from her.