I have made some really bad decisions in my life. For example, my ex-husband was a bi-polar, compulsive liar, hard-core porn addict. But that is a whole other story on its own that I won’t get into right now because like other bad decisions I have made, I took my lumps, learned my lesson, and moved on. But this decision I may never be able to overcome.
After my brother passed, my mother had to determine whether to stay in her current house and hire the help she needed or find a smaller apartment. She also needed to decide on whether she would stay up in Michigan where all her family and friends were or move down to Georgia, to be closer to me. There was no way I was moving back up to Michigan to take care of her. I left over 30 years ago and vowed never to live up there again – I HATE SNOW!
We tried to get my mother to move into a senior community, either here or there, with assisted living attached for when she needed it. She has had Parkinson’s for almost 30 years, and the symptoms started to become more pronounced. She would eventually need quite a bit help. My current husband, Ron, and I found a really nice place about 15 minutes from our house that would allow her to come spend time at our home anytime she wanted, but still have a community of people her age she could hang out with and make new friends. I wanted to live there! They had activities planned every day of the week, trips to different events or casinos, a hair and nail salon on premises and a beautiful swimming pool. They would even take you to your doctor’s appointments or grocery shopping. Another perk was that they provided you three meals a day, crafted by a local chef, and had snack rooms located throughout the facility. It was like being on a cruise every day of your life. Who wouldn’t want to live there? Granted, the price was high, but at least down here in Georgia the cost was about half of what you would pay for less amenities up in Michigan.
Not too long later, I got a call from one of my mother’s closest friends, who said that my mother was very upset and wanted to come live with us in our home. Right after that I called her up to talk about this new revelation, and she did confirm that she wanted to move in with Ron and me. I was concerned about her health and how much assistance she may need, but my cousin’s wife kept saying that she was sharp in mind and my mom said she would only need “some” help.
I did have some reservations, not on her physical or mental health, but how she had treated me my whole life. There are a lot of historical differences and conflicts between the two of us, but I was hoping that since she doesn’t have anyone else since my brother passed last year and my dad died almost 12 years ago, she might have changed or at least mellowed.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. It was worse, much worse.
House of Cards
We live in a very small home, only about 1100 square feet, which is just perfect for Ron, me, and our menagerie of pets.
If my mother was to move in, we would definitely need more room. After discussing this issue with my mother, she agreed to pay for us to put an addition on the back of the house; even after we told her it would be approximately 70 thousand dollars. I guess she really wanted to live with us. In addition, Ron offered to float the first 15 thousand as the down payment until she could get money out of her annuity and sell her house. That was another big mistake.
We decided to add a 400 square foot room off the back of our house, that would be split into my craft room and her sitting area. Currently, the bedroom that she would be moving into was set up as my craft room. We also would need to outfit the bathroom in the hallway that Ron was using at the time to be her personal bathroom with a walk-in shower, taller toilet, and handicap rails. That meant Ron and I would need to share a bathroom too. The bathrooms in our house are not that big; this is going to be a tight squeeze trying to fit two people into one bathroom.
First, we would need to build up the back area with concrete. There was only a small space in the back for a deck and my flower garden before it went down into a hill.
The most heartbreaking for me was that my flower garden was going to be torn up because half of the new addition would be covering it and the construction workers would be using the rest as a pathway to the build site. I had worked so hard to get it the way I wanted, and everything was just beginning to grow beautifully. Now it was to be destroyed. To make matters more distressing, one day I went to look around and noticed one of the workers had ripped out a trellis with a beautiful red native honeysuckle plant and threw it down the back hill. I was livid! The plant was nowhere near where they needed to be, it was tucked up the eves against the house. Luckily, when Ron came home, he promptly replanted it, and it did survive and is still flowering to this day.
To get started the builder would need to set up a network of rebar to pour the concrete for the foundation of the new room. I can’t count how many times the county assessor came out to tell them to re-do it to code. Eventually, they did get it right and were able to pour the foundation and start framing.
This part wasn’t too bad since it was outside; but remember, I worked from home and had to deal with some loud construction work and two dogs who loved to bark anytime anyone went by the back door. The problem was that it was going to get more unpleasant before it got better, when they closed in the framing and removed the door between the main house and the new room to make an archway connecting the two areas.
After that door was removed, the noise was much louder, the dogs were more agitated with the comings and goings of the workers, and the dust was getting bad, even though they did put a piece of plastic between the two sections. This was not good for me since I have an allergy to dust and can get very sick if I am not careful. Ron worked three days a week, leaving at five in the morning and not returning until seven-thirty at night. That made me the one to deal with any issues that came up, such as workers needing to plug in electrical equipment within the house or to call Ron at work for answers to more detailed questions. It did not make for a conducive environment to concentrate at work. The worst day was when the plumber showed up at around four o’clock in the afternoon and wanted to work on the new bathroom, we were putting in the addition. He didn’t leave until well after eight pm.
If any of you have done any kind of renovations, you know what I am talking about. What should have been a three-month project turned into six months, and a leaky roof in the additional bathroom that took almost a year to fix.
All in all, once it was done it was a nice big space and should be enough for what we wanted. Or so we thought.
The room was barely done, when my mom started pushing to move in; and she can be very persistent and annoying. I told her I wasn’t ready, but she said that is fine, we will figure it out later. The only thing I was able to do was move my craft supplies out of the bedroom to make sure she would be able to move her things into the bedroom when she got down here.
Well, we never figured it out later and to this day the room doesn’t look any different than the day I moved all my crafts in there.
We went through this horrendous experience especially for my mother, I was very happy with my home the way it was. I had it decorated the way I wanted, everything was in its place and organized. It was my home, my safe space, my sanctuary from the world and now that has all changed.
Moving Heaven and Earth
Would have been much easier than moving my mother.
As we were planning for the move, she would call and ask if she should bring this or that. I told her, we already have everything; just pack your clothes, favorite mementos and decorations, and any personal paperwork that she may need. I kept telling her and Ron that we should hire movers because she wanted to bring some of her furniture for the bedroom and the new room we were building. Ron and my mother both investigated a couple of different movers, but it was quite expensive and didn’t want to spend the extra money. They kept insisting that we could do it ourselves. Granted we have a lot of family in Michigan to help pack up, but no one thought about when we got here to Georgia and didn’t take into consideration that my back was still bothering me from my bout of Shingles. I kept insisting on the movers, but as usual, no one listened to me and kept telling me that we can do it ourselves.
At long last, we got up to Michigan for the big move, Ron about had a stroke. They rented a 26-foot U-Haul, and it was going to be completely packed. Even after a few garage sales over the summer and giving items away, the house still looked like it always did, full of stuff. I spent the next few days, listening to him cuss and whine about all the junk she was bringing with her. I knew this was going to happen, I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen, and I was powerless to stop it. She had packed all her pots and pans, spices, food she had canned over the years, household decorations, furniture, office supplies that have been around since I was a kid, and even a box of old greeting cards. I don’t think there wasn’t anything she didn’t take. She even packed up the head of a deer she killed one year and had it mounted.
Now where was that going to go? The addition was designed as a sun room with more windows than walls and that thing was definitely not going anywhere in the main part of the house. I put my foot down on that decision. I take care of live animals; I am not into dead ones. That just creeps me out!
There was no way this all was going to fit into our tiny home, but mom insisted on bringing it all. We were going to need to rent a storage unit for all the overflow and ended up getting a ten-by-ten unit. What didn’t fit in the house and garage went in there and that unit was packed completely full!
To top it all off, the bed we were sleeping on was packed on the truck to take to Georgia. On the night before we left, Ron and I ended up sleeping on a cheap blow-up mattress, that kept deflating all night long. It was a rough night as we kept slip sliding around on the plastic and getting closer to the floor. We did not get any sleep and we had to get up early to begin the long 16-hour drive down to Georgia. Which was an adventure all on its own.
The ride was fine. My mother rode in her car, which she thought she would be able to drive once she got to Georgia, with a friend who came along to help her get settled in. Ron and I were in the U-Haul truck, not the most comfortable vehicle out there, but at least we got some peace and quiet and time alone. The fun really began when we got to the hotel room the four of us shared. Mind you this process is something that I am very familiar with, it is always the same any time I have traveled with my mother.
First off, we had to carry in all the suitcases she packed to bring into the hotel (I think there were three in total). The rest of us had one. Next, we had to get her a bucket of ice for her Diet Coke and make sure that it stayed full. In my opinion she was addicted to Diet Coke. She had to have it all the time, with lots and lots of ice. Finally, we needed to get the food; she is one of those that need to eat on a regular schedule and often. Plus, if she wasn’t eating a full meal, she was snacking, and this got a lot more troublesome as she got older, but you could never tell her anything.
When we arrived at our house the next evening, we had no one to help us unpack. It would be just the two of us moving all the heavy boxes and furniture. Her friend helped some, but she was mainly there to get my mother settled into her room and my mother, at her age and health, couldn’t help at all. We couldn’t wait to gather others to help on the weekend; the truck had to be back the next evening, or it would cost more money. Luckily, Ron’s sister-in-law offered to come over the next morning and help move a few things. She may be small but, she is mighty, and I was glad to have her help. However, she even got hurt moving a big, heavy China cabinet that my mother just had to bring. And where was this going to fit?? Like I said, no wall space…
Thanks Mom!
Just thinking of and recounting all these events makes me tired and mad. It’s time to decompress, relax and do some more coloring.