tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54159649523814773412024-03-13T07:40:16.704-05:00The Moma DiaryA journal of living with my 98 year old grandmother, day in and day out, her ramblings, my rants.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.comBlogger701125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-60413084961307630502012-08-29T21:01:00.001-05:002012-08-29T21:01:39.317-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just an empty lot with a lot of memories. Ghosts of my past, my father's past, and her past wandering around looking for that sweet little pink house. Sad......but I am happy the house was not torn down, and that now another family will have sweet memories in that precious little mill house.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-9560858077734408912012-08-29T20:50:00.000-05:002012-10-16T20:41:46.413-05:00Mill Village House Refuses to Leave Alabama City<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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House movers broke an axle moving the house to Walnut Park. I like to think Moma's little house just refused to move! Thanks for the idea from my cousin, Nancy!<br />
<br />Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-53597291437117061792012-07-02T09:25:00.001-05:002012-07-02T09:36:23.681-05:00Just a memorial....she's not there!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The flowers were beautiful!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benny Campbell did outstanding on the casket blanket ( totally expected)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun was so hot that day that the flowers wouldn't last long.<br />
So Sherry and I went over and gathered us a few.<br />
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</tbody></table>Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-766343539096908922012-07-02T09:19:00.002-05:002012-07-02T09:19:44.117-05:00Afterwards.....<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJc9b2woIN8cthb_Jhoq5IN1AfqQy7R57GDaWAQz2Ui8Vgy-Q_jsS1kVm0HaM_vAZk7gW-jnqH9l7vVJpFzjgrt8Pytmz4RRd4p7B8pbGstuoHXRiod-UIUh74ndWUFrfCKdWIklyNd6C/s1600/Julie's+stuff+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJc9b2woIN8cthb_Jhoq5IN1AfqQy7R57GDaWAQz2Ui8Vgy-Q_jsS1kVm0HaM_vAZk7gW-jnqH9l7vVJpFzjgrt8Pytmz4RRd4p7B8pbGstuoHXRiod-UIUh74ndWUFrfCKdWIklyNd6C/s320/Julie's+stuff+041.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We ate her "Peggy Logan" cake without her. She got a better offer.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I kept this up for quite awhile. I just couldn't erase it.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-73275027853274626762012-07-02T09:14:00.001-05:002012-07-02T09:14:30.645-05:00July 12, 2012<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgU7TJ59yp1cIf2a-fRlSwamsniNPOLnpbRUZjdOrloCkd3Gf62Zv2slI5660XmS25VYsDlqp7l1kOsrp3D-r6SW14pxA6Sk1CHL8pMm4YzqkSRFKF0f8aTXdQ6cAtoA1-iPiuDq1PARct/s1600/Julie's+stuff+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgU7TJ59yp1cIf2a-fRlSwamsniNPOLnpbRUZjdOrloCkd3Gf62Zv2slI5660XmS25VYsDlqp7l1kOsrp3D-r6SW14pxA6Sk1CHL8pMm4YzqkSRFKF0f8aTXdQ6cAtoA1-iPiuDq1PARct/s320/Julie's+stuff+038.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day before her birthday</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her new pajamas from Connie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjcE8sEIAQiBxSRvM8C7TFAak8RTjqtQYfVGIiY1x6EJ89Ob4Dj_eAELb9ZHLOmgjXVex78l0y2aOumB42dJMzGDFo5gPCfxKr90Dp0sGjifqlX_0VilN8WDQuJ31nezXv-bHSE4fLG3w/s1600/Julie's+stuff+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjcE8sEIAQiBxSRvM8C7TFAak8RTjqtQYfVGIiY1x6EJ89Ob4Dj_eAELb9ZHLOmgjXVex78l0y2aOumB42dJMzGDFo5gPCfxKr90Dp0sGjifqlX_0VilN8WDQuJ31nezXv-bHSE4fLG3w/s320/Julie's+stuff+040.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She told Connie she was going to be 100</td></tr>
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<br />Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-68733472709231131782012-06-18T11:18:00.001-05:002012-06-18T11:18:29.274-05:00Heaven is a little bit sweeter!Little did I know when I was writing Moma's birthday post that she was already celebrating her birthday with Jesus. She died in her sleep, but took her next breath in Heaven. I am sure she was greeted by family and friends, but I KNOW that Jesus took her hand as soon as she got there.<br />
I am not sure how I will handle this blog. I will probably do some final postings, but just wanted to give you a heads up dear readers. Your comments have kept me going, and writing this blog was the most therapeutic thing I could have done.<br />
Thank you for reading and for your kind comments.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-27922044705408760882012-06-13T09:55:00.001-05:002012-06-13T09:55:33.292-05:0099 years of MomaHappy Birthday to the best friend I have ever had. You were there when I needed you. You were there when I wanted you. You were there for birthdays, Christmas, Easter, and all the important times in my life. You taught me how to shoot a basketball and marbles. You jumped rope with me. We played Old Maids, even though Papa hated you "playing cards" with me. You instilled a love for animals, chocolate, having fun and laughing until my sides hurt. We played Doodlebug on your front porch too many times to count. You taught me to pray, read my Bible and hide the Word in my heart. You took me to the Falls, piano lessons, visiting the sick with you, and to your church Christmas play. We made fudge together every Christmas, and then you made it with my kids.(I am so happy you were "still" Moma for my kids) Remember how we used to bounce a tennis ball against your house until Papa would turn red and make us stop? Thank you for ALWAYS being there for me! Happy Birthday Moma!<br />
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<br />Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-56099175802176363762012-06-03T16:05:00.000-05:002012-06-03T16:06:24.766-05:00I thought it was Blue MONDAY!Isn't Monday supposed to be blue? Not Sunday! But today, my Sunday is blue. Not really sure why except that there are parts of my life that I cannot control that I really seriously need control over. I feel so betrayed in so many ways. Moma is not one of the reasons but she has added to my stress today. I slept late because I took a Flexeril before bed last night because of the immense pain I am in. I am sure it is only arthritis due to my being so overweight, but it is still pain, BAD pain. It wears me out and I am tired of being worn out so I just succumbed to the drug thing (which I usually would rather ride it out with no drugs because of all the side effects). ANYWAY, Mildred woke me up standing over my bed with a pillow in her hand. "Julie, Julie.....where do you want me to put this?" Ugh.....after telling her "in your room" 5 times she finally got it. Then she proceeded to start making snarky comments about how junky my room is and asking whose stuff this is. I do not handle interviews well when I first wake up, so I screamed "MINE!!! MINE!!!! It's all MINE!" She said, "Well I don't give a damn.....you don't want to talk to me......mumble mumble" and she turned and left my room. Of course, she just went around the bend to the kitchen. I started fixing her breakfast and she continued with the questions. I tried to ignore her. Finally, I went over and turned on the TV to METV where reruns of the Brady Bunch were running (right up my alley). There was a Christmas episode. So, long story short, Moma thinks that it is almost time for Christmas. She wished Kerry a very Merry Christmas (causing Christopher to blow drink out his nose) and she has asked at least 25 times how long it is until Christmas. I know I should be laughing, but it is just an epic example of how stupid my life is. If you pray, pray for me.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-28701562147993411222012-05-30T20:23:00.004-05:002012-05-30T20:23:50.128-05:00Must've been a virus............She's baaaaackkkkkk! She either had a virus or has miraculously bounced back from a stroke. She is as irritating as always. Tonight at supper I had visions of smashing her face into her plate repeatedly. Smart mouth! It's like being in the room with a severely autistic individual who is asseverating on something. I couldn't wait to march her tail to bed! Good Night Nurse!Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-16865326425769690582012-05-28T09:16:00.001-05:002012-05-28T09:16:49.340-05:00It's different now....This post is more for documentation than anything. I can't explain the difference. She is quite different.<br />
<br />
Friday night, Kerry went out with friends leaving Rebekah and me alone with Moma. We got Firehouse Subs and she pulled her usual fit over wanting mine instead of hers. I gave it to her, but she only ate a few bites. Then she vomited for 30 minutes. She really had nothing to throw up, but she gagged and gagged. She went to bed about 7ish. She got up late Saturday, and basically stayed in the bed most of the day. Rebekah kept her while I entertained my high school friend from Virginia. She whined all day for food. Rebekah fed her but it was like it wasn't enough. Then Sunday, she didn't get up until after 3:00. I checked on her but let her sleep. She got up and ate, then did the vomiting thing again. She was MEAN at supper, even to my in-laws. She called my mother-in-law a damn liar. She thought it was Christmas Day. When we corrected her, she said, "I should've known it wasn't Christmas because I don't have any presents", THEN she said, but I've had one thing......We all looked at her questioning.....She said, "I've had a damn good time!" We fell out laughing. Within a few minutes, she was back in bed (and the vomiting started again). When I went in to clean her up, it was as if she couldn't move her mouth. I'm thinking small stroke. Lord, have mercy.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-58675592454932102882012-05-20T13:32:00.000-05:002012-05-20T13:37:51.484-05:00What a weekend!Wow! It's been such a weekend, I am not sure where to start. But being the symmetrical fool that I am, I'll start with Friday.<br />
<h2>
Friday:</h2>
I came home more than a little irritated and upset. It seems that my new principal and the old counselor have set out to completely and totally destroy me. Every day there is a new rumor about where he is having me transferred. It is NO secret that I have applied for another job or two, but not within our system. If I am going to stay with the GCS, then I choose my school. Why? Truthfully, God has given me such a heart for my East Gadsden kids. They <i>are</i> my heart. I love middle school, and have NO desire to return to elementary unless it is back to a classroom (which I'm a little scared of in these crazy times). Call me crazy, but middle school (and especially EASTSIDE middle school) is a perfect fit for me. After school, I was on the phone trying to dispel the rumor that I am being transferred back to Walnut Park (full circle). I came in the house on the phone, which I rarely do, as Moma doesn't recognize my cell as a telephone. After the sitter left, I was in the kitchen talking to my friend and Moma called out, "Just call it all off!" I turned and looked at her. "Huh?" I asked. "Just call everything off!" I nodded okay, having no clue what she meant and finished my conversation. When I got off the phone, I asked her what she was talking about. She stood, threw up her arms, and declared, "Just call everything off!" I said, "Ohhhhkay". Then she pointed to the date board. And said, "call it off", and kept nodding. So I quickly came to her aid.<br />
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She was fairly quiet, the rest of the night. But when I went to change her bed (because it was wet, of course), I found this (see picture). I called Rebekah in to see it. We both nearly lost it. I teared up. I think she is ready for a baby doll.<br />
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That is the sweet little doll I put in her stocking at Christmas. She looks kind of like a Cabbage Patch doll.<br />
So sweet (not Moma, the moment....)<br />
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<h2>
Saturday:</h2>
I made my mind up that I was not going to waste a day sitting around waiting for her to go back to bed so I could get stuff done, so I chose to make Saturday my "errand" day. I told Moma at breakfast that I had some places to go and I wanted her to go with me. She asked me to lay out her clothes and she'd get herself dressed. We started out headed to the cleaners, then by Charlotte's store to get a baby gift, then on to the Gadsden Mall. I needed a new bra, some tennis shoe inserts, and I wanted to find her some flat shoes and a little knit jogging suit (something comfy and not dressy). We parked and she tried to refuse to get out of the car. Finally, I got her out, and loaded in her wheel chair and off we went. She wouldn't admit it in a million years but she loves that wheel chair. We shopped around a bit. She tried on some shoes for me, and just as I was about to buy them, she said, "Let's just wait....." I knew she really didn't like them because they were flat. Ugh....We headed to the food court for lunch. (Sidebar: the Gadsden Mall has the MOST pitiful food court known to man. It's Asian, Mexican, Italian, or Chik-Filet...Not a hamburger to be had). Needless to say, we chose Chik-Filet. I got her settled at the table, after we ordered, and went back to get our food. When I returned, she was talking to some man. He was just eating her up. I sat down, and he was less than 20 steps from us and she said, "Who the hell was that?". I nearly choked. She was making lots of precious observations like, "I ain't never seen so many big fat people in one place". I finished eating and kept waiting on her but she was too busy looking around.<br />
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She informed me that she was fine, for me to go do what I needed to do. Hesitantly, I walked over to Bath and Body Works and the GNC while she finished. When I returned, she had 3 tiny pieces of chicken on a napkin. I sat and waited again. Finally, I said, "Moma, let's run up to Belk's. I might buy you something." She begged, "Please let me sit here and watch. I won't go no where." I realized that she was people watching and seemed perfectly happy, so off to Belk's I went. When I returned, she requested something sweet. I said, "Well, let's stop and get a cookie on our way out". She let me know real quick that I could walk down there and get her one, she was not ready to go. So I did. Then I went to the book store (I promise I was only in there a minute, unlike usual) and then over to Victoria Secret. When I went back to get her to LEAVE the mall, she resisted. She was so mad at me. "I AIN'T READY TO GO!!!!!!!" she growled. I loaded her back into the car. Time spent at Gadsden Mall: 2 hours. We pulled out of our parking place and she said, "Get me some more drink". I argued that I had asked her before we left if she wanted a refill and she refused it. She began just ripping me to shreds. I mean literally blessing me out. I pulled into the other Chik-Filet and ordered her a small tea. I wanted to put her out at this point. What did she do to repay me for my gesture? She began pouring the new cup of tea into the old cup which still had tea in it, so yes.....poured it all over herself and my seats. (Maybe that is why Kerry bought me a 1998 Grand Prix with 189,000 miles on it). I grabbed the old cup from her, poured the contents out the window and slung it into the back seat. "You suck the very life out of me!!! You take away every bit of joy I receive for doing something nice for you and with you! You are absolutely driving me crazy!" I screamed at her. "Thanky" was all she said. I was livid! Her antics caused me to forget to go to the pharmacy and pick up Mr. Payne's meds. He, more than anyone, doesn't need to skip a blood pressure pill. She was mean and hateful the rest of the afternoon. I am seriously considering taking her to the food court every Saturday and making sure she has food, then running like a cheetah.<br />
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<h2>
Sunday:</h2>
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When you wake up to this. You know something has gone awry. Kerry met her in the kitchen with a pajama top and slip on. No walker. Her slip was covered in.....well, not urine.....yeah, the other. She had no diaper on. He gave her a diaper and sent her walking. She apparently put it on. I woke up and found this.<br />
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Yes, that is Moma wadded up in a ball wrapped up in her blanket. You can't see her sheet but it had skid marks all over it. Precious. And you people think <b>I'm</b> crazy?<br />
<br />Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-30417805847988163802012-05-14T12:12:00.000-05:002012-05-14T12:12:17.560-05:00Happy Birthday Rebekah!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today is my youngest child's 22nd birthday (I'm old as dirt). Moma sang Happy Birthday to her. She has no clue who she is. Sad.....Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-81938648832955702652012-05-06T16:49:00.001-05:002012-05-06T16:49:31.658-05:00Sunday afternoon...As I write this, she is sitting on my living room sofa, feet tucked under her, propped back on my sofa pillows, looking out my picture window two knuckles deep in her nose. I do not really like her today (no hate today, just dislike). I decided today to confront her on all the things she does that really annoys me, thinking I might get a little joy from it, but no. This life I live has just about sucked all the joy I could ever have from me. But I know that we should not be storing up treasures here on Earth, and after I get a good tongue lashing from the Father about my attitude, I will receive my reward. But it isn't about me or rewards. There was no other choice to make. This, as much as I hate it, is the only way I could live with myself. I begged for a mission trip, and this, my friend, is it.<br />
So, on to the things that she has done today that really annoys me to the max.<br />
<ol>
<li><b>She pulls at my plants/flowers thinking she is "dead heading" them.</b> They don't all need that, and she is virtually pulling the roots from the pots. She kills everything I bring home. And one of the gifts I received from God, and inherited from Grandma Payne is that I can grown anything (except when she is around).</li>
<li><b>She asks questions about everything I do.</b> "Whose dresses are those on the porch?" She knows they are her housecoats that I have to hang on the deck to "air" because even washing doesn't take out the urine smell. And another favorite, "Where are you a going?" just because I opened the front door.</li>
<li><b>She feeds my dogs. </b>No discussion. We have beaten this dead horse enough.</li>
<li><b>Sitting at the kitchen table dying.</b> Today, every time she started it, I got up and hustled her back to her room. Not gonna watch it or listen to it. She is not dying (nor will she ever). </li>
<li><b>"Gimme a bite of that cookie".</b> Okay, it is not a cookie, it is a pop-tart, and it is my breakfast. Can I please have the whole thing? If I were literally eating horse manure, she would want it.</li>
<li><b>Choosing not to wear a diaper or to wear 3 gowns plus pajama bottoms with 3 housecoats. </b>Okay, I realize that she cannot help some of this, but please! I am doing laundry like a ninja 5 days a week, and as soon as I get a stack of gowns that I think will do her several days, she puts them ALL on at one time. Then she wets herself (soaking ALL the gowns) and I check her...no diaper! AUGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am so sick of bodily functions!!! and their nasty smells!</li>
<li><b>Rambling, nosing, piddling is one of her favorite pastimes that make me want to harm her.</b> Look, stay out of my things! PERIOD. (and I forgot to mention that she steals stuff too).</li>
<li><b>Being greedy is another trait we struggle with daily.</b> After a meal, she will say, "Can I have a banana?" or whatever is in sight. She wants to take it to her room because she is a hoarder (always has been....must be where I get it).</li>
<li><b>The grunting is not easily overlooked in every situation.</b> She will stand over me sometimes looking at the paper or whatever I am looking at, and she grunts every time she breathes. I want to strangle her. Besides, I want you out of my personal space, please.</li>
<li>(I feel like Letterman with my list, but mine is backward from his) <b>I am so sick of NEVER having the freedom to just pick up and go or do what I want!</b> I have to make arrangements for going to Dollar General. Today, the main reason I am so ill is because my upcoming beach trip may be null and void because of my freedom issue. My sitter's sister died so she is on her way to West Virginia. My sub-sitter can only work 3 1/2 days, leaving Friday and Saturday with no sitter and me out of town. My niece said she could do Saturday, so now Friday is up in the air. AUGH!!!!! My sister is out of town as well (not good planning on my part, but she didn't tell me either). So, I am in limbo until my niece checks to see if she can do Friday. If you know me, you know that I HATE LIMBO! I do not do limbo well at all. I am a school teacher for gosh sakes, and we follow plans. If I make it out of this situation before Mildred does, AS GOD AS MY WITNESS, I will not be responsible for anyone ever again, except Julie and her dogs! A-men and A-men.</li>
</ol>Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-89767592333442382322012-05-06T11:40:00.001-05:002012-05-06T11:58:22.537-05:00Garbage Police<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Moma likes to tend to things that are nothing to her. She wants to be in charge so bad she can taste it. She didn't worry about the garbage when she lived alone. I took her can to the street and then moved it back around when it was emptied. She never really had any responsibilities! Ahhh, the life of a princess!Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-2769366618958564492012-05-05T22:57:00.000-05:002012-05-05T22:57:40.725-05:00Her song<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just make up the words Mildred....if you don't know the song, make that up too....then add a tag from a familiar song that we all know. <b>Good Grief....</b>Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-36630636563894111172012-05-05T21:43:00.000-05:002012-05-05T21:43:02.811-05:00JULIE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh Yeah! It is possible to be sick to death of hearing your own name!Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-64646238153359302342012-04-28T11:47:00.001-05:002012-04-28T11:47:17.162-05:00Your Grace?Today, I am simply an humble hand-maiden to her royalty, the Little Princess. She has bossed me since waking me by SCREAMING my name this morning (with Kerry telling her to go back to bed and leave me alone). She bossed me through breakfast. "Hon, put this in the garbage" (she means right then, no later) "Can I have something else to drink?" "Hey, get me a spoon". (All the while I am thinking, CAN I EAT IN PEACE? No, apparently not)<br />
News Flash: While writing this post (and procrastinating some major school work), I heard her in the kitchen. I walked in just in time to see her loading her pockets with rubber gloves. When I took them and asked her to stay out of my things, she said, " Y'all think I'm a thief". THAT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE! I know that in her state of mind, there are no laws of reason, but this little princess is slowly killing me. Lord, have mercy!Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-36713290251402397062012-04-26T09:59:00.002-05:002012-04-26T09:59:57.427-05:00Patio TalkLast night we took Moma out on the patio to sit with us awhile. She asked a million questions about everything, but this little conversation was just precious to me:<br />
<br />
Moma: Whose bike is that parked in the co-ner?<br />
Kerry: It's YOURS!<br />
Moma: Mine? How do you know it is?<br />
Kerry: Because I do. It is yours.<br />
Moma: It ain't mine. Mine is a girl's bike.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-56285631097957496232012-04-22T11:26:00.001-05:002012-04-22T11:26:18.870-05:00Sunday, April 22The events of last week made me a better person. I was slower to anger, kinder in actions and nicer to her all around. Today, she is testing me. Today, I am back to being her indentured servant. Here is how breakfast went.<br />
<br />
7:00 am She wandered into the kitchen, Kerry and I were still asleep. She left in disgust.<br />
8:30 am Kerry had left the house. She stormed into the kitchen slamming her walker into the table. She then banged on my bedroom door and screamed, "WHEN YOU GONE GET UP AND FIX MY BREAKFAST?" I got up. I went to the bathroom. When I came out, she screamed again, "HEY!!! DID YOU HEAR ME? I WANT SOMETHING TO EAT!"<br />
As I was walking around in the fog that you call morning, she began her questioning routine. "What day is this?" "You fixin' me something to eat?" "Where is Kerry?" "Has it been a-rainin'?" I was doing the very best I could to function and ignore her as well. Thankfully, my sweet husband had already made the princess' coffee. I poured her a cup thinking this would slow her yelling at me. When I sat it in front of her, she said, "I want something to eat too!" (really? really?) I silently turned back to her oatmeal prep. After I got it fixed, I sat it and her morning pills in front of her. She began her eating routine which includes growling like a puppy eating kibble. I got myself a granola bar and a Diet Dr. Pepper and sat in my usual seat at the table (which unfortunately is next to her). "Where'd you get that?" I pointed to the pantry. "What is it?" I showed her the now empty box. "I WANT ONE! GIMME ONE!" I turned the box upside down to show her it was empty. "Shit!" she said. I picked up the Big Lots sale paper. Within minutes, she removed it from my hands and examined it. "Where is Lots?" she asked, "Alabama City" my reply. Never returned the sale paper, she went about eating her oatmeal. When I heard the spoon hit the bottom of the bowl, I thought my service was over. She shoved the bowl at me and growled, "That wasn't enough". I said, "Lunch will be soon". She screamed, "I WANT SOME MORE OATMEAL!!!!" I fixed it. "Hey, I need some more coffee" I poured it. "Well this ain't hot! I want it hot!" (Yeah, I had the same thought you just did, but I didn't) I nuked the coffee in the microwave (that little oven as she calls it). She drank a sip or two, then barked, "HEY! You didn't fix me no water!" (Because this is the 60's and we serve water with every meal?) I fixed her water and shoved her pill cup at her. "Take these", I said. "I done took them onest today". I shook my head no at her. She said, "Okay, I'll take 'em again". After a few more demands on me, she finally went back to bed. I hope she wakes up in another personality. I liked nicer me. I thought that was going really well.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-51618026720861983922012-04-17T16:48:00.001-05:002012-04-17T17:00:37.819-05:00Last night...I really do not want to report on last night. It was ugly. I acted awful. And if you have a queasy stomach....please click the X now.<br />
My grandmother, for some reason, is very susceptible to having impacted bowels. I am not sure if that is the correct term but you get my gist. She has lost so much muscle control that she cannot hold off her urine, and apparently cannot push out the other. They seem opposite of each other but whatever......<br />
Anyway, she complained most of the day yesterday of her "tail a-hurtin'" , but I didn't catch the other symptoms of the impaction. About 5:30, she got up from her nap screaming (I mean SCREAMING) for someone to help her and carrying on like someone was dead. Kerry and I ignored it as much as possible but finally (in the middle of my supper) I had to go check on her. She was standing in the middle of my living room holding herself screaming "I'm a shittin' on myself!" I got her back into her room and stripped her, put her on the toilet, and began handing her baby wipes to clean up. She would not stop screaming. I was getting angrier by the minute. I don't have much patience any way but especially with those prima donnas who cannot take one ounce of pain. I tend to be a "suffer in silence" type, unlike the majority of females in my family. I digress....<br />
She was 2 knuckles deep in her rectum digging out the "offender". She had poop on her hand up to her wrist, and she was digging like a maniac. She would hurt herself and scream. She was smearing it off her hands onto the sides of her bedside commode. (I was in a chair across the room gagging). I tried to stop her and do it with a rubber glove and Vaseline but she was in no shape to be reckoned with. Finally, I got her cleaned her up, put her a clean diaper and gown on. I went to empty her trash and came back to her back on the toilet, her gown dragging through the mess, and her hands full of "you know". I went nuts! I was screaming at her, trying to rip the gown over her head, and frankly, acting just plain AWFUL! There was poop in the floor, on her gown and the potty. I got on the floor to clean up the mess and she started vomiting (not in the garbage can that was at her foot, no.....all in the floor). Now, let me stop and say this......this is the lowest of lows. This is worse (to me) than the prodigal son eating the pig slop. I grabbed the garbage can and shoved it in her lap and screamed "Do not throw up in the floor again!" Then, I went back to the floor to clean up vomit. I looked up at her. She looked back with those bluest of blue eyes, as lost as a goose, and said so humbly, "I can't help it". At that moment God broke me. I began to weep. How dare I. She is my grandmother! I am treating her worse than I would someone that don't even know. I cleaned up the mess, cleaned her up, and redressed her. I got her back into bed, and went to take the dirty clothes to the laundry room. As I started down the stairs, Satan (the "buddy" who goes every where with me) said this...."She served God all her life. Now look at her.! She honored her mother and even her drunkard father, what did that get her? She isn't being rewarded, she is being cursed!" Anger spread over my being like fire. I was furious! I was furious with God! Why would anyone want to serve Him to end up like Moma? Why honor your parents? Old age is a curse, not a blessing! I ranted and raved about 15 minutes, and God broke me again. I sobbed bitter tears....I walked around the outside of the house several times. It seemed as if I couldn't breathe good. I was spent. I wanted to hear a compassionate voice. I called my friend Cheryl, who talked me through it all. After I assured her that it was not about me, at all. I was brokenhearted for the grandmother that was the best friend to a silly little chubby girl, the grandmother who listened to all my heartsick stories, and always ALWAYS made me laugh. Cheryl reminded me that God will give me just enough for today, each day. But...I have to trust Him to do that. He wants me depending on Him. She assured me that I am being obedient. She comforted me. Later, I emailed my pastor requesting he pray for me. He sent me the sweetest email back telling me that God was big enough for me to get mad at Him. He reminded me that He is my Father. I am so thankful for Godly people in my life.<br />
With every fiber of my being, I can say it is NOT about me. She may make me want to kill her tomorrow (and I am sure of it!), but this journey is not about me. It is all about HER and it is for HIS glory.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-21240613177116482162012-04-15T11:31:00.001-05:002012-04-15T11:31:02.459-05:00Hate is an ugly word.....I know I say it so much it doesn't even mean anything any more, but I hate her! (It's kind of become an endearing term......ha!)<br />
For some reason, I thought taking her to the BBQ festival at the falls would be a great idea. She had so much fun last year, and didn't want to leave. I was happy that Rebekah went with us. Without her, I might have dumped Momaw out in that wheelchair. I am not the best driver.<br />
After we dressed her up, we headed out. She asked no less than 6 times from the driveway to the parking lot, "Where are we a-going?" We rolled up to the gate, and there was a black female security guard. Bek and I trembled for fear of what she might say. She seemed to be more interested in the fact that she was a female "po-lice" than a black female. (That was God's grace) We walked around a bit to see what all was there (or what was NOT there.....dang Wills Creek Ice Cream NOT), then we went to the VIP pavilion for our "free" food. Moma complained about every morsel. All the employees made over her and carried on, so she put on a show. She got loud a couple of times. Somehow we made it out of there with no major incident. We had reservations to eat at the South Pork tent (owned by 2 of my vendors), so we strolled around and then headed there. We pushed her wheelchair up to the table and Bek and I got in line to fix plates. Moma turned to the lady at the end of the table and said, "Where in the hell do you get something to eat?" I got her food to her and went and got her a Coke (because she wouldn't have it any other way) She couldn't eat half the food and could not drink the Coke. She attempted to give her food to everyone at the table. I ignored her as much as possible as there were many people there that I haven't seen in forever. When we finished eating, Rebekah and I decided to leave because it was getting cool and we knew she would be freezing. I wrapped a throw around her legs and one around her shoulders. She started screaming (seriously) "Well, I'm about to freeze!" "Hey! I'm cold" and on and on.....She never shut her mouth from there to the car. My purse being the black hole that it is had swallowed my keys. I dug and dug, looking frantically for them before she had a come-apart. She began complaining, then she turned to me and screeched "Well HURRY UP, I'm a freezing!!!" Without missing a beat, Rebekah popped her arm like a child and said, "Shut-up!" I nearly peed my pants. Moma said, "If you ever hit me again, I'll get up and slap the shit outta you". And of course Rebekah yelled back, "DO IT!!!" Sigh....I was so tired. My arms were aching from pushing the old woman and my mind and ears were so sick of processing the complete and total nonsense that she had regurgitated all day. I was ready to get home!<br />
The next morning, Penny came at 7:30 so I could participate in the "Smoke Your Buns" 5K. I quit after 2 miles. My sister-in-law, niece and I were dead last and I saw no reason for the employees to stand their ground for the 3 of us. They would see us coming and start taking up their barricades and cones. Quite embarrassing! and I am soooooo out of shape (shame on me) and to be completely honest, I am so competitive that if I cannot at least place, I am not playing. (Yes, I fight this competitive spirit DAILY) So, now I am known as "the quitter". This too shall pass....I laugh and say I only came for the tee shirt. (not) So, when I got home, Penny was painting her toenails while Moma critiqued her. (Penny was going to be in our church fashion show yesterday.) She had been to an estate sale and brought Moma some house shoes, gowns and summer robes. Moma was thrilled with them. She put on an award winning performance. But the real joy of my day was later.<br />
I decided since I am such a loser (the race, my weight, my life) that I needed to get some stuff done. I was going to tackle the deck and patio and get it ready for my Wal-Mart (trailer park) pool! Please note that I hide this pool on my patio so that only the VERY close by can see it (close by meaning standing on my patio). I began as soon as she departed the kitchen for her room. It was terribly nasty from animal hair, pollen, dirt, insects, etc so my job was laid our for me. I was going great guns when I heard that walker.....ugh. So I went in and took care of what she needed, sent her on her way, and went back to work. It was no time when I heard her again. Again, I met her need and she went back to her room. When I heard her up the 3rd time, I just went inside and brought her out on the deck with me (because she has this built in radar and she was not going to stop). She piled up in the swing (or swang as she calls it) and bossed a bit. "Hey, you missed a spot....look behind you!" "Hey, why don't you......" I tried to ignore her before I killed her. The thing that bothers me the most though is when she starts moving things around while I am working. For example, I placed some random things on a bench while I prepared the place they were to go. She started putting them up under the bench, in the windows, on my plant stand, etc. You can never just finish a job without her butting in. I HATE THAT MORE THAN ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ( Leave me alone and stay out of my business!) She is such a busy body! I pictured tossing her over the end of the deck several times. It gave me enough peace to finish what I was doing without even addressing her sins. But the funniest (I laugh now) thing she did was to pile up in my swing, propped up on pillows (head and feet) and call me from the patio. I got up there and she said in that growly voice "You got anything good to drink?" So I went in and fixed the princess a glass of tea (which she spilled, because you cannot lie in a swing and drink tea). I fixed that princess "something good to drink" at least 6 times before I just flat out ignored her. If you could have seen her......hair awry, pink fluffy robe, God awful red house shoes with white socks, and smelling like the sewer, weighing in at 85 pounds, talking to me like she was Miss Daisy......I hate her.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-90244957061796157292012-04-08T09:01:00.000-05:002012-04-08T09:01:13.657-05:00Trip to DQSometimes, only a trip to DQ will cure what ails you.<br />
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<br />Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-35592926353612414072012-04-07T22:56:00.001-05:002012-04-07T22:56:25.787-05:00Not me this timeTonight we had a rack of ribs, chicken fingers, baked beans and chips for supper. Moma was not supposed to get ribs according to Mr. Payne. But, of course, when she saw them on my plate, she just had to have some. I tore her off a small part (while Mr. Payne is screaming "NO") and put it on her plate, but that would not do for the little princess. She wanted the whole rib. I began to tear if off for her because I'd rather just let her have her way about some things than argue with her. Mr. Payne went into some kind of RAGE and lost his mind over the whole thing. He screamed at me....over her greediness! (Has he met her?) He then snatched up his plate and went to the den with his food. She said, "Boy, he shore got his bowels in an uproar, didn't he?" She then began to complain about how tough the meat was and that she could not eat it. Ugh......There is no charge for the entertainment in this zoo. Come on by.<br />
(See, I'm not the only one she makes crazy)Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-67510246131263116252012-04-04T22:00:00.002-05:002012-04-04T22:00:31.352-05:00I know you will think I am lying on this little old woman, but I SWEAR it is the truth.<br />
<br />
Tonight, while cooking supper, I gave Moma a can of Ensure to hold her over while I cooked. She still says she is hungry, even though she does not really eat. I heard her telling the dogs, "You can't have this" and "I don't have anything to give you". Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her! I heard it! I walked around the table and knew it was true. She sucked up a mouthful in her straw and spit it in the floor for the dogs to lick up. YES SHE DID!!!!! She lied and swore she spilled it. NO, I saw it, I heard it, and it was splattered everywhere, not spilled. Grrrrr.......I hate her.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5415964952381477341.post-29439629837681385262012-04-03T19:35:00.001-05:002012-04-03T19:35:08.128-05:00Refusing to EatMoma is in one of those stages where she won't eat. She doesn't physically refuse the food but she moves it around on her plate, takes bites and many times spits it out in her hand and throws it back on the plate. I am sure that there is no great taste for her anymore. She doesn't even really care anything about her chocolate milk. She will still eat oatmeal and drink coffee. I have instructed the sitter that she is not to be encouraged to eat, drink, take medicines, or do anything else she doesn't want to. She can no longer control her bowels or urination. She is losing some of her vision. I think her body is trying to lead her in a certain direction. I am almost positive that she has another UTI, but the nurses keep saying that she is just dehydrated. She drinks tea, water, milk and coffee every day. If you pray, please pray a) for God's will and b) that he will have mercy on her. It is not mine to ask why, but I cannot understand her still being here in this tiny little shell, with no clue half the time where she is. The truly sad, and somewhat funny, thing is that if she were an animal we would have already euthanized her. She was my best friend for most of my life. I hate seeing her like this.Julie Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12231114003477159277noreply@blogger.com0