Caregiving Daughter

I remember when my daughter was a toddler.  She was VERY strong-willed, and would not give up on what she wanted very easily.  I remember how exhausted I felt when I used to battle her on every single thing.  Finally, I took the advice of others and learned to pick my battles. 

With Mom, I’ve learned that I also have to pick my battles.  If I held my ground and battled her on every single thing, we would both be unhappy and our home environment would be a lot more stressful.  One source of conflict we’ve had is when Mom takes it upon herself to change things around in the house.  This may not seem like a big deal to some, but it really gets under my skin.  I think it’s because I’ve become accustomed to having my own house and having everything where and how I want it.  This is especially true since we moved into our new, bigger house right before Mom moved in with us.  It was a lot of fun to arrange the furniture and decorate our new home to our liking.

While Mom’s tastes are very different from mine, some or her changes around the house are minor, and not too bad.  I’ve become accustomed to her gold, octagon shaped coasters she placed on our coffee table.  I’ve learned to live with the plastic knife and fork that she stuck in one of my potted plants to help support it.  When she added additional dishes (and a vinyl placemat) for the cat food in the laundry room, that was fine.  But when she started messing with my toaster, the battle was on. 

We bought the toaster new when we moved into our house.  It was stainless steel with black trim and it matched our kitchen décor.  In the several months she had been living with us, she never seemed to have a problem with the toaster.  After a year of enjoying the view of my shiny toaster on the countertop, I started finding dish towels placed over it.  At first, I just moved them and didn’t think too much about it.  But every day, one kept coming back.  Finally, I caught her in the act of covering up the toaster.  I asked her why she was covering it.  She said she was afraid that dust or cat hair would get in it.  I told her that I really didn’t think that was necessary (I’ve never found burned cat hair on my toast), and it was fine just sitting on the counter.  Then she told me if it wasn’t covered, she would just have to wipe it out every day before she used it.  Of course I didn’t want her to electrocute herself, so I very grudgingly agreed she could keep covering it. 

A few days later, Mom proudly told me she had a new “invention.”  I followed her into the kitchen, and I grimaced as I braced myself for whatever she had to show me.  She led me to the toaster and with a sweep of her hand like Vanna White, she gestured to her new cover.  My shiny new toaster was now covered with plastic that she had cut from a package.  It was one of those hard plastic packages that either a comforter or sheet set had come in.  (It was probably one of those things that Mom had been saving in her room in case she ever needed it).  She cut out the corner of the package so it would fit over the toaster.  It still had part of the price tag stuck to it.  I sighed a deep sigh, and I told her I did not like it.  She just stood there and looked at me with a baffled look on her face. She still gave no indication that she was going to relent and give up her claim on my toaster. 

It seemed as though we had come to an impasse over the toaster, and neither of us wanted to give in.  Finally, I came up with a compromise.  She could use her plastic cover until I was able to find a real toaster cover that went with the kitchen better.  After some searching, I finally found a black one from Bed Bath and Beyond (they had to order it.  It seems toaster covers are not a hot commodity these days).  So now, I only get to see my nice, shiny toaster when it’s in use.  But, at least when it’s covered, I can live with it.  Sometimes you have to lose the battle to win the war…

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