Rambling On

Hello, there! Here’s one of those posts where I share some random thoughts and ideas that do not warrant posts of their own.

The process of moving my mother-in-law into our home continues. My husband is headed to her place for ten days, completing final preparations before it goes on the market. Yes, that’s right. When he leaves her place this time, she will put it up for sale. The realtor they met with a month ago said the most recent listing she’d had sold after one day. When it sells, here she comes. Instead of moving into the bedroom across the hall from me, she’ll have the daylight basement for some space of her own. Her cat can hang out there and so can its litter box. I try to stay present, not chasing imagined problems down rabbit holes.

Physical therapy involves a therapist massaging my scar, tissues surrounding, and all of my ankle and foot. It feels great but I’m pretty sure I got bumped down from the exercise level begun on my first visit to the massage level, maybe something about me being near tears on the second appointment, suffering vertigo every time I lie down on the PT table, and nausea the last two sessions. One day, as I left the PT office, the lurching I do in the hall at home became a serpentine stroll down the sidewalk. Progress with therapy is slow.

We finally got central air conditioning the end of last summer after 20 years in this house, so as we near official summer, my area is cloudy and wet. It’s my fault.

My eyebrows are disappearing. What’s next? Aging. Ugh.

Because my mother-in-law is moving in straight to the basement, it will be our 24-year-old son who moves up across the hall from me. Downstairs, he’s had a pretty sweet setup, using one bedroom for an office, with his bed and clothing across the hall in another. He primarily comes and goes using the code on the garage, avoiding upstairs parent people completely so they don’t ask him to do anything. Perhaps, he will be more motivated to move after getting dislodged from his rent-free, two-bedroom space. He doesn’t want to live here in a crowded house. That works.

My current affirmation or mantra is, “There is no threat. No need for fight, flight, or freeze.” I’m using this to address concerns about living with my German MIL. She is not a threat. No need for fight, flight, or freeze. Having her in my home, and possibly making suggestion or helpful hints about homemaking, is not a threat. It is something, but not a danger to my survival. There will be no escape from her audio output. I’m writing with code words, as though it obscures my intent. My MIL doesn’t know about or read my blog, and I want to keep it that way. In the case she ever peruses my posts, I couch statements that may imply a negative connotation. I know I’m not fooling anyone. Red alert post will be published if she does read my blog. This saga will be reported further in future ramblings. Breathe.

Here I provide a factual example of interacting with my MIL In 2019, I’d purchased a women’s t-shirt with a V neck of an ALS t-shirt that had the names of both my sister-in-law and my husband’s father, my MIL’s ex, who had both been lost to that awful disease. This was arranged by family on FIL’s side, so it wasn’t mentioned to MIL. She wants nothing to do with them, although it’s been about 50 years since the divorce. Gathering before the funeral of my SIL, my niece gave me the t-shirts I’d ordered for my sons, husband, and myself. I tried on mine. My niece said she had a few extra shirts if MIL wanted one. Well, of course, she wanted one. Those extras were size mediums and they were not cut for a woman’s shape, no V neck. MIL said she sure wished she could have one like mine. Although I knew she would never wear this black t-shirt in the California desert and I’d actually wear it frequently up north, I went into the bedroom where we were staying, take off the shirt, and put on something else. Back into the living room, I told MIL she could have mine and I would take hers. I knew I would never wear the medium because it was snug. She feigned surprise, as though she had no idea I would respond to her complaints about what she was given. I teased her, “You can tell your friends your daughter-in-law is the kind of person who would give you the shirt off her back!” Her reply, “Well, I would if I thought it was true,” straight facial expression though, if reminded, she’d say she never said such a thing or she was obviously teasing. I’ll keep you posted about how the new living arrangements play out. Keep me in your thoughts. I will ramble on…