Growing Old Graciously

Growing Old Graciously - Or Not

I pray I grow into a gracious old lady

In advance - I apologize for posting yet another story with more of the same crap about living with an elderly parent.

Here is the story... saga... my complaint... by bitch... my moan.

While I was getting dinner started, mom obviously heard me moving around in the kitchen. I know this because it wasn't long before she showed up to see what was going on (read: looking food laying around to eat), She asked if there was anything she could do to help. Good start...
I asked if she wanted to learn how to make pizza dough, "Would you like to help me?"

Her reply; "No"

I said, "There is no hand mixing or kneading, all we have to do is measure the
ingredients and put them into the KitchenAid, it does all the work."

Her reply: "Oh"

Can anyone tell me - Why did she ask?
Couldn't she have at least come into the kitchen and watch... look slightly
interested... measured a couple of teaspoons of salt?

Maybe her question should have been "do you need anything done that I like to
do..." or "anything I think might be fun..." how about "got any cookies you need sampled, any
chocolate cake you don't want lying around?"

I started the pizza dough while she wandered back to her easy-chair and read her book, "easy" must be very difficult because a short time later she napped while I tended the vegetable garden.

When I was coming from the garden I heard a fearful crash in the kitchen and called out, asking if she was OK... (we always are concerned fro her falling)

"Yeah" she says, "I guess I can't get into the cookie jar without being caught"

She was getting a damn cookie.... you all know she's a diabetic right?

... ugh!

Why do I let this get to me?

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