Even as you approach (hit?) middle age, your mother can play a very important part of your life–though sometimes it’s not an altogether welcome part.
Today my mom mentioned that I generally dressed well for a new job. She said that she noticed this when I was going to work last week. She told me she thought that my appearance was always professional. I thought that this was kind of her and am still working on accepting compliments.
Now, whether the early signs of dementia have begun to break down her social inhibitions or this is simply one of the martyrific Catholic-Jewish mother characteristics she’s always displayed, I don’t know. Choose the option which entertains you the most. Because, at that point, she chose not to stop at simply giving the compliment. Instead, she continued in a vein which made me (at least) vaguely uncomfortable.
“I thought,” my beloved mother, who gave birth to, but chose not to breastfeed me, “that if I were younger, I’d certainly go after you myself.”
If you didn’t just say, “Ewww,” to yourself, I want to know why. If you did and can offer any empathy, I’ll take it.
She also stated that I had a “swagger” to my walk, much like the character, Ridge, on The Bold and The Beautiful. This may have been a conciliatory note or another indication of the degradation of her mental abilities. She’s making an appointment with her doctor tomorrow. I’ll try to leave a message regarding Aricept.
God bless her, mom’s a hoot!