By Mona AlvaradoFrazier/ Guest contributor“Mom, you’ve had half of that huge piece, save the rest for tomorrow,” my sister said her hand reaching for mom’s wrist.
“No, I haven’t gone to the halfway point yet,” mom said and pulled her arm away.
“Yes, you’ve had more than enough, it’s bad for your diabetes, it’s too much sugar,” sister said and grabbed for the cake.
“You better stop it before you get me mad and I sock you,” mom said, with a threatening look, while she balanced that dish of cake in her other hand.
My sister pleaded for mom to remember that her blood sugar is too high and she’s had too many sweets and carbs already.
“You’re going to end up in the hospital again,” she warned.
“I’m old; let me eat what I want,” mom replies and defiantly lifts a forkful of the three layer fudge filled cake.
For a woman over 79, legally blind, and hard of hearing, (that’s a whole other story), my mom still has a fierce grip. My sister, who is in great shape couldn’t take that cake away unless she wrestled my mom, so there they were, locked in the battle for that stupid piece of cake for a full minute. The other sister and I looked at them from the balcony and busted up laughing while we took pictures on our phones, because no one but the grandkids would believe the battle for the triple layer chocolate cake.
Most people our age are part of the “sandwich generation,” those who have children to care for and who also manage aspects of our elder parent(s) life. Make ours a mile-high Dagwood type sandwich. Luckily, between the two siblings who live close by and another sister who although lives far away is regularly in touch with my mother, the ‘sandwich’ is considerably smaller.
In some ways, we are “parenting” our parent while trying to respect her independence as much as possible and respecting her status as our mother. She, like many elderly parents, needs help managing her money, medications, doctor appointments, house cleaning, and a host of other things.
My siblings and I have learned to walk a fine line when we’ve tried to have “the talk” with our mother over the past few years. You see, our mother has always been “buen mucha,” (and I say that in the best sense of the word), strong and independent, a woman who prides self-sufficiency. So it is no easy thing to talk to her about the many things she has encountered with aging over the last few years, like constantly losing items, hitting the shrubs one too many times with the car, forgetting to take meds, or eating things she knows will cause her harm.
Sometimes we come on too strong and forget the tone in our voices when we talk about these topics. Other times no matter how we say, “I think you could use some help around here or the foods you eat aren’t good for your diabetes,” a stony face and her words meet us “I’m not a baby, no te preocupes, or her famous line: I’ve lived this long, let me eat what I want.”
And therein lays the dilemma. We’re right, my mom’s right and we’re wrong and she’s wrong too. I just wish she’d understand that we say what we say because we love her and want her to be with us as long as humanly possible. But for now, the triple layer chocolate cake trumps anything we say and in fact, she is sitting at this table finishing off the rest of that cake from yesterday.
— Mona AlvaradoFrazier is the writer of two manuscripts: working titles “A Mariposa Heart” and “Strong Women Grow Here.” To see more of her work, visit www.latinapen.blogspot.com
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