Passing the Torch

Two: I want that! I want it now. WAAAAA!
Seven: I like that. I will take it, hide it. Mine! All mine!
Fifteen: I like that. I will trade you something for it. Too cool!
Thirty five: I don't think this is what I wanted. Does somebody want it? I will make you a deal.
Sixty one: We've been there, had that, I think....pretty sure. Might be in the garage.
Seventy nine: That is mine, give it back. I want it, I want it now! WAAAA!
Eighty three: I've never had that. Why would anyone want that?
Ninty: That's not mine. Take it away, ....What is it?

Well time changes things, perspective and definitely memory. Even more alarming is the change in "roles". It was absolute joy growing up in my family. Oh don't get me wrong, we were normal ...for Air Force brats moving coast to coast with a father gone often and a mom at home. We got along....and as the baby no one suffered as much....I mean had it better. My sister and brother have always watched out for me. They have been my cheer leaders, partners in crime and friends. We even laugh together....often! THAT is what siblings should do.

Then there is the whole parent child thing. I watched my siblings grow up only to leave me at home. Really! Completely abadoned for such silliness as marriage and families. Eventually I left to travel, go to school.... many times, marry and become a mom. The role was easy and our child the greatest gift. A special gift, my son. A clean, untainted view of the world and the ability to get me to de-escalate in the most challenging moments. Then suddenly I acquired two other children. One a bit passive and quiet, a streak of stubborness but a great smile and quick wit. The other chatty, silly and a bit cranky, fussy if you will with a glimmer of insecurity. On the upside she loves to give gifts. I never imagined having three special needs kids all at the same time. Yikes!

While I love this role it has been brutal. I have watched these kids change, dramatically. I have watched the younger one, 15,  grow making us proud in his efforts in school while the older ones, 82 and 84, regress through the doors of time, and memory. They have fought every bit of the way too. Loss of space, work, familiarity, privileges, ability, memory. Gone like a vapor, or so it must seem to them. They have transitioned through this life change at different speeds, but are heading to the same destination. A loss of self as they see it.

Once full of direction, conversation and ability they are finding it difficult to make the simpilest decisions. And so that is where I come in. I have gone from baby, youngest daughter to caregiver, nurse, and stranger. It is okay, I have gotten used to that. I don't mind being the tough girl. What is hardest to adjust to is the fussing. Temper tantrums in grown adults is really quite different than when I watched my son do it. First he was little and cute. Secondly he didn't tell me what he thinks. Grown ups do that. And they have a whole vocabulary of emotions and thoughts that I would rather not know.

So I have come to accept that I have gone from the child to the parent. I have transitioned from taking advise to giving orders. I am in charge, and have had to make the tough decisions. I don't have to spank anyone so that is great, but it feels like that at times. Learning to ignore the words and accept the feelings is the most challenging step to make this all work. They don't mean what they say, but that is because they can no longer express what they feel. Patience, small words, short activities, naps, quiet time. Sound familiar? It is what we do now to be happy. Much like those early years, we are working on taking baby steps to this change in life. I am taking notes.