Friday, June 29, 2007
The "something else" to which I refer in the immediately previous post...
...is this: I told MPS that I'd decided that, at the event of the 90th Birthday Dinner for Mom, I was going to insist that Mom sit between two people, neither of whom will be me. "I'll tell you why I'm insisting on this," I continued. "Here's what usually happens during family dinners at restaurants:" Mom and Gail get shunted to a sullen corner of the table. Everyone feels good about Mom being there, but no one interacts with Mom because interacting necessarily and often involves doing this or that discreet action like making sure Mom gets a fair chance to look over the menu; making sure that she knows where her food is when it's delivered; making sure she eats some of it in the midst of distraction; taking conversation a little more slowly, a little more loudly and a little more whimsically. Gail the Caregiver is there to notice and tend to all the little things, thus, in a sense, becomes a barrier between Mom and everyone else at the table...and Gail the Caregiver is so busy being The Caregiver with Mom that she doesn't get a chance to interact successfully with anyone else.
This time, I told MPS, everyone else is going to be forced to interact with Mom. It is, after all, her birthday. Everyone should be interacting with her.
MPS said, "Good."
Later in the evening I told Mom about this. I explained everything to her, including how we get shunted into a corner and everyone seems to forget that they're neglecting an excellent opportunity to visit with Mom and get a sense of her. "You know," I said, rounding off the explanation, "Actually, you and I should sit at opposite corners of the restaurant table AND, every time we go out to eat with family while they're here, we should do this. But, anyway, I want you to know, at the very least, it will be done for your birthday."
By the time I finished, to my surprise, my mother was grinning and tears were welling at the corners of her eyes. She exclaimed a heartfelt "Why, Gail, thank you!"
I was astonished. I, frankly, thought that while I was sensitive to this constant family-dinner-out scenario, she hadn't been. Not only had she, it was with great relief that she greeted the news that, earlier today, I had seen to it that this scenario would be stopped.
Funny what you find out when you just talk.
This time, I told MPS, everyone else is going to be forced to interact with Mom. It is, after all, her birthday. Everyone should be interacting with her.
MPS said, "Good."
Later in the evening I told Mom about this. I explained everything to her, including how we get shunted into a corner and everyone seems to forget that they're neglecting an excellent opportunity to visit with Mom and get a sense of her. "You know," I said, rounding off the explanation, "Actually, you and I should sit at opposite corners of the restaurant table AND, every time we go out to eat with family while they're here, we should do this. But, anyway, I want you to know, at the very least, it will be done for your birthday."
By the time I finished, to my surprise, my mother was grinning and tears were welling at the corners of her eyes. She exclaimed a heartfelt "Why, Gail, thank you!"
I was astonished. I, frankly, thought that while I was sensitive to this constant family-dinner-out scenario, she hadn't been. Not only had she, it was with great relief that she greeted the news that, earlier today, I had seen to it that this scenario would be stopped.
Funny what you find out when you just talk.
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Originally posted by Patty McNally Doherty: Sat Jun 30, 07:29:00 AM 2007
This is so wonderful. What a great way of prepping the evening festivities. You've been open and honest about your expectations of others, including your mom. You've laid the foundation for a memorable evening celebrating your mom's birthday. And you've even discovered the most precious gift you can give her - the place of honor.
It is common practice to make things as easy as possible for visitors of our elders. And without exception, the needs of the elders are seen as insignificant in comparison to a guest being served or seated or entertained.
But you've turned the tables. By removing yourself from guard position, by trusting others to make the most out of the opportunity they're given with a woman they love, you're allowing life to have its wonderful effect on all involved.
Who knows what the end result will be, and really, who cares? It's the process that matters. You can engage with others, keeping your mom in your peripheral vision but not as your focus. Her guests can focus on her, her grace and love will settle like a wonderful balm on all who sit beside her. They may not do everything right, but they won't do everything wrong either. Everyone will benefit from your keen sense of what's needed most - time together.
At our family get-togethers, we often change seats with each course - appetizer: be seated (but never beside a spouse), salad: switch seats, dinner: switch seats, dessert: switch seats, coffee: switch seats - forcing new faces to sit by, and across from, and converse with, new faces. And never, ever, are husbands and wives allowed to sit beside each other. My father actually started this tradition when he and my mom would have their friends over for dinner. We, as kids, grew up thinking that was the proper way to entertain. Little did I know how intensely boring dinner can be when you can't get within earshot of an interesting person. This solves that problem. It also releases you from being beside an intensely passionate talker who won't take a breather for a sip of soup.
The saying goes - divide and conquer but sometimes it's really divide and unite. I am so happy for your mom. What a great birthday she's going to have!
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This is so wonderful. What a great way of prepping the evening festivities. You've been open and honest about your expectations of others, including your mom. You've laid the foundation for a memorable evening celebrating your mom's birthday. And you've even discovered the most precious gift you can give her - the place of honor.
It is common practice to make things as easy as possible for visitors of our elders. And without exception, the needs of the elders are seen as insignificant in comparison to a guest being served or seated or entertained.
But you've turned the tables. By removing yourself from guard position, by trusting others to make the most out of the opportunity they're given with a woman they love, you're allowing life to have its wonderful effect on all involved.
Who knows what the end result will be, and really, who cares? It's the process that matters. You can engage with others, keeping your mom in your peripheral vision but not as your focus. Her guests can focus on her, her grace and love will settle like a wonderful balm on all who sit beside her. They may not do everything right, but they won't do everything wrong either. Everyone will benefit from your keen sense of what's needed most - time together.
At our family get-togethers, we often change seats with each course - appetizer: be seated (but never beside a spouse), salad: switch seats, dinner: switch seats, dessert: switch seats, coffee: switch seats - forcing new faces to sit by, and across from, and converse with, new faces. And never, ever, are husbands and wives allowed to sit beside each other. My father actually started this tradition when he and my mom would have their friends over for dinner. We, as kids, grew up thinking that was the proper way to entertain. Little did I know how intensely boring dinner can be when you can't get within earshot of an interesting person. This solves that problem. It also releases you from being beside an intensely passionate talker who won't take a breather for a sip of soup.
The saying goes - divide and conquer but sometimes it's really divide and unite. I am so happy for your mom. What a great birthday she's going to have!
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