It has been one of those days. I woke this morning. I bought my mother a coffee maker because she has been asking for one. I saw her busy at the machine, so let her be. I like it when she does what she can. She was only making two cups of coffee, but she filled the filter with enough coffee for a big pot. She ran some more water through trying to get the coffee dilute. It was an awful mess. We talked about how much coffee to use. No problem, really. I know it was a challenge for her. I told her I didn't want any coffee and she asked me why in the world I had bought the pot if I wasn't going to drink coffee?
She didn't go back to bed -- understandable with that strong coffee! :-D She wanted to talk. It was the most confusing talk that was twisting my head about as I was trying to get things done. At lunchtime I planned on having some Italian pasta that was leftover from dinner. I searched the refrigerator, but it was nowhere in sight. I asked about it and she said she'd thrown it in the yard for the birds. She said she didn't want me to try to serve it again, and never to buy it again. I looked outside and there it was -- noodles and Italian sausage in tomato sauce sitting in bits in the front yard. I prayed some stray dog would find it and clean it up. But no problem, really. Things like this happen in the world of dementia.
Then she was looking outside and decided our neighbors had turned their water drain spouts to send water into our yard. She said she was going to talk with them and didn't care what they thought. Our neighbors are sweet people. I assured Mom that they hadn't done anything wrong. She didn't listen. She called someone and started crying about what these neighbors were doing to her yard. Sigh. I see an obsessive problem brewing. She wouldn't stop talking about it. I told her a good solution would be to move. No, she said. This was her house, and yada yada.
I had enough of the day and retreated to my room. Fortunately, I had an order that I had to fill that distracted me. It had rained steadily all day, so I hadn't been able to get out for a walk. It was kind of nice to head to the post office. I talked to the clerk there. The normal conversation was so refreshing. My mind can end up feeling so twisted that things can start to seem like all confusion after a while. How do we cope with such confusion?
Maybe there is a way to limit the amount of coffee available also, but that would mean more work for you. Sounds like your mother learned to make it anyway!
Every so often, there is coffee running down the side of the counter here. I have to clean it up and have no idea how he does it, but I love for him to make the excellent coffee that he does. It is such a treat for me!
Hope you get some relief from those frustrations somehow. You deserve a good day.
I can understand possible befuddlement at the new coffeemakers. Some of them make me long for the old days when things were simple.
My mother is very stuck on the water coming from the neighbor's yard now. She growled at me any time I saw her, so I made myself scarce. I am not a happy camper at the moment. I have a high-cost way to fix problems that should have already been done. I am going to go ahead with the plan. She is concerned about moss growing in the front yard and wants to eradicate it. Why, I don't know. She's had this fixation on moss for about 4 years now. I told her there was an easy solution -- chop down her trees. She didn't like that. She doesn't understand shade and moss go together. (Personally I love the pretty green moss carpet, so hate to see it hacked up and destroyed.)
Dad would either run hot water all over the counter, or being a retired electrical engineer, he would take the thing apart to see how it works :P
Perhaps your mom's main issue is something else. I've read your comments on this site. I suppose that change could still come through as she progresses.
Today is still crazy. I'm trying to stay out of her way. I am mentioning moving a lot. I hope that it gets her used to the idea.
Pam, the whine thread is no longer the whine thread.
How long has your mom being diagnosed with dementia?