Just like old times.

My mom loved a good argument and goodness knows her and I had more than a few doozies and frequently.  I honestly can't think of one thing we ever agreed upon because it was hard to agree with mom.  Mom is a very black and white thinker and is not one to compromise her views or opinions.  Basically, if my mom said the sky was green, then she would argue that it was and no matter what evidence was presented to her to say otherwise and she would argue with you until you agreed that the sky was in fact green.  Sometimes other people would agree that the sky is green, simply to end the argument, but not me, never.  Needless to say, our arguments could and would go on and on and on.  Our motto was who could yell the loudest and the longest.  I pity those who over the years tried to intervene, it was futile.

One disagreement that comes to mind was the naming of my daughter.  Two ultrasounds had said that I was having a boy and so her father and I named 'him' accordingly.  We chose the name Dylan, to honour of one of her dad's favourite musicians and to honour one of my favourite poets.  When Dylan came into this world a girl, well her dad and I couldn't find another name that we liked and we toyed with Dylana and didn't like the sound of it, so we decided to keep the name we chose.  My mother did not agree and kept insisting that we find another name as she was not going to allow her granddaughter to be named after a drunkard and hippie and have what she felt was a boys name.

Later in the day the unit clerk arrived with paper work that I needed to complete to register the live birth.  I completed them with the name Dylan.  My mother ripped up the form.  The unit clerk returned and explained to my mother that the form is a legal, government document that is officially numbered and she would now have to complete more paperwork to explain the out of sequence numbers and she gave me another form to complete to register the live birth.  I completed it and again my mother ripped it up.  The unit clerk was angered now and told mom that if she did it again, she would be removed from the hospital by security and she gave me another form to complete to register the live birth.  I completed it and again my mom ripped it up.  You guess what happened but she was allowed to return 12 hours later when all the paperwork had been completed and filed.

There were other notable arguments and often I would have no choice but you refuse to speak with her, even changing my phone number once.  That drove mom nuts.  It wasn't the fact that she couldn't speak with me, it was the fact that she couldn't yell on the phone to me or leave an argumentative message on my machine.  So, for two months I would find envelopes on the windshield of my car.  The woman would drive from Canmore to Bragg Creek, to search for my car and would leave argumentative notes on the windshield of my car.  She was determined, I'll give her that much and eventually I gave in and gave her my phone number but only because I didn't want her driving the roads in the winter.

In the past month, so much of mom has returned.  She refers to the staff by name and has no qualms about demanding their help when she needs it, not asking, demanding.  I have advised them to not give her a bedside buzzer.  She is also demanding of my dad and myself.  "Peter, get me more chocolate milk and Lisa Marie, get me a blanket or _________", is the norm again and I love it.  And, what also has returned is her love of arguing and arguing with me.

Assisting mom to eat is now different also.  She is never hungry and often argues with me that she just ate as she doesn't realize that it's been 5 hours since her last meal.  Other times she will argue that it's too much food.  So, I take the exact same portion and put it onto a smaller plate and then she is fine.  Most times she forgets to swallow or puts too much food onto the fork, so now assisting mom is reminding her swallow what is already in her mouth.  I make mom feed herself and will not give in when she demands help.  My dad still does, so sometimes she will sit and sit and wait for dad to come and when he gets there, he feeds her.  I kid you not, when she does that, she looks over to me and grins, pleased that she got her way.

Last night at dinner was no different.  First she argued that she wasn't hungry and I reminded her that she hasn't eaten anything since noon and she needs to eat.  She took a little bite.  Then she argued that it's too much food, so I went to the kitchen and put the stew and biscuit into a bowl.  She took another bite.  Then she stopped eating and I told her that she needs to eat and she said she didn't want the stew.  So I asked if she wanted a sandwich and she demanded a tuna sandwich, and I'm sure she was thinking there wouldn't be one, but there was.  I put the sandwich on a SMALL plate and placed it in front of her.  She took a little bite and then stopped.  By now, I admit, I was slightly agitated and I asked her what was the problem.  She didn't answer, so I reminded her that she has to eat something.  Then this happened.

"What don't you understand," she yelled "are you deaf?"
"I'm not deaf mom," I answered.
She pushed the two plates of food away and yelled even louder "I'm not hungry!!!"
I yelled back "I don't care if you're not hungry you have to eat!!"
She yelled louder "I don't have to do anything I don't want to !!!!"
I yelled "MOTHER, if you don't eat, you'll get sick, I'm here everyday to help you eat, so eat, PLEASE!"
"NO," she yelled louder "JUST GO AWAY AND DON'T COME BACK"
"FINE," I yelled "STARVE THEN, I DON'T CARE!!!"  I turned my chair so that she would see nothing but my back and proceeded to help Evie finish her stew.  I then realized that the rest of the dining room was quiet and all eyes were fixed on us.  Typical of our arguments, we never cleared a room but everyone always stopped what they were doing and watched to see the outcome. It didn't matter if it was a shopping mall, a parking lot, a school function, the foyer at the Catholic church, an air plane, a maternity ward or a seniors home dining room.

Eventually dad arrived and asked what was going on.  Mom said "Talk to her".

Dad knew and he laughed as he sat down and gave mom a bite of the sandwich, which she ate.  Then dad said "Just like old times," and laughed some more.

Mom and I post argument at a wedding.

She didn't win the argument but she won a grand-daughter, named Dylan, who mom nicknamed Dillie Bear or Dill Pickle.