Grandma’s Neighborhood Watch

This is Morgan’s Story

Caring for someone with dementia means you never really know what the week, or even the next five minutes, is going to bring.

There are hard days. Confusing days. Exhausting days. Days when you answer the same question seventeen times and begin to wonder if maybe you’re the one losing it.

And then there are days when Grandma wakes up in a crack house. At least, according to Grandma.

This morning, she opened her eyes, looked around suspiciously, and asked my mom,

“Why did I wake up in a crack house?”

Naturally, Mom wanted a little more information.

“A crack house? Why do you think you’re in a crack house?”

Grandma pointed directly at me.

“Well, look how the crackheads are dressed.”

Excuse me.

Also how exactly does Grandma know what people in a crack house are wearing these days? Or even what a crack house is?

Apparently, dementia has taken a lot of things, but her knowledge of crack house fashion remains surprisingly intact.

In my defense, and apparently I needed one, I am the mother of FOUR little boys, the youngest of whom is two months old. I had been up during the night with both a newborn and an upset four-year-old, then got up early to make breakfast, pack a lunch, and get my six-year-old off to school before heading over to help my Mom with Grandma.

Was I looking my best?

Probably not.

Had I gotten dressed that morning with the thought, These sweatpants are clean enough and that’s really all I’m asking of them?

Possibly.

Did my hair looked like I had started getting ready and been interrupted approximately fourteen times.

Definitely.

But I was thinking tired mother of four.

Grandma was apparently thinking Breaking Bad: The Minivan Years.

And really, how do you defend yourself against that?

“Grandma, this is not a crack house. I just have a newborn.”

Judging by the way she looked at me, she had already examined the evidence and reached her verdict.

Guilty.

That’s the thing about caring for someone with dementia. There is so much about it that is difficult. You watch someone you love become confused by things that once felt familiar. Some moments are frustrating. Others are incredibly sad.

And tucked among all those difficult moments are stories we know we’ll be laughing about for years.

And sometimes you need those moments.

Because when you’re caring for someone you love, you learn to take the laughter wherever you can find it even when you happen to be the reason everyone is laughing.

So I have no idea what next week will bring.

But apparently I should start dressing better for it.

Grandma has standards. And sweatpants seem to be probable cause for her to make a phone call to the DEA.