Matching Socks

I remember when my girls were little and wanted to help with laundry (yes, it was a very loooonnng time ago).  Part of me was happy they wanted to help, but the other part sighed heavily under my breath.  Their "help" meant that it would take 2-3 times as long.

That memory flashed in my head this morning as I brought a basket of Granny's laundry into her room.  She was eager to help--which doesn't happen often.  Her doctor and home health nurses have all said she needs to have chores to help make her feel useful.  Now, the first time I tried to get her to help me fold a basket of towels, the conversation went like this:

Me: "Granny, can you help me fold these towels?"

Granny: "Why?"

Me: "Well, first of all, because we need to get them put away before they get wrinkly.  Secondly, your doctor said folding laundry would be good for you."

Granny: "You can tell that doctor he can come over here and fold it himself!"

SMH! 

Sometimes I just leave a basket of towels sitting on the coffee table in the living room and after a few days, she gets tired of seeing it and starts folding it.  But she's never really happy to do it, so I was a little surprised she seemed excited when she saw the basket today.

She started folding a pajama shirt methodically and neatly, but she tried to put it away without the bottoms.  Then she couldn't remember which drawer it went in.  Next, she grabbed some mismatched socks and tried to put them away, opening and closing drawers, looking for the one she had just tried to put her jammies in. 

When my girls were little, I always worried about breaking their spirit when I corrected them.  I'm sure they would tell you I was--and still am--too critical.  With Granny, I felt like I was walking that same tight wire except I wasn't worried about breaking her spirit, I just didn't want to embarrass her.  

So, I dug into the basket and pulled out all the socks and put them on the bed while she was throwing a dryer sheet away in the bathroom.  She came back and immediately started matching socks.  I tried to slow down on her hanging clothes and pajamas so that we would finish about the same time.  

Watching her search for the mate to the sock in her hand once again reminded me of my girls doing the same thing.  She felt proud she had accomplished something today--she just didn't jump up and down saying, "I did it!  I did it!" like the girls did.

Many times in caring for Granny, I feel I am parenting a toddler again.  I would never say this aloud to her but there is such a balancing act that happens on a daily basis!  It's hard to not "parent" a determined103 year old, who needs it but doesn't think she does--even harder than a strong-willed 3 year old.  

The toddler/preschool years were not my favorites, so I find it ironic that I'm re-living them.  Some days I feel like it's a second chance for me to get it right this time and not be impatient and harsh.  Other days, I question why God would call me to this when I am so totally ill-equipped for the job.  

But, just like I am thankful for the sweet moments of parenting my girls, I'm thankful for the sweet moments in caring for Granny.  I'm learning to live in the moment--because you never know what the next will be.  I'm learning to pick my battles and let things go more often than holding tight to them.  

I don't always get it right, but I will keep trying--just like Granny methodically matching her socks and putting them in the right drawers.