| A Word Edgewise by Mary Joe Clendenin |
 |
| A Word Edgewise by Mary Joe Clendenin |
|
Last Updated 01/20/06
For more literature go
to Clendenin Books
Email: mjclen@our-town.com
Our Second Family was Unplanned
It was
almost like starting over again with the joys and responsibilities of children--except our
children were two girls 82 and 86 years of age. My mother, Mary Fitzgerald, and Ray’s
mother, Dollie Clendenin, had come to live with us in Lubbock. In fact, Mother had been
with us three years when Dollie came.
They had to share a bedroom because ours was a
two-bedroom house since I had taken one bedroom for an office. When we moved to Lubbock
there were just the two of us and the house was plenty big.
When it seemed necessary that Dollie come to us,
too, I thought, “It’s not fair. How can we ever manage with two mothers?”
But the Lord does provide. For the most part, the arrangement worked well. Mom didn’t
seem to mind sharing her bedroom with Dollie. They had been friends for a long time. So,
with some give and take and patience, the arrangement worked well.
Both ladies were in relatively good health,
though handicapped. Mother had to have a walker to get around and Dollie was almost blind.
Neither was able to live alone, although their independent natures made it difficult to
surrender to the inevitable. They were company to each other. Before Dollie came, Mother
feared being left alone at night, even long enough for us to go to church.
Since Ray and I both worked, we had a lady
who came daily to stay with the mothers. Their little dabs of Social Security paid for
that and a few other things. The lady sitter did a little to help prepare lunch. I came
home and did most of the preparation, but she cleaned up afterward. Dollie was able to
bathe herself, but mother required help.
Every Saturday morning I helped Mom shower
and Saturday afternoons they both had appointments to get their hair done. Sunday mornings
were reruns of the days when we got children ready for church: time to lay out clothing,
help with dressing, check hair and see that makeup was smooth. Occasionally I slipped up.
Dollie’s powder was sometimes untidy, or mother’s slip showing.
Once, mother went to church with a brown shoe and a
black shoe--and both were for the same foot. She enjoyed the laugh we had when we got
home. I had discovered the mistake during Sunday School, but did nothing about it. People
who noticed were too kind to tell. By then she had wisely decided to laugh about the
follies of old age, because she seemed content with her lot. Dollie, whose mind was still
very sharp, was more inclined to get moody.
We had no idea what to expect from our
family. We learned some things the hard way. We learned that we, Ray and I, needed time
alone, to talk and to rest from the strain that goes with trying to see that feelings and
rights were always respected. Every evening, or night, we rode our bicycles. Usually, it
was rather late, after we had supper and the ladies were settled. Dollie usually went to
bed early, but mother was never early to bed. Even if it was after 10 P.M. before we could
get away, we enjoyed the exercise and the time by ourselves as we rode. If it was cold, we
put coveralls on over warm clothes, gloves, scarves, etc. and rode away. Also, my sister
Nell would come when she could and give us a chance to get out of town for a day or two.
We learned to keep the TV out of the den and
in the living room where the ladies had their favorite chairs. That way, we could
entertain guests in the den without interfering with them, if they didn’t care to
visit. Both liked the soaps; I never did. In fact, I don’t like constant TV. They
did, except for a while in the afternoons when their regular programs were over and they
came to the dining table to play dominoes.
We learned about patience, keeping the peace,
little pleasures, endurance, love. Although we had never planned nor expected to keep both
mothers at the same time, we learned, “Where there’s a will, there’s a
way--” if all concerned are willing to try. God blessed us with the ability and
opportunity to provide for our families.
I remembered the many summers and other times
when mother had kept our children while I was in school. She had lived with us before.
When we moved to New Mexico in 1957, after dad died in ‘49, she went with us to keep
our three-year-old daughter, Melissa, until she was school age--and she must have ironed
an 18-wheeer full of clothes during those years.
Each individual family situation requires a
different approach, but all are on-the-job type learning experiences. That was true with
our first family and equally true with the second. Actually, neither was planned.