Tag Archives: Tom Laughon

You Get the Picture

Who needs a thousand words when it comes to mom?

There is no denying mom’s talking less and less, but when she says something, you listen and long for every word.

I had just dropped her off at Circle Center Adult Day Care. She was in her wheelchair, eyes closed, when I kissed her cheek and whispered, “Bye, mom, I love you … I’ll see you later, OK?”

Surprisingly she answered, “You’re not going to leave me here are you?”

“No mam. I will never, ever leave you. I have to go to work, but I’ll be back later to get you, OK?”

“OK.”

I gave her one last hug, and as I headed for the door, I heard her say loud and clear, “Good luck to you and your lover. (PAUSE) Ain’t that nice?!”

I looked back and her eyes were still closed, her head was slowly nodding up and down, and I swear she was smiling.

It looked to me like she was totally pleased with herself for, well, being so nice.

I don’t know where it came from, but I still can’t get this picture out of my mind, and I don’t even know what it looks like.

 

 

Month of May: A Reflection on the Last 5 Years

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“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven …”Ecclesiastes 3 

May … Five Years Ago

Melissa and I picked up stakes, our business and our lives, and moved from Tallahassee, Florida to Richmond, Virginia.

The sole purpose was to be caregivers.  My mom, Helen, and sister, Nel lived together and were both having dementia related challenges that were getting worse by the day. We had observed this for some time, but didn’t even know where or how to help.  As time went on, we saw more and more disturbing signs when visiting, and we learned even more through conversations with friends and relatives in Richmond.

The whole rationale for moving to Richmond seemed simple at a distance. My family had always been there for me. I had to be there for them. It was the only choice I could make. And, Melissa supported that choice all the way. The challenge was we hadn’t googled “primary caregivers” to even know what our new role really meant.

After arriving in Richmond with no plan in hand, exploration, discovery and being totally overwhelmed at every turn would be the be the best way to describe it. We had dealt with hurricanes, sinkholes, alligators, sharks and other dangerous things … but nothing prepared us for this.

And, this didn’t even include being homesick for Tallahassee, where Melissa and I started our leadership development firm, Catch Your Limit, had a home, friends and the Gulf of Mexico as our playground. Did I mention we loved to fish?!

The welcome wagon was not exactly here to greet us when we arrived in Richmond.  My Mom and sister were an extremely strong, independent, self reliant duo. We had talked with them at length about our decision to move to Richmond, but the reality of us coming hadn’t sunk in (or possibly even registered with the dementia challenges) until we walked through their front door after our 12 hour drive. Nel, greeted and hugged me, and immediately said, “Hi, Tom … great to see you, when are you leaving?”

Mom had even asked someone to call Henrico County Sheriff’s Office upon seeing the moving van arrive to let them know that we were not needed or welcomed here and to have us escorted from town if necessary.  Our move was threatening to them in so many ways.  But, Mom and Nel were running out of options.

The dangers surrounding Mom and Nel’s challenges with dementia were increasing.  But, we were limited in what we could do from afar.  Below are just a few examples:

  • Once on a visit, we talked with them about driving and took away their car keys and disconnected the battery only to have “friends” step in, override our family decision and enable them to get on the roads and endanger themselves and others once more (Nel could no longer find her car when parked in the 7-11 parking lot … the 7-11 she and mom visited multiple times daily to get Big Gulp refills). And, there were lots of dents all over their car that they could not explain. No telling how many they left on other people’s cars.
  • Mom and Nel collectively refused medical attention of any sort.
  • And, in the year before we moved, Mom’s attorney had contracted with 24/7 caregivers, which was most needed, but the estate was hemorrhaging so much money that we were already having discussions about when their assets would need to be liquidated.

Only once we moved were we able to dedicate the time necessary to navigate the available resources, build a team and understand how to ask for help. Fortunately, within a couple of months, we found a doctor who would make a house call and my sister’s behavior was diagnosed as early-onset Alzheimer’s.

May … Four Years Ago

My daughters and I were grieving for Nel, she had passed away March 28th, just  a little over one month shy of turning 65 on May 10th.

One year to the day after we moved to Richmond, I started this blog … my91yearoldmom.com. I decided to keep the domain name, and celebrate her new age and stage every Christmas Day. Yep, mom was a Christmas baby … and this coming Christmas, she will be 96.

This was my introduction to the blog …

“If you are, have or even anticipate caring for an elder parent, sign up for my blog and join me on my journey with my 91 year old mom. You’ll find laughs, tears, insights, and lessons learned (often the hard way) all along the way. One thing I promise you on this journey (that has no road maps), no two days are ever the same! So , join us … mom and I could both use some company.”

May … One Year Ago

I wrote a blog titled “Step Mom”. It was about having permanently grounded mom, but not for bad behavior, goodness no!

You will have to click on the title to read the rest of the story.

This Last Day of May 2015 … Today

Between that first May date (that seems like one part yesterday, and one part an eternity ago) and now, so many things have happened. So many lessons learned. So much still to learn.

I am grateful for my mom for continuing to be my inspiration and my teacher.

I am grateful for becoming a caregiver.

I am grateful for my entire family that supports me, even as I learn.

I am grateful to you for being a part of our journey.

I am grateful for learning so much more about life, love, caring, grief, hope, faith, sorrow, joy … to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven …

That choice Melissa and I made to move here in May, five years ago … it was the right choice … it has changed our destiny, who we are and who we will be, forever.

 

The Sequel: A Joyful Noise

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“Isn’t God the one who urges us to “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord”? Why do we always think that means singing? Seems to me the most obvious joyful sound on earth is laughter …” – Charles R. Swindoll

OK … Mom has a hit on her hands!

“You speak my language,” seems to be the resounding consensus from fans, followers and drop-bys alike after viewing mom’s first video, Our Secret Language.

The sequel, A Joyful Noise, was also a one-take, no-editing-needed video. And … for now … these are the two and only two videos I have of this incredible exchange between mom and me.

It may sound like babel (with a pinch of Frenglish) to some, but to me, it is mom’s and my secret language … one that somehow connects us both … in it the illusive meaning of life may be just a translation away.

No subtitles included or needed. After all, love and laughter are the universal language.

Heavenly Message From Our Earth Angel

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Our very own Earth Angel

Two nights ago my mobile device let me know, in no uncertain terms, that it had received a message on my behalf. My first reaction was to be mad at who messaged me, and my second was to be mad at myself because I hadn’t put my message signal on mute. Damn the world and damn me!

Melissa and I had rushed home after a visit next door with mom and her live-in caregiver, Carolyn, aka our earth angel. We were eating a quick fix dinner in front of the TV because “The Voice” was on. And, we really love that show. I repeat, we really love that show. In fact, we tell our clients, students and everyone in our friendship circle that they can call us anytime day or night … except the nights that “The Voice” is doing its thing. That is a nonnegotiable-no-no, plain and simple.

But, when I saw the message was from Carolyn, I immediately focused on it. Even though Carolyn and mom were right next door, I knew I had to read the message. You never know what it could be, so your whole body goes on high alert.

So, with “The Voice” in the background, here was the message tree as it unfolded:

Our Earth Angel: What a nice visit tonight! It’s amazing to see the impact you have on your mother. The human spirit … wild!

Have a good night.

Mortal Me: Now you’ve done it, Carolyn … your kind message has my tear ducts working overtime. 

How do you expect me to watch “The Voice” with massive tears in my eyes?

BTW, from now on, if it’s not an emergency, only message me during commercials.

(Whoops … I meant to be funny, but maybe it came off as a bit harsh. I sure didn’t mean to ruffle any feathers. I better message back quickly.)

Mortal Me: By the way, you will never know just how much your message means to me.

(Oh, my God, yes you will. You are an angel. You know everything about our family and more.)

Thank you, thank you, thank you … and most of all thank you for being you! Like I said, you are an angel … our genuine, one-of-a-kind, Earth Angel.

(Even after this message, I felt I still needed to make sure our Earth Angel knew how much we appreciated her and her original message. I only paused long enough to ask Melissa who didn’t garner enough digital votes to make the night’s final cut on The Voice. She assured me all of my favorites would live to perform another day, so all was right in my world.)

Mortal Me: OK, Carolyn … I am having second thoughts … with messages like the one that kick started this conversation, you may message or call me anytime … day or night, 24/7/365 (Yes, even if/when “The Voice” is in full swing.) Operators standing by!

(That had to do it! I was bee-lining it to the kitchen to create the world’s greatest caramel sundae for me, myself and I. I was a happy dude. Whoops … there’s the signal … another message!)

Our Earth Angel: Laugh on!

You and Melissa are a blessing to me. This arrangement has helped me to rediscover so much about myself. I was at a major crossroad last year, and now life is so much clearer. Thank you for the opportunity to care for your mother. This is truly a God Thing!

Good night.

(At this stage, I knew I didn’t need to message back. After all, she is our earth angel. She hears my heart and my soul. She cares for all of us.

All I had to do was whisper, “Good night”.)

Sun, Sun, Sun, Here It Comes

Little darling
It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter
Little darling
It feels like years that it’s been here

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I’m celebrating and commemorating my little darling’s epoch-making 95th winter almost ending and 95th spring almost beginning with two exclamation points!!

I thought about doing it with ninety-five exclamation points, but that would be a little over the top. So, I’ll just silently count ninety-five of them, point by point, as they prance and dance around in my head.

This has been one mighty long, cold winter and mom, as usual, has been a mighty warrior standing up to Old Man W.

Mom may have had the sniffles a time or two, but she never missed a day at Circle Center Adult Day Care. She has traveled by wheel chair from her home to her waiting chariot, to Circle Center and back in rain, sleet, snow, wind, and cold, cold, cold!

Did I mention cold?

She never complained, never hid under the covers, never did anything but get bundled up and go like a windup toy. How many of you can hold a hand up and count yourself as one with mom?

Mom is tough stuff. Even with a father who started his career in medicine as a horse and buggy doctor, she never took advantage of it. She never got sick.

Do I hear an exclamation?

Exclamation!

Amen!

Little darling
The smiles returning to the faces
Little darling
It seems like years since it’s been here

I smile every time I’m with my ninety-five year old little darling, because she always smiles at me first. And, when she smiles, I smile. It’s as simple as that. It can be cold as ice or hotter than hell … I know I’ll get a smile out of her, guaranteed!

For the rest of the us, spring will be heating our lips up enough to have smiles returning to our faces, but for mom, that patented smile of hers never left.

That’s ninety-five, unstoppable, smile filled years … yep, you guessed it … !

For mom being a smiling mom through thick and thin, I brought her a handpicked daffodil.

2015-03-29 15.24.38

Little darling
I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling
It seems like years since it’s been clear

No matter how promising it sounds when the Beatles sing their song, Here Comes the Sun, ice slowly melting is not nearly fast enough for me.

Today, I had to bundle up and replace a dripping outdoor water spigot (funny word) at mom’s. It was making unwanted icicles, and and adding unwanted expenses to the water bill. How cold was it? So cold that I was one of only a handful of people who braved the cold to be in a Walmart … that’s how cold (time for another exclamation)!

Two days ago, Melissa and I were hiking in the Blue Ridge mountains, experiencing spring springing up on one side of the mountain, the same time it was snowing on the other. Even the wildlife looked confused.

Tom Spring Springing Melissa Spring Springing Spring Springing Tom Melissa Snow Mountains

Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun
And, I say, it’s all right

Mom is still aware of the seasons. In the winter she points to trees and calls them naked. It the spring and summer, she knows they turned over a new leaf. She likes to have the window cracked just a bit when she is in the car. She loves the feel of the warm breeze.

Having spent the majority of my life in the Sunshine State of Florida, I love the sun. In fact, it was one winter, after a long career in Richmond, that was the straw that broke one frozen camel’s back and sent me packing back to Florida for seventeen years before coming full circle back to Richmond to care for my mom and sister.

Call me crazy, but I’ll take light over dark any day. And, I’ll take warm over cold the same way. The only places I really love ice are in my tea, my cocktails and when it’s cooling off a cooler full of beer.

So, again I look up to the lady who has been shorter than me for most of my life, that little stick of dynamite, my mom. My little darling, mom, is a mom for all seasons, but as for me, I’m a sunshiner!

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
And I say, it’s alright

Sunshine Daffodils

 

 

 

Mom, Old Man Winter & Me

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Mom, Old Man Winter & Me

As you can see from this picture taken a couple of days ago, after another Arctic blast dropped temps to the mid-teens, my mom is a champ!

Even with all the ice, sleet, hail, wind and cold Old Man Winter has thrown our way, mom has never missed a day at Circle Center Adult Day Services (except the days they’ve had to wave the white flag)!

And, like she taught my sister and me, she has never complained … not one little bit.

In full disclosure, I have missed a few snow days this season myself. It’s been pretty brutal.

Since I don’t believe Old Man Winter knows who he’s up against, I am sharing my open letter to him as a bit of a Winter Warning.

Old Man Winter,

Counting this one, my mom has faced off with you for 95 seasons that have shared your signature.

As you can see by her smile, you haven’t frozen her out of competing head to head with you yet … and you never will.

In fact, both of us laugh in your face!

You hear what I say, Old Man?

We laugh in your face!

Between Spring, mom and me, we will kick your ice!

Enough is enough,

Tom & Mom

Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You

mom bites blog picMY MOM BITES.

And, she throws a mean left hook. Oh, and while I’m at it, I might as well share the bark part. She barks out words I never, ever heard her say in my entire life (my worst fear is that she may have picked them up from me).

There, I’ve said it … my mom is my little stick of dynamite and should come equipped with a warning sign.

I’ve been told it’s the disease. I have been told it is a primal place she goes when she feels threatened, agitated or confused. I have even been told she has a mean streak. Dementia, old age, constipation, the next stage, whatever … warning, warning, warning.

Now, before you go back and reread all of my blogs and say they were a cover up, or made up, or not on the up and up, please know they are all true. But, so are the things I am describing in this blog.

Mom in a Blanket

Shhh! Let sleeping moms lie.

Most of the time mom is indeed a joyful person. Most of the time she is cooperative and appreciative of those of us who are lending her a hand. Most of the time she lulls you into believing it’s going to be all of the time, but it’s not … and the change, more often than not, occurs without warning.

People who care for my mom love her.

People who care for my mom are wary of her (remember that mean left hook).

And, I am by no means the only one experiencing all of the above. I have friends who I met in the Circle Center Adult Day Care support group who are also primary caregivers for a loved one, At times, my friends look more challenged than who they’re caring for.

No one I have ever known looks forward to waking up in the morning (or middle of the night) to be bitten, hit, or barked at … especially by someone you love.

And yet, when caregivers share their stories with each other, they/we always express that we feel guilty for the way we feel. Or, feeling it must be something we’re doing (or not doing) to provoke the behaviors we’re on the receiving end of.

So, we just take it.

TOM’S WARNING: Caregiving is not for the weak of heart. You must be damn tall to ride this ride.

WHAT IT TAKES.

It takes courage.

It takes willpower.

It takes conviction.

It takes love.

And, if you are not careful, it takes you out.

Word to the wise: TAKE CARE!

Never forget, caregiving is a give and take proposition.

The problem is, we give so much, we forget the mission critical importance of the take part.

Caring for yourself and letting others care for you are the keys to your sustainability.

This is not a sprint … it is not even a marathon … it is a run for your life!

TAKE CARE!

Take time outs.

Take time for yourself.

Take memories.

Take a cry.

Take a laugh.

Take hugs.

Take a hot bubble bath … make a that a double.

Take help from yourself.

Take help from others.

Take care whenever and wherever you can get it and never feel guilty or unworthy.

Take guilt and the feeling of unworthiness and throw them away.

Take pride in what you are accomplishing and applaud the courage it often takes to meet the ever changing, always rearranging needs of your loved one.

Take whatever it takes to protect your individuality and your right to make a life for yourself.

Never forget … caregiving is a give and take proposition. If you do forget, it will come back to bite you.

For every give you give, make sure you take a take.

We’ve all heard the familiar mantra of the airline flight attendants during their pre-flight instructions, “…make sure to put the oxygen mask on yourself first before attempting to help someone else put on theirs.”

The question is, are you are listening?

Make this your mantra!

TAKE CARE!

Serenity Prayer

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and (the) wisdom to know the difference.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hysterical Historical Holiday Solution

Guest blog by my wife, Melissa

Kenzie & Helen

Kenzie & Helen

Every year, we celebrate Christmas with Tom’s daughters (Tovi & Lissi), their husbands (Ty & Chris) and the six grandchildren (Thomas, Patrick, Fisher, Livi, Kenzie & Tyli) between Christmas and New Year’s.  Tom and I really get into the planning and have created some fun traditions for “Christmas RVA” that we know are on the kiddos “must do” list each year.

Every morning starts off with a hidden clue as to the magic the day will hold.  And, once all the kids are awake, they look for the clue, decipher it and announce the day’s plans (ex: outdoor ice-skating downtown, hot chocolate at the Jefferson Hotel, The Tacky Light Tours, etc.)  And, each year, in honor of Helen, the kids help plan a birthday party for her and decorate the cake.  She’ll be 95 this year! As of last year, we had to stop using individual candles as we were awfully close to a fire hazard at the 93rd celebration!

And, each year, we try to continue Helen’s legacy and love of history by sharing some of the experiences we know she would create for her great grandchildren if she could.  Last year, we visited Mount Vernon and the year prior, Monticello.  This year, we were considering Williamsburg (Note: For those of you who know Helen, you can rest assured we haven’t waited this long to share her love of all things colonial …  we all know and love Williamsburg dearly, but not everyone has seen it casting its candlelight spell during the holidays.)

Last year, the stars aligned and we were able to celebrate together for 6 days.  This year, we’ll have to condense our plans into 3 days which we anticipate to be quite the challenge.  So, this past weekend, we drove down to Wilmington to celebrate Lissi’s birthday and help with Tovi’s move, so we decided to do a little research with the kids.  Which activities would make the cut?  Ice skating and opening presents tied for first.  The “historical” trip ranked low (although they all said yes to Williamsburg if we had more time).

On our last night, as we were gathered around a fire at the Heffron’s and were revealing the results of the kids’ poll with Tovi & Lissi, we shared our dilemma.  Tom and I would have to find a way to fit in the historical experience because we knew we had to make Helen proud.

As everyone considered possible solutions, Kenzie (age 9) piped up with a straight face, “Helen’s historical.”

All eleven of us looked over at her and busted out laughing in unison … problem solved!

Get the Picture?

“Family members of someone with dementia grieve not only the loss of the person they know, but ultimately the death of someone they don’t know.”

– Amy Tucci is president and CEO of the Hospice Foundation of America

(No Picture Needed Here)

While skimming the newspaper this morning, I came across an article by Amy Tucci.

Anything and everything about DEMENTIA and ALZHEIMER’S  screams out at me and stops me in my tracks.  So, even knowing I was about to leap headfirst into disturbing territory, I don’t mind telling you, Amy’s opening line caught me totally off guard.

After reading and rereading it, my immediate reflexive reaction was to grab a tissue and use it to soak up the tears that seemed to come out of nowhere. It ended up being a three tissue, crying-up-a-storm, event. I halfway expected a TV weatherman to appear and issue a warning to everyone in the world to take cover.

After what seemed like forever, the dark clouds moved on, and I was able to take the proverbial three deep breaths. The next thing I did was to try and get my arms around why that opening line packed the punch that it did, after all, I am a seasoned caregiver of four plus years. I have had plenty of time to come to grips with thoughts like the one above, not only with my mom, but with my dad and sister, too.

So, as I sat alone, trying to figure out what just happened, a welcome ray of sunlight entered the room, and the tiniest rainbow I have ever seen appeared just beyond the tip of my nose. No joke! It was a real honest to goodness miniature rainbow … just like in the Wizard of Oz, only small, small, small.

Get the picture? Do you hear Judy Garland singing in the background like I did?

Somewhere, over that little rainbow, I saw mom, not as who she was, or who she will inevitably be, but as she is now. OK, so she is not the mom I knew, but you know what, she makes up for that because of who she is!

On any given day, or moment, she will tell you she is six, or ten, or twenty-one, but never, never, ever ninety-four.

When asked, she’ll tell you her hair is green, or orange, or pink. The only thing for certain is that it is not pure white, which it is.

She is determined and passionate about her desire to marry me. She ask me if I will or would all the time. I deftly change the subject by pointing out something shiny.

She refers to me as her boy or her girl. She uses these words interchangeably, but I can live with that.

Whether I am her boy or her girl is of no concern, what matters is she knows I am hers and that her never ending love for me is the undeniable foundation of our relationship.

The best is when arrive with a, “Hey Momma, Momma, and she lights up and ask, “Is that you, Tom Laughon?” That’s a day maker!

She is joyful.

She is funny.

She doesn’t cry.

She sings made up songs like no one I have ever known. And, when I sing, or we sing together, she claps her hands and rocks to the beat.

She holds me so tightly that I have pry myself loose from her hugs. And, if truth be told, there are times I want her to keep me in her grip forever. You can feel the strength and determination that has allowed her to take a leading role her entire life.

See the little rainbow? Hear the music? Feel the beat? Life. Love. Reflection. Refraction. Real. Illusion. Always a continuous spectrum colors.

There is so much to be grateful for that lies between the “Family members of someone with dementia grieve not only the loss of the person they know” part and the, “but ultimately the death of someone they don’t know” part.

The infinite memories and full spectrum of emotions mom triggers, the rainbows she continues to create … fleeting though they may be … are real and are to be treasured.

Somewhere over the rainbow … when sunlight encounters tears …

Get the picture?

A Birthday Name Game

2014-06-13 20.48.51A guest blog post by my wife, Melissa.

One afternoon this week after work, I walk over to visit Helen.

Just before I slide open the glass door on the back porch, I take a long, deep breath.

It’s not that I am apprehensive or feel uncomfortable … I’ve been observing caregiving situations for as long as I can remember.  My parents and grandparents have instilled in me from a very young age a sense of respect and responsibility for elders.

It’s that I need all the energy that I can muster when I’m with Helen.  At 94 (weeks away from 95), I’ve learned that, although at times she thinks that she is 6 and wants to marry my husband (her son), she has the fiercest instincts of anyone I’ve ever met.

She will shut you out or allow you in or lash out at you (accompanied by an occasional bite) in a matter of seconds.  I’m mindful of the energy I bring into most situations, but I am acutely aware of how critical the energy factor is when I’m with Helen. So, as I’m inhaling at the door, I assume the “me” that I have found to be most effective with Helen … it’s the positive (but not perky), the strong (but not threatening), the kind (but not weak), the cautious (but not afraid) and always respectful me that my mother-in-law needs to feel safe.  So, I take a deep breath and I assume that role … for her.

Helen is sitting in her kitchen at a beautiful pine table made by her husband, Fred (that if you don’t put a tablecloth over, she scratches obsessively and there are the indentations to prove it).  The kitchen looks all at once familiar, yet very different, as all around us are the new caregiver’s belongings and ways of organizing … essential and most appreciated, but seemingly out of place at Cheswick, Helen’s historic (circa 1796) home.

I never know when I start a conversation with Helen, whether I’ll encounter the quick witted and all-knowing Helen or the Helen that asks when someone is going to take her home.  But, thanks to a lot of practice, I’ve learned to be quick on my feet and meet her wherever she is.

Me:  Hi, Helen!

Helen:  Hi, girl!

Me (while hugging Helen):  Hi, Helen … it’s Melissa … I’ve dropped by to see you.

Helen:  I love you.  Your hands are cold.  Give me those.  (She proceeds to blow and kiss them until she deems them warm enough to let go of.)

Me:  Well, I have exciting news.

Helen:  What is it? (Helen loves excitement and has more energy at 5:30 p.m. after a full day at the adult day center than I did at 10 a.m. after my second cup of coffee)

Me:

It is officially the Laughon birthday season.  Are you ready for all the birthday celebrations?

Helen:   I am always ready!

Me:  Well, let’s play a game.

Helen:  Ok, I’m ready (she sits up straighter in her chair).

Me: I’m going to give you hints and you’re going to guess who is having a birthday on Sunday.

Helen:  This Sunday? Ok, I’m ready.

Me:  The first is on November 16thand it’s a boy’s birthday.  He’s funny, he’s handsome and he belongs to you.

Helen:  He belongs to me!?!

Me:  Yes, ma’am.  And, he’s a great singer.

Helen:  (says nothing, but closes her eyes in concentration and nods her head slowly)

Me: And his name starts with a “T”.

Helen:  A “T” …  hmmm … (more concentration and I think I see a little smile)

Me:  Do you know who it is or do you want me to tell you? (giving her this option balances out the fun of this game that she consistently finds engaging but gives her an easy out that she will often take if she’s not sure of the answer)

Helen:  I know who it is … can you guess?

Me:  I think it’s Tom.

Helen:  How’d you know! Tom Laughon, my boy!

Me:  Yes, Helen, Tom’s birthday is Sunday.  We should practice singing Happy Birthday!

I start singing “Happy birthday to you” at the exact time that Helen sings “Jesus loves me this I know” and I smile, give her a squeeze and join in “for the Bible tells me so.”  When we finish, I tell her after Tom’s birthday is Lissi’s (her granddaughter).

Helen:  Claps her hands together and says, “I know that girl!”

Me:  And, Ty and Patrick have birthdays in November.  And, after that … the next birthday is on December 25 … who might that be?

Helen:  Hmmm (closes her eyes again in concentration)

Me:  December 25 … Christmas Day

Helen:  Me … Helen Douglas Martin Laughon … my birthday is Christmas Day.

 

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