Recently, I took Mom to an emergency dental appointment. We pulled up next to the Spokane Party Bus.
Hoping to mitigate her anxiety, I asked, “Wanna get on the Party Bus?”
“No thanks,” she replied. “They’d probably take you and leave me behind. Plus, I didn’t brush my teeth this morning.”
This even, though I’d called to remind her to brush them 10 minutes before I picked her up.
Caring for a 94-year-old lady with dementia can be a lot like dealing with a recalcitrant preschooler – equal parts exasperation and amusement.
I prefer to focus on the fun, so I’m glad that for many years I’ve been tracking her humor with the hashtag #ThingsMyMomSays.
April 2016
Mom explained a bit of family faith history.
“Your grandma and grandpa had a mixed marriage. Her dad was Lutheran, and his dad was Baptist. One sprinkled, the other dunked. Neither dad was happy about the marriage, but they came around and became great friends.”
April 2018
Mom had a panic attack during her oral surgery appointment, so the paramedics were called.
She was in good spirits after a few hours in the ER – except for her missing socks. Somehow, they’d misplaced her socks.
She put her underwear on over the hospital-issued panties.
“They’ve got my socks, so I’m keeping their underwear,” she said.
June 2018
Today, I noticed her birthday balloons from March had finally deflated.
“I guess they died before me after all,” she said. “We were neck-and-neck for a while.”
May 2019
I told Mom the dining room was serving French dips for dinner.
“Well, they better not expect me to speak French!” she said.
September 2020
During our visit today, I reminded her to pull her mask up over her nose.
“It’s kind of big,” I said.
“My NOSE?” she replied. “I can’t help it. I got the Schmidt schnoz.”
May 2021
I found Mom in the lobby looking lovely in a yellow sweater. She’d visited the hair salon and had her photo taken because it was the facility’s picture day.
“I told them I didn’t need my picture taken because my kids take too many of me.”
“But these are professional photos,” I said.
“Well, that doesn’t mean I’ll look any better,” she said.
October 2021
This week, I cleaned out one of the cupboards in Mom’s kitchenette.
It was overflowing with Ziploc bags, plastic bags, foil, and used plastic lids with straws.
“Any idea why you’re saving all this?” I asked.
She shrugged.
“You never know, I might get invited to a picnic.”
Which doesn’t explain anything, but it made me laugh.
January 2022
I helped Mom fill out a reflection about 2021. A sample question: “What did you learn last year?”
Mom thought it over.
“I don’t think I learned anything. I’m just trying not to forget what I already know.”
“How’s that going for you?” I asked.
“Who are you again?” she replied.
April 2025
I picked up a couple of dirty shirts in Mom’s bedroom.
“I’ll take these home and wash them,” I said. “The laundry service is iffy here, but I learned from the best. The only thing you tried to teach me that I haven’t mastered is ironing.”
“Oh, honey, I really need you to learn how, now,” she said.
“Why?”
“I need you to iron the wrinkles from my face!”
July 2025
We were talking about a mutual friend who refuses to get hearing aids. Mom says there’s a lady at her dining table who won’t wear hers and then says, “What? What?” when people are talking.
“I put mine in first thing every morning, so I can hear everything,” Mom said.
Then she shrugged.
“Of course, I still have NO idea what’s going on.”
A couple of weeks ago, while going over the weekly activity calendar with her, I spotted something intriguing.
“Oh! Two Gray Cats are going to do a show next week,” I said. “I’d like to see them.”
She sighed and patted my hand.
“Cindy, you do know they’re not really cats, don’t you?”
She may be 94, but Mom is still keeping me on my toes.
Cindy Hval 