Octogenarian Mischief

Just to take some focus off the princess here I thought I should write something about my mother whose birthday it is today.  I told her that I hadn’t bought her a present yet but thought that the gift of me should be enough.  She laughed.

I’ve frequently written about all the wonderful qualities my mother has but she also is endowed with a number of idiosyncrasies that are coming to the fore as she ages.  One of the things that she has started which confounds the family is suddenly commencing a Danish dialogue where she throws in a whole lot of words that we’ve never heard before.  For example yesterday as we were going for a drive she used a word that I ultimately discovered meant “livestock”.  I am still not sure what the word actually was but it sounded sort of like a misfiring spark plug (remember Danish is a Germanic language).  I looked at her sideways and said “Mom, why have you decided to use these words when we are all elderly people?” to which she responded that she thought we ought to know them.  Now?  Just before we enter the grave? I’m going to need to know the Danish word for livestock?  Oh that’s right, the Lord is my Shepherd.

Most of the time we can jump into the new scenario she brings up but every once in a while we are confounded.  We sort of know her routine when a road, bus, pothole, school, politician or the like is mentioned.  We can even jump light-years into the conversation when something segues from greenhouse gas to bowel movements but when we go from designer clothes to a man carrying a wheelbarrow full of bricks we get a little lost along the way.  It’s not that she is evenly remotely gaga but she will decide she doesn’t want to talk about A-line skirts versus a flute style and will just change the subject willy-nilly.  

Every once in a while she will tell a story on herself that puts another light on a person we’ve always thought was perfect and sweet.  For instance she retold a story about a time she and dad drove to Lethbridge when a snowstorm suddenly came up.  This time she happened to mention that all along she was noticing that there was steam coming out of the engine but she never said anything to dad. So he drove along until at last the car died (and as it turned out, the motor had burned out).  She admitted that she just wanted to get home so she thought she’d just “wait and see what happened”.  There we are, all 4 of us sitting there with our mouths open, shocked.  She just laughed.  

So this morning I had been sweating up a storm on the treadmill and was finishing off with my crunches when I heard the phone ring for the second time.  I thought by now she remembers that it’s her birthday and surely she will pick up the phone.  No, she doesn’t.  She waits for me to stop what I am doing, run to the phone only to hear a click on the other end.  Passive aggressive behaviour?  Taunting the retiree?  Deaf?  Because it’s her birthday I will give her the benefit of the doubt, but this octogenarian bears watching.