Nightmare week: Day 3

Daniel’s day today, started at the Central Africa Museum, outside Brussels. A museum that his teachers are highly impressed by. They even had the students read this long controversial book about Belgium and it’s colony in Africa, how badly the Belgians treated the natives and so on. It’s had Daniel very upset during the weeks that he has read it so I wonder how he felt at the museum. He got very angry by everything that he read in the book. It started many conversations on superior race theories, slaves, colonies held by European countries, what happened when freedom came, and so on. Daniel tends to see the world in black and white so sometimes our discussions can get very heated. I have suggested that he reads “Roots” but he has not taken me up on it. That book made a very deep impression on me when I read it as a teenager. Belgians are not the only ones behaving poorly!

Daniel is also going to this cemetery for the Devonshire’s and then the class will spend the rest of the day in all the trenches at the battle of Somme grounds. I hope that their weather is better than ours but he did pack both rain jacket and rain trousers so he should be alright. And I guess if it rains, they really get some of the authentic feeling for what the poor soldiers had to live through, day after day, year after year. I guess his day will be as full as mine.

So far the day has been too hectic for my liking but I fully expected it to be, minus one aspect. This morning was worse than ever. At 7:55, 5 minutes before we needed to leave, “Boo” and “Kitty” were hitting each other, “Boo” still not having got dressed nor eaten his breakfast. Baby was walking around in poopy nappy and still wearing pyjamas but having had breakfast. I had just stepped out of the shower, getting dressed, after fixing breakfast, ironing all clothes plus the wet dress that “Cookie” wants to perform in this evening instead of the one we had chosen a week ago. Why the change of dress? Because she needs help buttoning the back on the pink one from last week and she told me last night that she does not dare to ask for help! So I had to wash her sailor dress that she had spilled chocolate milk on! At 7:55 I ran around getting dressed screaming questions to her: “Do you have hair brush? Elastic bands for your hair? Dance shoes? Leggings? Pirate outfit? Will they put on make up on all of you there?”. She did not know the answer to the last question and frankly I do not care anymore. If they want the children to wear stage make up, they can put it on. I don’t have the time! Nor do I have the colours they want. “Dollie” our diva, sat in the middle of the chaos, watching TV!!! Help out? Are you crazy?

After dropping everybody, I came home to have breakfast but by now I had a full blown migraine. I took medicine and then my mother phones out of the blue. I have had bad conscience for not phoning her but with my phone phobia, I just haven’t been able to pick up the receiver. And what do I say? What do I talk about? She doesn’t remember a thing! When I answered the phone, I thought I was back in February. We had EXACTLY the same conversation today as we had that day when she phoned. It was like being in a time warp. Everything I said then, had to be repeated today but in less time since I sat with my legs crossed, needing the lavatory, and only having half an hour before “Sparky” needed to be fetched. Our cordless phone is still missing so I had to stand by the phone the entire conversation. She was angry and upset saying that someone was trying to declare her mentally insane, that she has just started to think about selling the house, having emptied the attic, when will I come and fetch my things and Monica hers, and finally that her case is now in the Supreme Court and she is a nervous wreck. I told her that she had written an angry letter declaring that she needs no help so she has created this by herself, but she has no memory of that. I honestly don’t know what to do about her. It’s just so awful and I have no wish at all to go up there to find a box full of garbage. But I guess sooner or later I have to do that. I have misplaced the phone number that the trustee gave me, but I will have to find that and phone her and ask what on Earth is going on. But I fear that she will tell me that since my mother refuses to accept her as trustee, noone can help her.

Later on: I found the telephone number and mustered up the courage to phone Elisabeth Hurtig, the trustee. She answered her mobile phone and said she was soooo happy! My mum had just phoned her and apologized 15 times during the conversation, so the trustee is willing to draw a line over the past and begin again. She is going to visit my mum on Friday and my mum has told her to make her come to her senses if she looses it again. So far so good but what I then had to listen to, was not at all amusing. Hurtig has not been to my mum’s since she was balled out that day in February! My mother never did phone and apologize back then like she told me she would. That makes me so upset. Hurtig said that she did not dare to go back there, that she feared my mother would stand with a rolling pin in the door and bang her over the head. That is how angry my mother was. Instead she had contacted social services and told them she no longer dared to go to my mum and could they go and explain things to her and check up on her. They had gone just a day or two later and she had been pleasant but had been adamant that she needs absolutely no help at all and they phoned Hurtig and said that they can not force help upon people, so they will not go back! Great! Hurtig told me what my mother’s angry letter to the legal guardian office has done. They had politely answered it and said that fine, she only needs to submit a doctor’s certificate to them, that says that she needs no trustee and everything will be the way she wants it to be. No such certificate has been sent to them! Frankly, I doubt a single doctor would sign such a document! Hurtig thinks that my mother realized that. Perhaps? I think she probably did not even know how to go about getting such a document. She doesn’t seem capable of anything right now. What I need to do now, when the errand has gone to the higher courts, is to write to them before Monday, and tell them that she needs help no matter what she says. Thanks for not telling me sooner! Hurtig will do the same thing. I feel so sad! When driving to fetch the children,  dropping “Cookie” at the theater for the dance performance, and then driving the others home, I could not stop thinking about it all. How it was when my mother came here to visit. How happy the children were even though they knew how awful she would behave. I sat and thought about her taking such interest in her looks, always coming nicely dressed, with a teal handbag, parking her green car outside our house. I thought about the clothing shop Flash having 25% off now on trousers and how she went to their sale three years ago to get identical jeans like I had just bought there. I bet she doesn’t care about anything like that anymore. And she will never park her car outside our house again. It’s so sad that in just two years, she has gone from a woman living a full life, to one that is hardly having any memory anymore. I drove by the cemetery and the pain in my heart overwhelmed me. My sweet little Serena Rose! I started to think that when my mother dies, which seems not too far off now, I want her to be cremated so that we can have her here too, in the village, just like my baby Serena. She wants to live in this province! Why bury her in Trollhättan where noone will go visit the grave and noone will take care of it? “Dollie” said that we must go up there soon and get her down here but I just looked sadly at her and told her the truth. Her grandmother will never move down here. It’s too late. She is not capable of anything like that and noone in Trollhättan believes in such a move. Helping her to move would take months and lots and lots of help, help that noone can give her. I would not be surprised if she is dead within three years. I had my suspicions confirmed today by Hurtig. I asked her if she thinks that my mother drinks and she confirmed. She told me that my mother is probably at the licensed once or twice a week, but that it is wine she drinks. She does not think she gets drunk but she is lonely, noone ever comes to visit her, she probably doesn’t go to any activities anymore, and she consoles herself with alcohol. I told her that I am shocked, sad, and that this is not a behaviour that my mother has ever showed before. But she said that it is not uncommon in this situation at all and that she is in her full right to drink. When I told her that I am concerned about the combination alcohol and high blood pressure medicine and so forth, she said there is nothing anyone can do about it, that of course it is not optimal, but so far so good. It seems like my mum is digging her own grave completely. Earlier today she told me that she was petrified of this court case. I lost my temper and asked her “What for? It’s not like you have committed a crime! You started this with your angry letter, you asked for this, and besides, there is not court date for you is there so it is probably just a paper process!”. She doesn’t even understand that! She really is like Drew Barrymore in “50 First Dates”! We need to make her a DVD to watch every morning when she wakes up. “Hello! I am Marianne and …” Problem is that she needs to watch the DVD every hour probably while Drew Barrymore in the film only needed to watch it every morning. Why could she not have seen sense while she had some?


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