On Momentum
I have a friend named Karen who has three boys, ages five and under. I have an eighty one year old mother with a brain damaged by stroke and physical problems on the side.
I often wonder how the other Karen does it, keep up with three young kids, and I realized it has to do with momentum. Kids supply their own momentum if not always in the necessary direction. Of course, three small boys combined probably don't have the amount of mass that my mother has, but they have a plethora of velocity. Given that momentum somehow equals mass times velocity, I think they are off the charts.
My mother is lacking in momentum. She has the desire for it, but can't seem to remember to ask, suggest or do anything. I have to provide momentum for two. It's hard to to muster up the necessary momentum day after day to drag a 130 pound woman plus wheelchair into the pool, out of the pool. For a walk. To do exercises. A struggle to mount a conversation with a woman who omits verbs and nouns from her not quite sentences. When asked what she wants to do, a common response is "This one" with her first finger pointing at the ceiling.
If you're confused, no worries. So am I. "This one" can mean a sleeping pill, reading a book, television, a walk or a number of other things that will require five minutes of guessing games before communication is established.
So some days, I grit me teeth and chat over dinner. An exchange of three sentences is about fifteen minutes worth of questions, signs, waiting and frustration on both sides. Some days I don't even try. I'm too tired, or too frustrated, and just want to put food on the table in front of her and read the paper or clean the toilet while she eats.
So the next time your small child chatters up a storm, count your blessings. At least feigning interest and a few well placed "oh really" and "that was very nice" will carry your for fifteen minutes with kids. I on the other hand, am stuck flipping through a Swedish-English dictionary, trying to comprehend a nounless and verbless sentence and asking questions that will help me figure out what my mother is trying to say.
Least you judge me, when you've been trying to teach someone to say "bedroom" for nine years without consistent success, it's frustrating and you have to give me kudos for trying again tomorrow - a tactic I've employed for nine years now.
I often wonder how the other Karen does it, keep up with three young kids, and I realized it has to do with momentum. Kids supply their own momentum if not always in the necessary direction. Of course, three small boys combined probably don't have the amount of mass that my mother has, but they have a plethora of velocity. Given that momentum somehow equals mass times velocity, I think they are off the charts.
My mother is lacking in momentum. She has the desire for it, but can't seem to remember to ask, suggest or do anything. I have to provide momentum for two. It's hard to to muster up the necessary momentum day after day to drag a 130 pound woman plus wheelchair into the pool, out of the pool. For a walk. To do exercises. A struggle to mount a conversation with a woman who omits verbs and nouns from her not quite sentences. When asked what she wants to do, a common response is "This one" with her first finger pointing at the ceiling.
If you're confused, no worries. So am I. "This one" can mean a sleeping pill, reading a book, television, a walk or a number of other things that will require five minutes of guessing games before communication is established.
So some days, I grit me teeth and chat over dinner. An exchange of three sentences is about fifteen minutes worth of questions, signs, waiting and frustration on both sides. Some days I don't even try. I'm too tired, or too frustrated, and just want to put food on the table in front of her and read the paper or clean the toilet while she eats.
So the next time your small child chatters up a storm, count your blessings. At least feigning interest and a few well placed "oh really" and "that was very nice" will carry your for fifteen minutes with kids. I on the other hand, am stuck flipping through a Swedish-English dictionary, trying to comprehend a nounless and verbless sentence and asking questions that will help me figure out what my mother is trying to say.
Least you judge me, when you've been trying to teach someone to say "bedroom" for nine years without consistent success, it's frustrating and you have to give me kudos for trying again tomorrow - a tactic I've employed for nine years now.
Labels: Caregiving
posted by Karin Zirk at
3:00 PM
1 Comments:
Oh, Honey, I hear you. I think with kids, you also get to see the constant blossoming, the learning, and in your case you see the slowing and decaying.
Although, I do have to say... sometimes a child's momentum is in the opposite direction than the one you want to go. Getting kicked in the gut while you carry a squirming angry child to his time-out place for the 14th time in 60 seconds is not the easiest.
And I do sometimes "read the paper" while my kids eat, for my own sanity. But at least they have each other when I do.
Sorry its so frustrating.
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