86 year old father arrives for 85 day stay!

Posted on Friday 12 February 2010 at 04:09

Yikes - I have a full 85 days of my 86 year old father staying with me.  Let's just take a moment to recognise the magnitude of that.

Actually, on second thoughts.......let's not as I might not like what that does to me!  On a serious note, my dad has come to stay for a bit as he's not been too well recently.  He lives in the UK whilst me and my sister both live in Houston, Texas with our families.  He's visited lots of times before, but never for more than two weeks, at the end of which my sister are I are sad and elated in equal measure to be waving him off at the airport!

I love my dad dearly, but he can sometimes embody the personality of Harry Enfield's old gits or possibly the male version of the more recent Katherine Tate's "nan".  So it's with some level of trepidation that I agreed for him to stay for such an extended period.  It's needed to help him out whilst he's feeling bad, and joking aside I want to do it as I love him very much.

For the purposes of this blog however, I thought it would be mightily funny and maybe informative, to write about my day to day experiences of having him here.  I'm sure it will be therapeutic for me as ranting on here will be far less harmful than ranting out loud!  I’ve submitted an article about the back story to his stay and the dilemmas that accompany it called “Parenting a Parent from Afar”, which hopefully the power that be will publish to give you all a little more detail.  But for now, this is the story of his visit.

He arrived on Saturday (so not even a week down yet), in full WWII regalia:  beret, medals and all.  The Captain announced there was a “special passenger” on board and prompted everyone to clap him.  He has been dining out (literally) on this story for the entire week so far, telling everyone who he can stop for long enough.

So far this week I’ve had him tell me he’s not hungry, only to then watch him wolf down the mountainous meal I’ve put in front of him.  Tell me he’s not tired, only to witness him snoring on the couch within thirty seconds of such protestations.  And finally, swear blind he’s lovely and clean when the soap I’ve placed on the side of the bath remains as bone dry as when I took it out of its packet.  I’m treating him (in my mind at least) as though I have a toddler in my midst – one that needs structure (feeding, clothing and running a bath for) and also one that you’re unlikely to reason with on some arguments so I’m picking my battles. 

The soap incident I decided was a good battle to pick as frankly I don’t want Stinky Pete as a house guest!  The other things I’ve let go as I’m ultimately just grateful that I’m getting three square meals a day into him and that he’s getting a nice rest in between.  Picking battles is a fine art I’ve learned as a parent, so being able to use it now on my own parent I guess is the Circle of Life somehow.  In fact, as I ran a bath for him tonight, I couldn’t help but think about how many baths he must have run for me as a child.  How many times he’d checked the temperature of the water as I now was for him.  Laid the hot fluffy towels out for me, as I now was for him.  And placed clean pyjamas all nice and ready, as I had for him.  The Circle of Life indeed.

So, in conclusion for my first ever blog my hope is that this will a funny, moving, and informative record of what my next few weeks are going to be like with my dad.  I hope we all enjoy it.

Thanks for sharing this with us

Posted by Jo.Ru_onway on Friday 12 February 2010 at 08:55 - Link

Oh my god, I cant wait.
My father moved in with me and my now ex husband when we lived in Malta.
I can already relate to the "im not that hungry" then devouring his meal as though he hasnt eaten for a week !!
Jo
x

This sounds like fun!

Posted by ann m on Sunday 14 February 2010 at 04:18 - Link

Looking forward to hearing more about dad, the armchair, and the steam from your ears!