Trying to shift mindset.

Two really good days.  

I managed two really good days without getting mad or frustrated at my dad.  

Over the weekend we did our annual family trip to Medieval Times.  It's this birthday tradition we have - one of the kids always asks to go around their birthday, so we make it happen.  My Dad has gone several times with us and this year, he asked several weeks ago if we would be going for Megan's birthday (he had missed the trip we did at the end of July last year due to not feeling well - that was the start of the whole downhill slide we've been on).  The thing to know is that if my Dad asks about something it means he really wants to do it.  It's "dad" for being excited, and he had been asking about it for several weeks.   In fact, when he got out of the hospital, he asked me if we had already gone and seemed upset that he may have missed it.  He hadn't and I considered him into the plan so he could enjoy himself along with us. 

Our trip started just fine.  He had napped the majority of the morning and afternoon.  Kacy and I had a lovely hurkle durkle, snuggling up before we both crawled out of bed to get ready for our field trip.  The kids were all in a fun and good mood.  Before we all piled in the car, I vacuumed all the dog hair out, laughing at the amount of shedding that Kara had done prior to her last grooming appointment.  The drive to Orlando was nothing spectacular.  GPS took us a different way than what we were used to and we got a little nervous, but we made it with plenty of time to spare. 

We got to the tournament, were taken to our seats (Dad has his walker with him) and we settled into cheer for our knight - Green this time, one that we hadn't cheered for before.  Our seats were high above the arena and if I'm being honest, while I did enjoy it, I didn't necessarily feel like I was truly a part of the tournament.  I felt like I was barely there.  The story was the same, but this tournament felt different to me.  I'm not sure why. 

My Dad ate the majority of his food and seemed to really enjoy himself... at least until the jousting started.  He had scarfed down the chicken and corn, wasn't too much of a fan of the potato (he left half of it on the plate, later complaining it needed butter), thoroughly enjoyed the soup and garlic bread and even ate 3 of the small eclairs they brought for dessert (the kids didn't like theirs).  Once the jousting started, though, he started getting fidgety.  He looked annoyed, and just as the first two knights took off towards each other, lances in hand, he turned and informed me that he was going to the restroom.  I asked him if he wanted me to go with him and he said no.  I watched him walk to the bathroom (which was at the end of the aisle - maybe 30 feet away?).  My head swiveled between the bathroom and the action in the arena.  It felt like forever.  I saw a few more people go in and come out of the bathroom and finally, after about 10 minutes, I saw my Dad at the bathroom sink (the door had opened) washing his hands.  I took a deep breath and settled back against Kacy.  

When he came back to his seat, and noticed that our castle wench was clearing the plates, he took $30 out of his wallet and waived it at her.  It was that moment that I knew he was ready to go and it pissed me off and his increasingly bad attitude just added to my anger. 

This was not his trip.  This was the kids' trip.  We have rarely gotten out as a family since August because of him.  We don't plan family outings anymore because he gets tired and worn out quickly and I don't want him to feel left out.  We have tried to take the kids out individual as time allows, but as a group? Even if we were to take him somewhere just the two of us, whether it be the zoo, aquarium, beach... He gets tired and grumpy.  Midway through the jousting, he asked me whether I thought $20 was a good enough tip.  I told him to tip whatever he wanted (I was planning to add a tip to the receipt when they brought it by).  It was right then and there that I knew he wanted to leave.  He wanted to get out before anyone else, the show not even over, and I absolutely wasn't having it. 

Kacy instantly read the change in my body language.  I'm sure everyone around me could see the look on my face and read me, it's not like I have a filter anyway.  The look on my face went from screaming for the Green Knight to win to a look of utter and sheer annoyance.  The tournament ended, people began filing past us and my Dad shot me a look and in an incredibly cranky tone told me that he could see his walker (I told him we needed to wait to get it) and that he could walk down the stairs, me carrying his walker.  

The hell I was.  

He had been brought up to our level in the elevator and I fully intended him to go back to the ground level in the elevator.  On top of that, I would not have let him go down those stairs with all those people crowding around us, pushing, etc.  My Dad began to through a mini-tantrum.  He could see his walker, he wanted to go get it and he wanted to go now.  I had enough and pulled out the Mom voice and told him to sit and settle down that we would move when the crowd cleared. 

This was also the point where I got mad.  I understood he wanted to leave.  I wanted to leave too, but knowing that it was going to take a hot minute to get out, that we would be going down in the elevator and not carrying his walker, I wasn't going to let him push me and the rest of our family into rushing to get out.  

For as long as I have been going to restaurants with my Dad, this is what he does.  He'll go out to eat, scarf down his food, no talking, no enjoyment of the atmosphere, just eat, pay the bill, and leave. If anyone is eating slowly, or if we are enjoying ourselves and the conversation we are having, he fidgets.  He gets agitated.  His last straw move is saying: "I'm going to the bathroom."  This is Dad code for saying I'm going to thebathroom and then leaving.  Full stop.  No more conversation.  No more enjoyment.  Get a doggy bag for the left overs and you better meet me by the exit by the time I get out of the bathroom.   If you don't meet him by the door, or take too much time going to the bathroom, bagging up leftovers, etc... Let's just say there have been quite a few times over the course of my life that I've waited for my Dad inside a restaurant and he's already outside, car running, looking upset.   Me being me, I usually make light of the situation and after about 5 minutes and sticking my head in the bathroom, run outside and found him. 

This time, though, I was upset.  I was enjoying some much needed family time with the kids.  I was enjoying sitting next to Kacy, whooping and cheering and turning my brain off.  My Dad didn't seem to give us the opportunity to enjoy the evening.  Everything always seems to be on his time table and it really pissed me off.  My entire world has revolved around him and taking care of him since August.  I dropped everything, including my family, and went to Kentucky for 2 months for him.  We moved him into our home, rearranging everything for him and while he sees it and occasionally says thank you, I don't really feel appreciated.  The majority of my day goes into deciphering what he wants, what he needs, taking him to doctor appointments, etc.   He never comes out and says what he wants.  It's all a puzzle for me to figure out and I hate puzzles. 

I have talked to him about being more direct and communicating with us but the reality is that his mental state is that of a child.  His emotional state is not much better.  I can't and don't want to yell at him or have an argument because he doesn't understand what's going on.  It's his base programming - the "I've done this for 82 years and there is no changing me."  It makes me so angry, which in turn makes me feel guilty because I should not get mad about stuff like this.  I don't think he can help it and it's just the way things are now.  

On the way home we stopped for gas and Dad started talking about how there was no comparison between Medieval Times and another show that we saw in Orlando.  He was trying to engage me and I'm fairly sure that he knew I was mad.  My comments back to him were short and terse.  I was still mad and resigned to the fact that he will never understand.  I also hate the fact that I feel guilty about treating him this way.  It's not his fault.  

I have been trying to shift my mindset away from this, but have been having trouble.  I'm tired with home life and want desperately for status quo - meaning work/home balance.  Somedays are definitely harder than others...