Month: March 2014

I suppose all families are dysfunctional in some way.

As our parents age I guess that their good points and bad points are accentuated.

In the case of my parents at least, this is true. 

I’ve been here a month, I’ve cleaned, fixed, moved stuff and made suggestions for the longer term fixes that should be made by professionals.

My stepdad was unfortunately the one who answered a phone call about repairing the wiring and adding a timer for the pool pump. He talked for about 5 minutes then hung up the phone. (I couldn’t help but flash on myself at 15 expecting a call from friends inviting me to a concert and knowing the call came, my stepdad intercepted it then lied to my face. I knew he was lying because he said you don’t need to go to a concert, as he was telling me there’d been no call for me.)

I asked him what the estimate on the timer and replacement of bad wiring was, his response “There is no Estimate!”

Ahhh you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink. You can however drown ‘em in that same pool of water!

---

The problem here is denial. 

Neither of my parents are in good health, and while they’re not that old, they are both overweight and haven’t taken care of themselves particularly well through the years.

You could open a well stocked pharmacy with all the prescriptions on the counter tops.

Neither of them can keep up with this house anymore. My stepdad thinks he’s handy, but he’s not. When it comes to things like tools, being able to build something, or repair anything he’s all but useless. 

Case in point. This is what happens when a breaker blows.

Clearly the reason the exterior outlet isn’t working is because there’s something wrong with the wiring! Obviously it must be torn out and sorted, then left hanging out of the conduit! Yeah that will make it work better!

I have to wait for the parents to be gone when I try to fix this one. I’m going to have to turn off breakers and that would interrupt the incessant babbling of the TV.  

That’s not too big a deal but the stepdad would what to know what I’m doing and why. Then he’ll be yelling and swearing; “I’ve been meaning to get back to that!” (I personally know these wires have been like this for 2 years.)

I’ve done what I can, much of it invisible. Many of the repairs I’ve made are things that will escape their notice, except that things will simply work. 

Neither of them want to admit that they’re losing the battle against entropy.

None of us ever wants to admit that. But there comes a time when you have to simply accept what’s happening and adapt.

I’ve made the suggestion that they sell this place and move to something more manageable. That suggestion went over like a lead ballon.

My sister and I have made the suggestion that they get a housekeeper. You’d have thought we killed the cat.

Their refusal to admit what’s happening, isn’t all that unusual, but they refuse to see that their quality of life is degrading or that all it takes is a phone call to a cleaning firm, or a repair firm to reverse the tide.

My mom is closer to accepting this reality than my stepdad.

For him it’s about ego and pride (even though he was NEVER good at household maintenance. He’s an academic with tons of book knowledge and zero common sense.

It’s funny, all his brothers got the “Builder Gene” One is a contractor, the other is a former contractor, the third is, or was a sign painter / builder.

One of my grandfathers was a “Master Carpenter”. My genetic dad was good a fixing and building stuff. I spent a summer visit with him helping to build a house. It was fun and he was great at giving instructions that even as a kid I could follow without hesitation.

I came by the fix it gene honestly, from both sides of the family.

My stepdad never learned how things worked or developed any artistic ability when it comes to patching holes with spackle, and God help you if he wants to help you paint. None of his tools get put back where they belong or cleaned properly. 

He used to blame us kids about lost / damaged tools. These days he stomps around and swears when a tool goes missing but has no-one to blame. He absolutely will not admit the tool was lost because he didn’t put it back.

I’ve wandered around the yard and collected all kinds of tools from wherever he dropped them. The scary ones were the sharp tined tools laying at the bottom of stairs, tines up! 

At least in the time I’ve been here I’ve managed to make the place a little safer and a little better. 

Now that my stepdad is strong enough to start fighting or undoing every change or cleanup, it’s time for me to go. I’ve got my life and my house to tend to.

I don’t need my blood pressure continuing to creep up due to the constant bickering between my mom and stepdad or the outright battle to simply fix broken things around this place.

I’m going to have dinner with my sister to plan for the future, then I’m heading home.