I've just returned from a weeklong visit with my mother. It was highly successful. One day, in particular, stands out and that's the day I want to share with you.

As many of you already know, my mom is a special needs person. She's schizophrenic. What makes this condition extra insane is that she went off her meds about four years ago. *sigh*

Before I go to my sample day with my mother, I have to detour with some backstory: My mother has a new obsession, a game if you will. She clips coupons, any coupons. If she can get a good deal on Kingsford Charcoal, she'll buy it even though she doesn't own a BBQ grill. Fixadent? You bet! Though she still has her original set of choppers. Ground coffee? Another sure thing, though she doesn't have a coffee pot.

In all fairness to my mother, she uses most the stuff she buys, but has had to make some major palate-adjustments. Of no surprise, her neighbors think she's a Mormon because of the scope of her provisions. She's now storing the overflow in their refrigerators.

Everyday of my life has been an odd little adventure with my mom. The following is the sample day I want to share with you:

Monday, May 12, 2008
A Day in the Life of a Schizophrenic

1. About midmorning after we'd breakfast at a local restaurant, we went to her bank so she could exchange a roll of quarters for a $10 bill. Of course there is nothing weird about that except she had the quarters wrapped in scotch tape. The people at this bank were veryveryvery patient with my mother and treat her with the utmost respect.

2. Next we went to a local food bank. Now, now - don't get your panties all twisted in a knot. Remember the coupon fixation? Well, the local food bank falls into the same category - it's a game for her. I swear to you, it's like Christmas for her and each of the four sacks of groceries represents a stocking left by Santa. Mom gets all giggly and excited. There's no doubt my mother does not need this handout, but she's 81-years old for goodness sake, has dutifully paid her taxes for many years, and is having a ton of fun. BTW, she returns food she doesn't use.

3. After loading her free groceries, which at this point she still does not know what they've given her, we head for the local salon for manicures/pedicures. Does anyone besides me see the extreme irony in this?

4. Then Mom insisted we go to the adjacent CVS pharmacy. I told her I would wait for her and let my nails dry a bit longer, but she insisted I join her. So she lumbered to the adjacent CVS. I say lumbered because that's how mentally challenged people who weigh over 300 lbs. walk. My mother also has perpetual bed-head, which also seems symptomatic of mentally challenged folk. Her voice also booms in a baritone monotone, which also seems to be symptomatic. So... she boomed, "Irene I worry about you and can't be there to take care of you and you need some facial creams."

SCREECH

In my whole life that was the most singularly powerful moment with my mother. Schizophrenics don't have a whole lot of emotional range. Her laughter sounds canned and she seems incapable of being sad. Oh sure, she can express herself with sad or happy words, but they never sound genuine. Anyway, $120 later I had an arsenal of creams to iron out more wrinkles than a Chinese Shar-Pei.

That evening I wept. I had never really known she cared.

5. After we purchased the creams we dined on a sumptuous lunch, then napped before waddling out for another sumptuous dinner.

This was a good day. In a skewed way, most days are good with my mother, but that's because I'm desensitized to her unusual behavior. My idea of normal has always been misshapen because of her role model. It's gotten me into a peck of trouble at times because I often speak fast and blunt... But there were years of emotional torment for my sister and me. Years we hid the kitchen knives because we were frightened by her. There were years that my sister and I literally reared ourselves because our mother was incapable.

When I left my first marriage (I know - I'm such a loser), I went to a therapist to talk about my failed marriage. I saw him twice. Each time I started out by talking about my ex, but within minutes I'd turn my conversation to my relationship with my mother. My brilliant therapist finally stopped me and gently asked, "Irene, is there anyone else you would have rather had for a mother?" I looked at him as if he was nuts. I looked at him like he was loonier than me. I looked at him as though he was totally insane then said, "Of course not! She's my mother!" In that moment so much happened. Unconditional love for my mother took root and to this day continues to flourish.

I guess until this trip, I never realized she had the same kind of unconditional love for me.

Oh, and the reason I saw the therapist only twice? My first husband was not worth the time and effort. I took care of the important stuff... my mother.






Reenie (without make-up and before using the wrinkle creams) with her Mom