At 83, my mother is still full of surprises, like when she chuckles and says, “She should do what I did—find the best-looking teacher she can!” I remind her that my daughter is only 13, and that’s not exactly the most responsible advice coming from a grandmother. We both share a laugh as she reminisces about her own lessons taken ages ago, all while raising six kids as a stay-at-home mom. Alzheimer’s has taken her memory but not her sense of humor; she often drifts through time when I call her at the assisted-living facility.
Our connection has deepened since I became a stay-at-home dad and started writing about parenting with a humorous twist. Our phone chats have turned into a delightful sitcom of sorts, blending our experiences across generations. Recently, I became curious about a book my mother always adored: Erma Bombeck’s If Life is a Bowl of Cherries—What Am I Doing in the Pits?
From the very first line, it was clear why my mom related to Bombeck, who writes, “I’ve always worried a lot and frankly I’m good at it.” Bombeck humorously frets about the possibility of lettuce being fattening, but she gets to the heart of the matter: “But mostly, I worry about surviving… That’s what this book is all about.” My mother has used humor to navigate her own challenges—raising six kids, going through a divorce, dealing with macular degeneration, and now facing the onset of Alzheimer’s. I found myself getting choked up as I read.
The book unfolds in charming vignettes, some of which feel timeless, even decades after their original publication. Bombeck’s advice on mundane tasks like “Replacing a Toilet Tissue Spindle” and “Closing a Door” continues to resonate today. Her insights, like “There, but for the grace of a babysitter go I,” and “Some say giving children responsibility helps them grow; others think it just raises your insurance rates,” are as relevant as ever.
However, as I continued reading, I hit a more somber note in a section titled “When Did I Become the Mother and the Mother Become the Child?” Bombeck writes about the gradual transfer of responsibility as mothers become more childlike, a poignant transition. It felt as though my mother was speaking to me through those words, blending humor with the bittersweet reality of her Alzheimer’s journey.
Indeed, Alzheimer’s has begun to steal away more than just her words. My siblings and I grapple with forgotten family birthdays. Should we remind her of our own birthdays when she forgets them? Do we risk causing her guilt or do we let it slide? I’ve opted for the latter, but it still feels inadequate.
Yet, there’s a silver lining. In her clearer moments, my mom has shared that her short-term memory loss has freed her from worry, allowing her to enjoy laughter more. She sees it as a “gift” to be “suspended in time,” free from the pressure of remembering. These moments of liberation—where worry and memory constraints fade away—are the cherries still present in her life.
Bombeck teaches us that even in the twilight years, the cherries remain; we just need to dig a bit deeper for them. Sharing her beloved book with my mother has created a unique bond. As I read her favorite passages over the phone, sometimes she’s reminded of her first impressions; other times, her changing mind processes them anew. Regardless, we share a delightful, intimate experience—one of the sweetest fruits of our connection.
For those navigating their own journeys of parenthood or caring for loved ones, resources like March of Dimes can be incredibly helpful. And if you’re looking into home insemination, check out Make A Mom for expert advice. You can also explore more about personal journeys at Intracervical Insemination.
In summary, finding humor and connection can be a profound way to cope with life’s challenges, especially when dealing with Alzheimer’s. Through shared laughter, beloved books, and understanding, we can still find the cherries in the bowl.