2002-08-19 � The House Sitter

For the past week or so, my mother has been housesitting for my Aunt Mary Jo. Now, hold on because this gets a little complicated and I want you to get a bit of the family dynamic so the pay off at the end, well pays off.

Now my Aunt Mary Jo is my father's sister. She owns a two family house in Northern New Jersey (about 2 hours from where I live now). My cousin Denise, her husband and their two small children live in the second family unit. This is helpful for babysitting and such. On my Aunt's side, she lives with her husband, my grandma, and on occasion one of her other daughters who is going through a separation crashes in the living room with her two kids.

Last week my Aunt and Uncle, as well as my cousin Denise and her family rented a house at the shore and took a week at the beach. My cousin Doreen, the separated one, was not staying at the house. My mother was asked to come in for a week primarily to take care of my grandma, her mother-in-law, because she is too old to be on her own.

A bit about my grandma. She's 89, a little hard of hearing, a little blind, and now claims to be having trouble with her knees, though we've yet to have a doctor confirm this so we're dubious about that knee bit.

About 45 years ago my grandma suffered such extreme relationship problems that she divorced my grandpa in a time when divorce was not only unfashionable, but also so disadvantaged women many or all remained in terrible marriages because it was better than the alternative.

Being placed in this difficult position served to make my grandma bitter and mean. Since that time, her children have supported her and she has made little or no effort to support herself, much less thank them for their efforts. She behaves as if her support is their duty and because she believes they wouldn't dare put her away, she sees no need for the common graces many of us take for granted.

Additionally, she has no hobbys, no interests except televised baseball, and no friends, so she never, ever leaves the house and never, ever assists in the functioning of the household. When she puts her dirty dish in the sink, she has done you a favor, and soon enough she comes to collect repayment. She's amazing.

I guess the best term to describe my grandma is "Evil Battleaxe of Doom."

Additionally, she's mastered the art of picking on people at such minor levels that when you complain about her behavior you sound like you're very petty. But when someone ceaselessly throws irritating little jabs at you pretty soon each jab begins to feel like a body blow. She lived with us for seven years when I was growing up, so I know this is the way she is and I know what she's doing to my Aunt.

At this point, I'd like to answer a few of the questions you will undoubtedly pose once you read what follows. First, I have no idea why she isn't in a nursing home. If it were my decision, she'd be there already. Second, I'm not making this up and everything in this entry is accurate and true despite the motto of sooner.diaryland.com "it's all lies." This isn't.

Ok. Now that you have the necessary background, we pick up our story in the thick of things. That's right. In medias res because it's that epic.

"See, at that point I hadn't yet realized exactly what she'd done. I thought it may have been an accident, so I started to pound on the door and yell her name. I was trying to get her attention." My mom took a moment and shifted in her seat. She was clearly reliving the event as she started to get a little more animated and perhaps the tiniest bit angry.

Denise brought her a glass of water and continued cleaning the vegetables for the soup. "Aunt Sandy, are you telling me it was on purpose?" she asked.

"Oh, honey. There's no question."

I was listening intently, not entirely sure what to say so I asked her what happened next.

"Well," my mother continued, "I went around to the front door, the door closest to where she parks all day."

"The one with the open windows near by?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's the one. I pounded on the front door this time, still yelling for her attention."

"Well, she's hard of hearing. Maybe she didn't hear you."

"Denise, I could see her through the window. She never acknowledged me, she just stared at the television. And I might be wrong, but I think I saw the slightest hint of a smile on her face. And on top of that, your neighbors, the Grants, came out on their front porch to see what was going on. I was loud enough to make a spectacle of myself and catch the neighbor's attention. So I know she heard me."

"Oh," I said. "How did you get back in?"

"Well, the next thing I did was come back into your side, and I got right up against that common wall, the wall she rests her head on when she leans back in the sofa and I started to beat on the wall and yell her name. And I don't mind telling you that by that point I was really, really mad. It was 98 degrees outside at about three in the afternoon. And the neighbors were staring at me. So just imagine."

My mother sipped her water and took a deep breath. "After about ten minutes of that, I went back around to the back door, and I thought I'll just try it one more time. Do you know that it was unlocked? Poof! Magic! Unlocked."

"Unbelievable." Denise shook her head.

"So I marched straight up to her and I put my finger in her face and I told her that if she ever locked me out again I'd leave. I told her I was furious and she had better not ever pull that crap with me again."

"So what did she say?" I asked.

"She said, 'well I didn't do it! You must have locked yourself out!' And I guess I used the power of my mind to unlock the door too. She lied to me and wanted to fight about it. I told her I wasn't going to talk to her for a while and I jumped in the car and went straight for the post office. I'd had it."

"Aunt Sandy, I'm so sorry that happened to you. But she's begun to do a lot of bizarre stuff. Last week, after my father had left for work, she went into the bathroom and urinated on the rug. Mom said it was soaked. When mom asked her about it, she blamed it on my father. I thought my mother was going to lose her mind."

"Well," siad mom, "I guess I should count my blessings, then."

It's clear to me that the battle lines have been drawn. My grandma has become so meglomaniacal that she is pushing the limits of my Aunt's sanity, the whole while thumbing her nose at her children who have not yet committed her, even though she's foul enough to make the decision an easy one. So far my grandma is clearly in the lead as my Aunt is showing signs of wear, and is more prone than ever to tears.

Oh, dear reader. As the situation becomes more volitle, as the antics become more vulgar, as the devolution continues, you'd better believe I'll keep you posted.

Posted at 5:20 p.m.

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