Thursday, March 19, 2009

What comes around...

When I was doing my clinicals in an Alzheimers assisted living center for my CNA a while ago, there was a woman (with Alzheimers) who screamed incessantly about her shoes hurting her feet.  So I would go in and pretend to stretch out her shoes, and then I'd reassure her that they would be much more comfortable now.  Or I'd switch them out for slippers or another pair of tennis shoes.  And for about 47 seconds she'd be fine, and then she'd start screaming again that they were squeezing her feet and someone needed to take them off immediately and why did everyone buy her shoes that were too small?  This went on all day long.  Every day.

I'm convinced that Amelia is that woman in child form.  Except it is not just her shoes, it is everything.  Everything.  Her ski helmet, her bike helmet, all jeans, the coat Madeline just outgrew, any pants or shirts that have texture or buttons of any kind, any elastics in her hair.  It is all soooo painful, how can she possibly be expected to survive with these things touching her body???  How? 
 
This morning she changed pants twice because the first pants felt "weird."  Then I did her hair, and she had a "headache" because it was too tight (it wasn't), but to stem the sobbing, I took it out and let her wear it down.  Then her ski coat (the only coat she likes) was still damp, so I asked her to wear a coat that Madeline just outgrew.  Guess what?  It touches her arms in an uncomfortable way.   And it's raining out, but she wouldn't wear her rain boots because they just aren't as comfortable as her Chucks.    To comfort me when she's rejected my gentle nudging to wear something that is barely worn, she says "Maybe I'll wear it tomorrow."

I know my mom thinks this is hilarious, because I am the same way and I tormented her with it for my entire childhood.   Really, the only two things different between Amelia and I are that I will occasionally sacrifice comfort for beauty, and I don't have my mom here forcing me to wear things that cause me excruciating pain every day.

5 comments:

Antonio said...

Emily's scalp must be made of nerve bundles, because when I brush her hair in the morning, she screams bloody murder. You would think I was brushing her hair with a dagger. And I'm not brushing in that passive aggressive way that some people brush because they're trying to get back at their kids for not being ready for school in time. I brush gently. And she screams.

The beach IS real life said...

You may have noticed in a few of our childhood photos some styling hairdos your mother and I had-the teeny tiny tight permed-do's. Do you know why we had those blackmail worthy fro's? Because your grandmother couldn't stand the screaming and crying that took place when ONE (not mentioning names) of her children got her hair done. It hurt. It was too tight. It gave her a headache. . . so oof with the ponytails! I had to get my hair cut to match hers. I think it's generational genetics. Good luck!

The beach IS real life said...

Or OFF with the ponytails! :D

Nan said...

If you had not posted the last paragraph...I was laughing all the way through your description...you must have been cursed with the parent curse...You're going to have one just like you some day...Your mom used to say, "Jami changes clothes at least 10 times a day because she can't find anything that looks good and is comfortable.

nickyfish said...

Classic! Reminds me of a comment my Tyler made the other day about my favorite of his coats that I bought in Germany and that he refused to wear because "it's too small and has cactuses in the arms." How can you make a kid wear a coat if it has a cactus in the arm? Oh well--some other lucky child will inherit the coat!