I find myself slowly becoming more like a parent than a child to my parent.
It's strange....however it's a duty I don't take lightly.
(Probably exactly how he felt when he gained the responsibility of a child)
At least with a child you can hit em... (oh my gawd, I'm only kidding) and tell them to shut up (wink)
I found myself trying to help my dad's green beans taste better with my words..."eat them, they are good for you"...
And trying to talk him into wearing clothes that are not his usual duds... "you will just L-O-V-E sweat pants, they feel just like pajamas..."
"but I don't wear, or even like pajamas" he counters
"but you would if you tried them".... (pretty pretty pleeeze try on the sweatpants) I coax
(put the damn pants on before I paddle your ass)
"Don't tip your drink like that or it is going to spill on your front"...
"and then you'll be wet and cold"
I move his orange juice to the side so he doesn't tip it over with his arm.
"Here, let me sit you up a bit, you don't look comfortable"
I feel his forehead and his arms, he feels a bit cool.
"are you warm enough? do you want some more blankets...?"
He's trying to be patient with me... but I can see I'm beginning to aggravate him.
I'm sad to leave him and I worry about him through my mostly sleepless night.
I called and checked on him around midnight..
"who shall I say called?" the nurse asks
"just tell him Mother Hen called" I answer.
(ps...to those reading who may worry or wonder... my pops had an operation to help with an issue he's been suffering from for a long time, he is doing well and we expect a full recovery....a recovery which will more than likely bring about a big azz kicking...HIM kicking MINE for trying to push him around and tell him what to do when he was down...)