Sauvignon Blanc

I don't even know where to begin.

So I'll begin with Dad pouring me a glass of wine. Remember, I don't drink. But, you know, there are moments when it just seems like the perfect thing to do. So I did.

Then Dad and I toasted each other, "Happy Holidays! Bon Vivre! Lacheim! A votre vivre!" All of those toasts. It had been a long day. Mom, in a downward turn of depression most of the day, had exhausted both of us, the Home Health aide, the housecleaner, AND the pedicurist. I was so verklempt I left to "run errands" and came back with ingredients to make turkey soup with the leftover turkey.

The soup was simmering as Dad and I clinked our glasses of sauvignon blanc. Then we started talking about Christmas and I reminded him that I was going to be gone for Christmas (I'm going to Birmingham December 22-28 to spend Christmas with my son, his wife, my first granddaughter, my nephew and his family, and my daughter. My first Christmas, except for one, away from my parents since I moved here.). Of course, Dad had forgotten that I was going. I expected that. So did he actually. I reminded him again, and he was fine with that.

But.......the trouble started because Mom overheard the conversation from the living room and instantly plummeted into a full-blown anxiety attack as soon as she heard that I was going to be gone for Christmas.

She yelled. She wailed. She whined. She complained. She even threw her glasses on the floor.

Here's the fundamental difference between my mom and my dad. When I reminded Dad that I was going to Birmingham to spend Christmas with family, his immediate response, "GREAT! I think that's wonderful that you're going to spend Christmas with everyone! "

Mom's response? Well, it was along the lines of, "I DON'T THINK THAT'S FAIR! SHE SHOULDN'T BE LEAVING US!"

About that time, still in the kitchen (resisting the urge to go into the living room and face my mother's wrath), I poured my second glass of Sauvignon Blanc. (Funny how it tasted even better the second time.) Dad wheeled into the living room to deal with Mom's tantrum.

Then Dad kind of ripped into Mom telling her, "I think that's very inconsiderate of you Patreesha. Denise deserves to have her own life. You should be happy that she's able to go spend Christmas with everyone." (Picture me toasting Dad, in the air, from the kitchen.)

But the real fun didn't start until Mom wheeled into the kitchen to "give me a piece of her mind." Now remember, I have two glasses of wine in me when she finally decides to come into the kitchen and pour out her wrath in my general direction. And remember.......I don't drink. Also remember, Mom has dementia in a really big way so it takes her.........a looooooong time to say anything. And most of the time, WHAT she is able to say, doesn't even make sense. Here's the gist of what she laid on me: She thought it was downright wrong of me to leave and if she and Dad couldn't go to Birmingham with me (a logistical impossibility--think of the bathroom issue), then I should stay home with them.

Then she tried the guilt trip, "I can't believe you would leave us like that."

Then she tried the super-guilt trip, "I'm going to commit suicide."

Let me just say........I'm not an advocate of "the drink." But it's amazing the assertiveness one gains after two glasses of wine.

So......to the guilt trip ploy I said, "Well Mom, I AM leaving, for five days. And you will be in splendid hands while I'm gone. And I will take lots of pictures of everyone and show you all of them when I get back. "

And......to the super-guilt trip ploy I said, "Really Mom? How exactly areya gonna do that? And even if you did Mom, then you'd miss seeing all the pictures of everyone that I'm going to bring back! Why would you wanna do that?!"

Then........I swear on a stack of bibles...........my mother who, just minutes previously had read me the riot act for having the gall to abandon her over Christmas, looked at me with her sunken eyes and overly-medicated stare and said, "What should Dad and I have for Christmas dinner?"

And I said, "Would you like to plan the Christmas dinner for you and Dad?"

And she said, "Yeeeeees."

And I said, "I think that would be lovely Mom. You can plan the dinner, I'll have it all ready for Dad to warm up, and you can spend a wonderful, romantic Christmas dinner with the man you have spent the last 65 years with. "

"67," she quickly corrected me.

"OK! Sixty-seven years then! Even better!" I said.

"I like that idea," she said.

"Me too," I said.........looking for my glass of wine.