I know I’m fortunate to have the mother I do.
My entire life, I could tell my mom always wanted me. She would have cut off a limb if it meant it would improve my happiness – thankfully there’s never been a need for that type of amputation. But that feeling has been there; she wants me to be happy, to be healthy, to thrive, to live, to take every golden opportunity offered and not squander a thing.
We’ve always had a great relationship, but over the last few years things have changed. Parkinson’s has totally altered an easy mother-daughter relationship, reversing the roles we’ve played in our lives.
Now I need to help her walk, help her with her diaper, help her bathe, and dress, and eat. I listen to her babble, eagerly awaiting the brief moments of pure lucidity where I can follow her thoughts. We play a type of charades, a guessing game where I try to puzzle out what she might be attempting to convey.
Often when I call, on those wonderful, rare days of lucidity, she asks to go shopping. She begs me to rescue her from her monotonous prison, wheel her out the door and into the mall, ply her with new purses, shoes, tops, and more. Handbags she cannot hold, shoes she cannot walk in, silky tops that would slip through my fingers if I had to grab her as she falls. I cannot give her any of those things, and most every purchase is eventually returned to the store.
I get it. Shopping was once a big part of our lives. Some have criticized it of being materialistic, but Black Friday shopping was a family tradition with the women in my family. Waking at 5am, I’d go every year with my mom, aunt, grandmother, and best friend. We’d revel in the deals we scored, load the car with next season’s wardrobe, everyone’s holiday gifts, and a few extra goodies that brought us joy. Eventually my grandmother passed, my aunt stopped visiting, and my mom…it’s too much for her to handle. But I know she wishes she still could. As do I.
So when I thought about what to get her for Mother’s Day this year, I found myself at a crossroad. I knew she would love to get a present in the mail, and obviously that present should be clothes (as her love of shopping has become more intense since the Parkinson’s has affected her mind), but with her being housebound, the potential of hitting the mall on a regular basis is practically impossible.
That’s why I decided this year to get her a Gwynnie Bee subscription. Since she can’t easily leave the house without assistance and she loves to shop so much, receiving a regular package of fashionable goodies is bound to raise her spirits.
Right now they’re actually offering $10 off on any gifting bundles, so not only am I giving her something she’ll enjoy, I’ll actually save some money doing so.
I love my mom. There’s literally nothing in the world I could give her that would be equal to her care or love, and nothing can compensate for the suffering she experiences with Parkinson’s. There’s no perfect gift…the most I can possibly do is be present with her at all time. Appreciate each moment together, every conversation, every smile and laugh.
This post was sponsored by Gwynnie Bee, but all thoughts are my own.
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