Figuring it out.

For the first time since I've been living with my dad properly, I've had the opportunity to see if there is any chance at all for me to continue making cakes and keeping any kind of grip on the small business I have.  Although it took me twice...maybe three times as long to progress in one day compared to past efforts, I think it's safe to say that YES...as long as I know my limits then I can see no reason why not!  I can no longer get up with the lark and make a start as before.  My 'working' day will always be a late kick off, but if that's the only thing that's a nuisance then I think I can find something more challenging to whinge about.

I was awake very early this morning and couldn't get back into a sleep without having stupid dreams, so I made myself get up and have a cup of tea while catching up with celebrity gossip and contemplating the day ahead.  Dad had a good sleep, glad to be home in his own bed after being away for several days.  When he finally got up, I sprang into action so that I could get started in the kitchen as soon as possible.  I gave dad his medication and his breakfast, gave the kitchen it's usual forensic search so that it was safe to dash into the shower before he got off his chair to go fill the kettle or wash dishes in whatever he finds first in the cupboard under the sink.

I now keep the bleach awaaaaaay at the back of the cupboard!

I was washed and dressed quickly, hair scrambled up and pinned and no make-up to take up another bloody hour that I can't afford.  Now I had to get my dad washed, dressed and settled.

I put all his dirty clothes into the laundry basket that he had folded neatly and put in a pile at the bottom of his bed the night before.  I set out his fresh clothes...underwear into the bathroom and the rest on his bed.  I switched on the shower, put toothpaste onto his toothbrush and set that down next to the cold water tap.  If I didn't do this, he wouldn't brush his teeth at all.  If I simply asked him to brush his teeth, he would be able to locate the toothbrush but he would not put toothpaste on the brush and he would use the hot water tap to rinse.

Busying myself organising the shower gel and bits and pieces, I call on my dad to come and get ready.  As I've mentioned previously, the bathroom is right next to the front door which has frosted glass and is next to a clear glass window with vertical blinds which at that time in the morning are already half opened.  We live in an end house next to a lane where everyone walks with their bins to leave on the pavement out front on bin day.

Today was that day.

Today is the day my dad decided to strip off in the hall...at the front door...next to the plain glass window.

"DAD!" I shouted, once I'd finished my last bit of organising and emerged from the bathroom to see him stepping out of his pyjama trousers and bending down to pick them up...arse in the air!

"What?" he replied while carefully folding the trousers.  "You're right next to the window,"  I said.  "Someone will see you!"  "There's nobody there!" he exclaimed.  "There will be any second...it's bin day," I said.

He immediately stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

OH NO HE DI-INT!!!

He walked to the window, shook his bare arse and stated...with musical tones... "nah, nah, nah-nah, nah!"  He thought this was hilarious.

I'm changing my name tomorrow.

He was happy to sit in his usual chair with his feet up watching his detective series (multiple series) for the 'first' time.  I set myself up in the kitchen so that I could work and keep an eye on him at the same time.  I managed to time the little interludes, judging when I should put the kettle on for tea before he got up to try and 'help' with this task himself.  I kept him going with little snacks and only really stopped working to make lunch and dinner.  Every now and again he would call out to me, "How are you doing?" or "Are you alright in there?"  I kept taking bits and pieces of cake decoration to show him so that he wasn't sitting for too long just staring at the TV.  My accomplishments were greatly awarded with statements of  "that's beautiful!" or "that's amazing!"  When I showed him the cake itself with the side design half finished he asked me where the cake was going?  I told him that a customer was coming on Thursday to collect it.  He looked puzzled.  I asked him if he remembered when I had a cake shop in West Calder.  He didn't...but he said "no," almost incredulously.  I went on to tell him that I have travelled the world teaching my art to which he responded, "very good!" with a beaming smile.  I asked him if he remembered when I took him (I missed out 'and mum') to New Jersey and New York some years ago.  He said "aye!" in a 'don't be daft' tone...but I didn't react when he couldn't remember me teaching there.  I said, "who knows dad, we might go back again one day."

Maybe we will...who knows.

I need to finish the cake tomorrow...that's after my usual morning routine but with a hair wash for me and a little make-up if I have the time OR the energy.  I need to take dad to his Day Centre in the morning and go off to another solicitor appointment directly after.  Nothing is straightforward after my mother's death.  I absolutely hate paperwork of any kind and this ongoing shi...palaver is already doing my head in.  Dad will be back home at 2 p.m. and carry on with his telly, crisps and tea...enjoying a little cuddle with 'dug'.

One day I'll take myself off one day...on my own to a quiet place.  Nobody to think about, listen to or talk to.  Nothing but fresh air and planking!

There are good things ahead, I know it...but until I resolve a lot of 'other things' I cannot relax my head...or my heart.

Those ashes are always on my mind.

I'll figure it out.

One day.