Having Children later in life can be a blessing and a burden. It’s a blessing if you’ve been trying for a long time without success. The burden comes when you are so happy that it finally happens, and you treat the child the same way parents of an only child does. Spoiling them rotten and let them walk all over you for eighteen years. My mother had me at thirty two years old. Despite all advice to abort she gave me life. The consensus was that she was too old which made full term dangerous. She was in the prime of her life socially and otherwise, so I understand the burden I created being a rambunctious child getting into everything and trying to end my life with hijinks starting at two all the way to fourteen. I was a full time job. At this point in my life I look back and regret usurping her life the way I did with constant worries. All in all to the end I made her proud by making her last days the best they could be, with progressive Dementia all the way to full blown.
The thing that gets me most about kids are the way in which some of them grow up with a bastard like mentality, makes you wonder did they switched babies in the Hospital. You give them all the love and care, sometimes way past the time that they should still be living off you, and when you grow old and need them they turn their backs on you. Don’t these people know that there’s a God and that he sees all. Ok so you are not in tuned with your spirituality and you are not concerned. Well then my friend let me tell you about a thing called Karma, it’s alive and well, and one day when your world turns upside down with the trimmings of misfortune and old age, don’t ask why me. Penny was a resident in a Nursing Home where I worked, all through her youthful years while she built the family business to a fifty million dollars fortune, she rode the backs of the little people who were the life blood of the business success like a Witch on a Broom and Whip in her hand.
The bad part about this is that she never shed her Reptilian approach of how she treated people. She used to call the entire Staff Sons of Bitches of Bastards, needn’t I tell you how they reciprocated. One day while sitting in her Wheelchair in the Hallway she had an accident, the entire Hallway stunk to the high Heaven’s. Instead of changing her, the Aid she had just abused with venomous vulgarity wheeled her into her Room and closed the door for her to permeate in her own stench. Can you imagine being worth 50 million and to come to an end like that.
Her own children abandoned her. To the end they didn’t even visit her once a month, all the time waiting for her to die so they could spend her money. On the other hand I remembered all my mother had done and instilled in me, I visited her seven days a week, and spoiled her with tasteful food that she never got from the Nursing Home Cooks. I didn’t sit In the room and read a newspaper ignoring her like she was inanimate, I engaged her with meaningful conversation to keep the Dementia at bay. In the end I can only hope that someone remember all the good that I have done in my lifetime, and when I am sitting in a Nursing Home writing blogs once in a while brings me a Whopper.