Monkey in the Middle

I am officially about to become the monkey in the middle. Of my parents.

What kind of monkey should I become? A big old gorilla that just sits and scratches? Or perhaps a chimpanzee that flies all around, swinging from branch to branch, or one of those really cute spider monkeys that just perches aloft a high branch and surveys? How do you think any of those would look with a pink crown? I swear, someone is going to commit me...

My mom needs to be near medical care. My dad refuses to leave NYC. My mom is bored in NYC (go figure...) and my dad has gotten out of his slump to decide that he wants and needs to spend what is likely the last ten years of his life painting, something my mom has never quite appreciated or affirmed. Each one is saying things about the other like a bunch of cranky sixth grade girls...oy vey.

I am getting it from both sides, and not liking any of it much. Just much more affirmation that getting totally connected with Howie is the highest priority for me, him, our future and our family.

So tonight I drive right into the eye of the storm. To escape the literal eye of the storm coming my way, (lots of snow and yuck) I am driving to NYC tonight to attend a black tie affair with my dad tomorrow night. I am taking Nicole and we are going to meet Carolyn in the city and have some fun prior to the shindig. Maybe they can hash out a little. Who knows. I imagine what is probably going to happen is my mom will limp along, he will complain about wanting to paint and not remind her of what she just forgot, and something bad will happen to one of them and I will need to manage it from three hours away. I told my mom that if she wanted to stay in the city (that she only likes if she isn't there) is line up her medical care there; she needs to have care there. She says no way. Her care is here. So I told her she needs to be closer then. She says no way. (Yes, there is a pattern). And I have a feeling my dad would say, by all means take her, I will stay her and paint, she thinks my art is an ego trip anyway. She says no way, he can't function without her.

I need my magic wand. Welcome to my sandwich.