Whitty
My mother’s nickname in high school was Whitty. I thought it was because her maiden name was Whitford but I soon discovered differently. My husband, Juan, loves to tease and make people laugh, often at their expense, and when he’s in the groove he can be relentless. I used to feel hurt by Juan’s teasing but in Latino cultures, the ones you love most are the ones you tease most, so in some distorted way it is a compliment to be scythed down by someone’s humor. After twelve years of forced practice, I pout less, fling back zingers more, and relish the fun.
When Mom moved in I was understandably concerned and asked Juan to tone it down so he would not annihilate her. But I was so wrong. As soon as Juan opened the door of irreverence, Mom bounded in with glee. I had no idea she was capable! When I was growing up Mom didn't ever act like that. But now I am witnessing her happily engage in verbal volleying with Juan and return each volley with her own curveball on it. Whenever Mom slices a particularly good one-liner back at Juan she looks over at me with an impish grin while her entire body shakes up and down, her quiet way of laughing.
Before launching an attack, Juan makes the playing field safe by telling Mom he loves her, which makes Mom feel seen and acknowledged as a capable contender. Then Juan fires his first volley. And what I see in Mom then is sheer joy, the lofty freedom that accompanies irreverence and leaves a person open to breathe the fresh air of honest, loving humor. I am delighted for Mom and feel privileged to discover this part of her essence. Witnessing it firsthand emboldens me, lubricating and warming whatever amount of irreverence runs through my veins.
Is it true that Mom wasn’t funny while I was growing up or am I perspective-challenged? I remember Mom working hard on everyone's behalf, too eager to please – the good girl her culture expected her to be. I don't remember any humor. It seems tragic that Mom left Whitty, her namesake, behind until now when her mind is leaving her behind.
Had Mom not moved in with us and had I married a boring dolt, she would never have experienced this joy and her children would never have known how funny she is. Sadly, as Mom’s dementia progresses she is more sensitive and she doesn’t come out to play with Juan as much. Some days she even thinks he is mean because of things he says, things that once made her smile and step up to the challenge. Now Juan tiptoes around her, testing her smile quotient and on those rare days when Whitty is still home, Juan and Mom go at it smiling.
http://bigguys.zenfolio.com/p786714363
When Mom moved in I was understandably concerned and asked Juan to tone it down so he would not annihilate her. But I was so wrong. As soon as Juan opened the door of irreverence, Mom bounded in with glee. I had no idea she was capable! When I was growing up Mom didn't ever act like that. But now I am witnessing her happily engage in verbal volleying with Juan and return each volley with her own curveball on it. Whenever Mom slices a particularly good one-liner back at Juan she looks over at me with an impish grin while her entire body shakes up and down, her quiet way of laughing.
Before launching an attack, Juan makes the playing field safe by telling Mom he loves her, which makes Mom feel seen and acknowledged as a capable contender. Then Juan fires his first volley. And what I see in Mom then is sheer joy, the lofty freedom that accompanies irreverence and leaves a person open to breathe the fresh air of honest, loving humor. I am delighted for Mom and feel privileged to discover this part of her essence. Witnessing it firsthand emboldens me, lubricating and warming whatever amount of irreverence runs through my veins.
Is it true that Mom wasn’t funny while I was growing up or am I perspective-challenged? I remember Mom working hard on everyone's behalf, too eager to please – the good girl her culture expected her to be. I don't remember any humor. It seems tragic that Mom left Whitty, her namesake, behind until now when her mind is leaving her behind.
Had Mom not moved in with us and had I married a boring dolt, she would never have experienced this joy and her children would never have known how funny she is. Sadly, as Mom’s dementia progresses she is more sensitive and she doesn’t come out to play with Juan as much. Some days she even thinks he is mean because of things he says, things that once made her smile and step up to the challenge. Now Juan tiptoes around her, testing her smile quotient and on those rare days when Whitty is still home, Juan and Mom go at it smiling.
http://bigguys.zenfolio.com/p786714363