Who would have thought the first thing I needed to pick up once dad came home was a baby monitor? Certainly not me. Turns out that my dad shared many similarities with babies & toddlers once he got home.

At first, dad was encouraged to walk around with a walker, but he hated it & refused to use it. He was determined to walk on his own, which resulted in us constantly worrying he was going to fall when we weren’t there. Hence the need for a baby monitor.

Of course, that only helped so much because he became an expert at sneaking around. If you have kids then you know just how stealthy they are at a very early age. When you roll over in the middle of the night & see two large eyes staring at you. Yeah, that’ll wake you up in a heartbeat! Dad got that good again. It was eerie honestly, because he was sooooo fucking loud whenever he moved around only a few weeks prior.

Or how about his inability to keep track of things? I swear he could hand you something one minute & then ask where you put that thing the next. Half the time he couldn’t even think of the right word so we “played” a lot of guessing games. The remote? Your water? Your phone? Peanut butter? Mom? What are you asking for? all became common questions. At some point, he lost the remote to the sound bar & was convinced we hid it from him so he couldn’t turn the volume up too high. We never did find it & I’m pretty confident he threw it away, by mistake of course, but it was gone nonetheless.

Another great comparison is the fact that my dad & babies could fall asleep ANYWHERE. Ok, that’s probably not the best comparison to make because I can fall asleep almost anywhere myself (thanks, Army), but my mama couldn’t so I’ll leave that one on the list.

How about when they say they need to go to the bathroom & they need to go NOW? Yeah, dad was the same way by that point. Eventually, he transitioned into diapers when he could no longer get out of bed. That was a tough day. That was a battle I wasn’t prepared to fight. How do you calmly & lovingly explain to your daddy that his body can no longer support his weight? How do you tell your daddy that he can’t get up, no matter how much he wants to? Mama & I explained it over & over, so did the nurses, but he wouldn’t listen. I can’t count the number of times we found him on the floor after he tried to get up on his own.

He needed constant supervision & we weren’t as prepared as we thought we were. They brought in longer bed rails, but he just learned how to silently slither down to the foot of the bed before trying to stand up. From that point forward, someone always had to be in the room because the baby monitor was no longer effective on its own. Mama started sleeping in the recliner by his bed, my son took over “Papa duty” every weekend that he was there, & I worked from the desk in my bedroom so I was available to cover breaks. Thanks to his shenanigans, we were always on call, always on edge, always listening, & always preparing for the worst.

Side note, my son is very literal. I did know that, but when you’re in the middle of adjusting to such a drastic change, you tend to forget the little things. “Papa duty” consisted of sitting in the big recliner & either watching TV with Papa or quietly playing on a tablet while he slept. I showed my son the baby monitor on the table beside the bed & told him to yell if Papa tried to get up. Let’s just say I almost got third degree burns from my coffee the first time he yelled for help because he picked up the monitor & yelled DIRECTLY into it. Talk about a shock on my end! I had also forgotten that the volume was on max. My ears were ringing as I ran down the stairs to stop him.

Can we talk about stubbornness? Granted, my daddy was stubborn long before he started hospice, but this was on another level. Also, I know stubborn because, simply put, I am stubborn. If this is any indication of the future, I truly feel for my kids when I get old.

What about their clothing choices? Have you ever let a toddler choose their outfit for the day? The resulting ensemble is typically a cross between questionable & amusing. My dad lived in his favorite flannel pajamas & then one day he just stopped wearing pants. The poor UPS driver who delivered his meds one day was greeted by my dad in his flannel PJ top & a diaper while leaning on his walker. That driver didn’t even blink, I fear he’s seen much worse over the years.

Have you ever noticed that everything takes longer to accomplish when you’re taking care of a baby, a toddler, or someone in home hospice? Your patience is tested on an hourly basis, sometimes minute to minute. Watching my daddy deteriorate both mentally and physically was devastating. I can’t even begin to imagine how much it affected my mama because I only saw it from my side, through my “glasses.” I worked, paid the bills, & took care of the house so that she could take care of him, with or without that damn baby monitor.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized, or admitted, that I wasn’t in the right mindset to care for him full time. If mama hadn’t stepped up, I don’t know what I would have done. I was bitter, angry, & still holding on to hurt from years in the past. I lacked the 24/7 compassion needed to care for the man who raised me. My mama was the angel my daddy needed in the end.

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