Dishes

Dishes ... who likes to do dishes? I see that hand, Pop.

Daddy loooooooooves doing dishes. But I won't let him. "Why," you say? Because his idea of washing dishes is running some hot water over them and then into the drying rack. That's it. No soap, no washing, it's just rinse and then into the rack. After my mother passed away, before he had dementia I had many a lunch at his house. Now that I understand his idea of clean, I have wondered how many dirty dishes and utensils I have eaten from without knowing it?

Before I became wise to his dish washing practices I occasionally let him do the washing. I couldn't figure out why I kept finding dingy looking glasses in my cupboards and silverware that still had food stuck to them. Once I realized the problem, pop was banned from the sink and handed a dish towel. He seems to have accepted his demotion and doesn't often ask to wash anymore.

Most of the dirty dishes go into the dishwasher, which he hates because that means he will have to wait to do the drying. He's been seen standing in front of the dishwasher with towel in hand waiting for the machine to finish it's lengthy cycle so he can dry its contents. The ones that do not go into the dish washer I wash by hand and yeah!!!! pop gets to dry them on the spot. What fun! And when we are done I usually announce, "Well I guess that's it for now, pop" And he says, "Oh. Are we done already?"

Drying dry dishes is not uncommon either. Sometimes I will suggest that he dry the dishes that have been sitting in the drying rack and have already air dried. The goal is not so much drying dishes as it is giving him something to do. Grabbing the towel with a flourish he stuffs the towel deep into the dry drinking glasses or dry mugs, all the way to the bottom twisting and turning making sure every “drop” is thoroughly removed. The dry plates are carefully wiped down to make sure there is no chance of any drips or streaks. Once the dry dishes are dry, he attempts to put them into their appropriate cupboards often requiring me to relocate them to their more appropriate cupboards.

Always after he starts his drying task the question comes, "And where do I put these when they are dry?" I used to tell him to put them on the island so I could put them away to be sure they got to their proper place. He didn't seem to be satisfied with that though seeming to want to finish the task fully by putting them in their proper place. Perhaps to prove to himself that he can still figure out how to bring a job to closure he wants to put them up. Or perhaps because he wants to prolong the process. I don't know. But anyway, I have started letting him figure out where they belong.

Sometimes I will leave the room listening to the clink of the glass ware. From the living room I can see him moving around at one end of the kitchen. Opening the doors I watched him observing spices, oils, sugar and flour but no plates, cups or glasses. Getting up I go into the kitchen and opened the cupboard doors so he can see the two appropriate options; the drinking glass/cup cupboard and the dishes/bowls cupboard and I turned him lose to just let him have a blast!

If I decide, as I occasionally do, that after preparing the evening meal I'd rather leave the dishes until morning ... heaven forbid! My mother left behind a wonderful spy to make sure that her daughter never got away with such a sin. I have observed him after the evening meal fingering the mess that I have put on hold and then turning to me ask, "Can I do these dishes for you?" I know he and my mom have a conspiracy going on from across the grave because every time those 7 little words are uttered what power they have over me. As ill equipped as he is mentally at this stage in life it is amazing to me how much power he still has sway over me. Before I know it I'm up to my elbows in sudsy water. "Here pop. Here's the dish towel. I'll wash. You dry." He wins again.