Anonymous wrote:I'm the garage, wherein your DD will find all sorts of interesting items you ordered online that weren't what you'd thought they'd be, including:

• the 64-oz size of powdered coffee creamer you ordered for when your lactose-intolerant friend, George, stops by (you weren't expecting it to be so BIG!)

• what you thought was going to be a 12-pack of Pellegrino that was, in fact, 12 12-packs of Pellegrino ("that's a gross, dad, you ordered a gross of sparkling water")

• a restaurant supply size jug of chili flakes that "looked smaller in the photo"

• the extra four pairs of pajama pants that arrived because the "add to cart" button was indeed functioning properly and, it turns out, you didn't need to hit it several times to get it to work

• boxes and boxes of Swiffer cloths that you swear you have not been ordering but keep coming anyway, and your DD cannot solve the mystery of where you apparently subscribed to have them delivered regularly because your way of managing the hundreds of spam emails you get is by deleting all of your messages every few days or so

Same!!
The incessant need to delete all emails forces me to check his history to see where how and what he ordered. He forgets in minutes so things just appear on the doorstep. Nearly everything he orders is a scam and billing every 3 months subscription for ???
My favorite is the Amazon grocery orders. He buys individual containers of yogurt, paying tip and $15 delivery fee on each, instead of one weekly order. They build up on the porch, in the heat, because he forgets he ordered and that they are out there.
Meanwhile, I’m on food stamps because I had to cut my hours way back to take care of him.

I’m the grateful my parents and in-laws were always there for me and family and I look forward to helping them as needed.

I'm the garage, wherein your DD will find all sorts of interesting items you ordered online that weren't what you'd thought they'd be, including:

• the 64-oz size of powdered coffee creamer you ordered for when your lactose-intolerant friend, George, stops by (you weren't expecting it to be so BIG!)

• what you thought was going to be a 12-pack of Pellegrino that was, in fact, 12 12-packs of Pellegrino ("that's a gross, dad, you ordered a gross of sparkling water")

• a restaurant supply size jug of chili flakes that "looked smaller in the photo"

• the extra four pairs of pajama pants that arrived because the "add to cart" button was indeed functioning properly and, it turns out, you didn't need to hit it several times to get it to work

• boxes and boxes of Swiffer cloths that you swear you have not been ordering but keep coming anyway, and your DD cannot solve the mystery of where you apparently subscribed to have them delivered regularly because your way of managing the hundreds of spam emails you get is by deleting all of your messages every few days or so

I am stacks and stacks of books, more coming every day thanks to various free books sites my silent generation mom has a vess to. I will never be read, but I will cover nearly every surface, including a sitting chair and half of the bed. I am very, very heavy to pack up and remove. Sometimes, if I am written by Glen Beck or some other Fox news idiot, I wind up in the recycle bin. Oops.

Anonymous wrote:i'm the five sets of ancient dishware

I’m the not charged hearing aids

Anonymous wrote:I'm the Villages in Florida, and I am a hot bed of sin!

Do we need a new thread?

Anonymous wrote:I'm the casino!

😁😁😁

Anonymous wrote:I'm the dusty box with medals I got in Vietnam that none of my kids have interest in nor care about what they cost me. I'm the memory of marching in protest to try and change the world for the better only to be condemned, ridiculed and considered a burden as I entered my final years.

Do not toss those

I'm the alert you set to notify your DD by automated text if you use your cellphone to call 911 . . . which you have twice done accidentally very late at night, waking your DD and causing her much distress. Apparently you have not chosen your DS to receive my alerts, even though he lives much closer to you and can much more easily reach you if there were an actual emergency and not just another 911 buttdial.

Anonymous wrote:i'm the five sets of ancient dishware

if you're vintage Ginori, hmu

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I'm the lack of hearing coupled with the lack of gratitude!

Translated it means."I am tone deaf and ungrateful to my aging parents.'

She actually meant “I am tone deaf and ungrateful to my caretaker kids”

4:17 here. Sorry for the long rant. In the spirit of the thread:

I’m needing my daughter to use 100% of her PTO two years in a row flying out to support me in back-to-back knee replacement surgeries while I insist that I am independent and don’t need to think about additional support as I age.

Ugh my boomer mom completely refuses to plan for her current situation. She bought a huge house 45 minutes from a mid-tier city that’s 2 flights away from anywhere and it’s high in the mountains with a nightmare driveway. She has already missed doctor’s appointments because the roads between her and actual civilization were too dangerous to drive and delivery companies/uber refuse to come down the driveway, but she insists that it’s an excellent place to age-in-place because it’s ranch style! All one level!

She moved there 7 years ago with my now-dead stepdad. He was a nice man and a good husband but he has now been dead longer than they knew each other and she refuses to consider moving anywhere because “this is the house they chose together.”

When asked about the reality that she will need more help, she says her church will do it, which is probably true for a short-term, low-maintenance thing. But when we point out that she will eventually need either live-in help (in her precious home? Never!) or to move to a facility (worst case scenario. Absolutely never!) or to live close enough to one of us that we can come be her daily help (why don’t you move here? If you won’t move me into your own home then what help can you provide anyway?) she stonewalls a bit then starts crying and says she’d rather just slit her wrists than live like that.

I am so worried that she will have a bad fall or illness requiring major surgery and end up in a hospital who will only release her to a nursing home and she will be stuck in her worst case scenario anyway.

I am begging her to buy a vacation condo or house near me (she has plenty of money) that she could airbnb sometimes and come stay in a month or two a year. Then she could start to build community here and if she needs additional help it would be easier to convince her to move here more permanently but the only thing she really wants is to live with my brother except she hates his wife and they live overseas and she is afraid of brown people.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I am the Uber, the handy-man, the chef, and the personal shopper. I also have my own husband and children. I am exhausted.

do you have siblings?

Yes, 2, but neither live nearby. They moved close to me, their eldest daughter

Anonymous wrote:My boomer parents are in their mid 70s and they are great! My four kids love them especially when they get to do sleepovers. They already have a deposit down on a graduated care retirement place nearby so they won’t be a burden on us.

Same, only they are silent generation. That generation knew how to take care of themselves. If I am not going out one day I’m saying in my pajamas. They wouldn’t think of doing that. They are properly dressed for the day and their bed is made. My in-laws planned when he retired early, they sold their house for a condo (although three level huge). Then the moved to an apartment in assisted living. My mil eventually ended up in memory care after her husband died and died shortly after. I had always wished I could do something really important for them because they were such good people and always helped us financially while leaving an 8 figure inheritance.

I think they were the last generation who took responsibility for themselves. The posters complaining here need to remember that your children are watching you and will repeat the pattern and treat you the same way you treated your parents. Let your pettiness go