Moving my mother from a small assisted living facility to an even smaller board and care home has turned out to be a very good decision. Mom seems more relaxed and calm in her new environment. I was hoping for that result, as often a smaller more confined environment provides dementia sufferers an easier world to navigate. In her new house, it allows mom to find her bedroom by herself and the backyard sitting area, where mom loves to lounge on her chaise and bake in the sun. She seems more relaxed and comfortable.

As a result, most days she is all smiles when she sees me and that was the case yesterday morning when I stopped to visit her on my way to meet a client. She held my hand as we walked to her room and she kept squeezing it and saying she was so glad to see me again! I never tell mom I had just seen her the previous day, but instead agree that it is great to be with her too.

While we sat in her room and listened to an old country music station, mom pointed to a picture of herself and my dad on the wall and asked over and over who those two people were. I reminded mom it was a picture of her and my father, her husband Pat, when they were younger. She would smile and say, “Oh wow, we were good looking!” and then we would laugh.

It was cute but tiring, after the fifth time of this looped conversation, so I pointed to the four baby pictures of her children on the adjacent wall and said “And look, there are baby pictures of all your children”. As predicted she smiled and commented on how cute they all were and then zeroed in on the one of me and asked, “Who is that darling baby there?” Being pathetically pleased that my photograph was singled out for extra special attention, I replied, “That is me mom! Your daughter Monica, your favorite!”

Now I should pause to point out that growing up my siblings and I did not have competition for attention from either my mom or my dad. I feel confident to speak for them when I say I think we all felt equally loved and considered. The remarks about being the favorite really only started with my mother and her dementia. Because my mom is easy to laughter, it is a way to playfully tease her and see where her cognition is that day, to see if she gets the joke.

This tactic can famously fail as it did two weeks ago when I tried the same joke. She had asked me how Monica was doing because she hadn’t seen her in such a long time. I said, “Mom, I am Monica! I am your favorite daughter, remember?” She looked straight at me and remarked, “Well if she wants to stay that way then maybe she should come see me sometime!”

It’s a wonder I didn’t learn my lesson that day, as when I tried the same tactic yesterday I flamed out spectacularly once again. When I replied to her question about the photograph of me with, “That is me mom! Your daughter Monica, your favorite!” she turned and looked at me for a long beat and then said dryly, “No, not really” and then we both laughed again.

Either she has a much better memory than I give her credit for or I need some new material!