Where's My Purse?

My mom once told me that the first purse that she ever owned was red and had a picture of a cow.  She was five.

I don't know if that's actually when she became obsessed with having a purse with her at all times.  But they seemed to be a part of her when I was growing up.  Back then she had several purses – assorted shapes and colors.  I don’t know how often she changed them.  I know she went through many.

As a child, I don’t think I paid attention to the weight of mom’s purse, but as an adult, I realized she was often toting around the equivalence of a bowling ball – I kid you not.  And some of the heaviest purses were also the smallest ones that she owned.

Okay, maybe as a mom it does seem necessary to lug around an extra case of bandages, a pocket knife, a sewing kit, a comb, 40 pens (only two of them worked) , a fork, and even a hot dog – because you just never know.  Much of the weight was due to the pound and a half of keys that she carried, not to mention the twenty dollars worth of tips usually all in quarters and pennies.

 

A heavy purse that constantly gained weight – at a rather rapid rate.  Many purses became garbage due to the overloaded abuse of items.  And then she would go through her closet to retrieve one she hadn’t used in a while – do a thorough cleaning as she transferred over and gradually add weight to it all over again.

There are a few posts on my blog in which I refer to mom and Alice, the only two residents that always have her purse in hand.  I would think that mom could give it up by now.  But it’s a part of her.  But she might as well just tote around a bowling bag – seriously.  Why in the world would it need to be that heavy at assisted living?  She doesn’t have/need keys or change anymore.  This afternoon I learned that my mom is a kleptomaniac (one of the stages of her dementia)
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As she was asleep at the hospital, I decided it would be a good time to clean out her purse. I found a large set of keys.  I knew they weren't hers.  There was a door stop and one of Harold’s picks (which the aide on duty says he never uses anyway – well, yeah – if it’s in mom’s purse I don’t imagine he does have opportunity to use it) a DVD of Fiddler on the Roof (amazingly not broken or scratched) 4 tubes of lipstick, an unused tube of toothpaste (still in the box) four latex gloves, monthly newsletters, the pictures that she had removed when she moved in (three of them bent) one toy maraca, I think a whistle, three coin purses, two pairs of glasses, three plastic spoons (one was wrapped) 4 packages of tissue – not to mention all the many wadded up tissues that were in each compartment, two scarves (one was a long one for winter), the cell phone we had disconnected before she went into assisted living and several barrettes, 


 




It turns out the keys belonged to one of the sisters who comes to helps out with the Relief Society activity that is offered to the residence once a month.  I remember she had the cell phone that belonged to maintenance for abut three days.  I turned that in too.  Oh, mom!