Happy New Year! Another year put to pasture, and a shiny, brand-spanking-new one is upon us. I always start the New Year with...not resolutions, but more like good intentions. The idea is that I will streamline and simplify my life. But this year I felt the need to look back at the past year and do a "Lessons Learned. "

Good Intention #1
No more checking in public to see if Dad needs to change his clothes.
I recently was at the grocery store with Dad. I kept smelling...something, but I didn't worry about. Then Dad told me he was cold. I looked at him, took a sniff and reached to the front of his pants to feel for dampness. When I heard the horrified gasp, I realized what I had done and that there was an audience.

Good Intention #2
Ensure snacks are at hand at all times.
I kept snacks for Dad near his chair in the living room. I have done this for years, but over the holidays I was not as attentive as I should have been. It seems that Dad was helping himself...but not to quality snacks. I realized there was an issue when I saw him with a handful of what appeared to be nuts. Knowing that we did not have nuts, I was curious and asked for one. Dry cat food. Yep, seems that through the container they look just like nuts.

Good Intention #3
Buy one brand and stick to it.
Once again, the "duh factor" rules [rolls her eyes]. It seems that Dad is finding it more and more difficult to read, so he orients himself by color. At one time I bought two kinds of yogurt. Who knew that would be a crisis? Well, it was. One had a blue top and the other a red top. How could both be the same if they looked different? Not wishing to push the issue, I bought all blue tops. Little did I know there was some sour cream and dip in the fridge with blue tops. You got it—he ate a container of sour cream and went back for the dip later. Now we buy RED-top yogurt and nothing else with a red top.

Good Intention # 4
Police Dad's bedroom.
I always believed that the "house rule" of no food in the bedroom would be followed by all, including Dad [smacks her forehead]. I truly expected someone with dementia who does not recognize his daughter could actually be taught the "no food in the bedroom" rule. How did I discover how ludicrous a concept that is? Simple—the sniff test. Yes, I went into his room, sniffed and wrinkled my nose. Houston, we have a problem: I started to change his sheets and hit a virtual buffet of sandwich parts, banana peels and cookie crumbs.

Good Intention # 5
Celebrate something everyday.
It doesn't have to be anything fancy. Even if it is just that the air smells good, or that my bathroom is clean, my loved one made me laugh, there is a beautiful bird eating at the feeder, whatever. Dumb it down, keep it simple. For me, it is getting to the heart of my life and what I hold dear.