The thing about having a mentally ill mom is that it’s not always sad.  At times it can be outrageous, and sometimes it can be hilarious.

Like that time she ran down the street after a group of kids with a World War 2 sword waved above her head.  Or that time when she dressed up for Halloween and almost got arrested for looking like an ACTUAL homeless person.

Or that time when I didn’t know my mom’s name.

It happened a few years back when I went to visit my mother, who lives in a nursing home, for mother’s day.  We showed up as a family, the husband, kids and I.  As I waked in, I carried a large hanging basket that seemed to bring a normalcy to the day.

We walk in to the front desk with flower basket in hand.  The man behind the desk asks who we were there to see.

“Mary Stott*”

The man grabs the clipboard and scans down the patient list.  He flips to the next page, scans more and then says

“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name.”

Oh.  I adjust the flower basket to the other hand.

I stood there for a moment and thought.  I had given the name my mom went by when she was married to my dad.   I then remembered she had talked about changing it back to her maiden name after they divorced.  I should try that name.

“Oh, I think it’s actually Mary Goodwin.”

Man grabs clipboard, scans the 2 pages and again says

“No, there’s no one here by that name either.  Are you sure she lives here, what’s your relation to her?”

I think I let out a nervous laugh because awkward, party of 10.

“Yes, I know she lives here.”

I put the flower basket down.

I look at my husband who looks at me because neither of us even know what to do.

For a brief moment I was horrified, how could I not know her name?  I mean, have I lost my mind?

I look to my husband for some sort of resolution since the man at the desk surely was not going to let 4 people wander the halls with a flower basket calling out random names;

“Mary Smith… you in there? “

“Mary Churchill…can you hear me?”

The man behind the desk sees our state of bewilderment hands me the clipboard and says

“Here, if you can find her name on here, let me know.”

For a brief moment I thought about what this man must be thinking.  But then I thought, hell, this is a facility for mentally ill, the fact that I’m standing here with a flower basket has got to be the least interesting thing he saw all day.

I take the clipboard and search for all “Mary’s” on the list because surely her first name is the same no matter how many personalities are going on currently right?

Right??

I quickly scan and see it.  Mary Navarro.

And then I remember….a month before my own wedding (15 years prior) my mother got married for the 3^rd time.  As far as I know, no one has met this person, they never even lived together and yet she had his surname.  It was rumored that the only reason they were married was for him to stay in the country and there was a monetary exchange.  Who could forget that?  //sarcasm//

I point to the name on the clipboard, let out a chuckle, and say “This is her.”

The man marks down on the sheet and lets us in.   We had our visit, gave her the flower basket, and when we left, I knew her name.

*All names have been changed, and not because I don’t know the real ones.

Ok, maybe it’s a little because of that.