Watching my 86-year-old mother has led me to the conclusion that habits do, indeed, die hard. I observe, to see if there are any hints of my own geriatric future.

What remains with her after all these years?

(1) Her morning beauty routine, which involves an intensive makeup applying session. I imagine that in her youth, this routine did not take the two full hours it takes now. I don’t have to worry about carrying this routine to my old age because I have never worn makeup a day in my life. Score!

It does amaze me, however, how insistent she is about getting fully decked out every day. To the quadruple nines, this woman! Spectacular outfits, shoes, earrings, jewelry, and aforementioned makeup. It exhausts me just watching her. I would be willing to spend that much time on a beauty routine only on days that I have been invited to a wedding, or the red carpet.

(2) Her need to be useful, to participate in the activities of the people around her. She wants to cook, and drive, and generally dictate the decisions of the day. But she is unable to do those things anymore. She will not give up trying, though, which leaves us in a literal Mexican standoff at least three times a day.

I can imagine being stubborn about continuing to be independent and useful until the day I die. I have been financially and physically and emotionally independent since I was 16. I cannot imagine giving up my daily decisions to anyone. Since I don’t have children, I guess I won’t have to. But what will become of me and my hardheadedness? Belgium, California, Kevorkian?

I’m not going to worry about that today. Today I have to make all the daily decisions and find a way to let her believe that she made them. It’s the only way I can think of to avoid a Mexican standoff.