Hubzo and I rolled into town around 11:30 PM last night and promptly fell into bed. Mums was waiting -- true to form -- in her chair for us. Even the dog was conked out and refused to make any noise.
Mom is in better spirits. I haven't changed her dressing yet, but she says, per Deb, that the incision wounds look more "shallow". Believe me, that's good. Eeek.
I think back to one year today when mom was doing her mom thing to the enth degree as I flew away from my last day as a New Yorker to begin life in Colorado.
Let me tell you: when you need someone to organize a move, call mom (well, wait until she's better though!). She's the BEST. I had 28 boxes of kitchen stuff and books, two ginormous bags of clothes, a laptop and an apartment we rented over the phone. No furniture. No shampoo. No hubzo because he was closing out the job and our Brooklyn 'hood space.
That week, all I needed was my momma and my stress flew out the window. The apartment magically filled, I found a local pizza joint, we watched the best fireworks I've ever seen (yes, better than sitting in a loft above the East river with full view of the Macy's barges), she zonked out with Cole (the dog) on Thayne's sofa.
Matt (hubzo), a renowned cookie and chocolate junkie, awoke this morning in my old room and eagerly said "can we have cookies for breakfast?"
I laughed. You know why, too. Because there are always cookies in this house. Not today, though. She still isn't up to kitchen speed.
I think he and I will take the cookie reins today.