Got to put on my big boy pants today. Therapist day for my mom. Ugh. The bathing part is a plus all around, but the physical therapist is a tad overenthusiastic. But I like him as a person. (He says our house has good energy. Makes me laugh.) Will have to rein him in a bit. He pushes my mom to the point she gets near to fainting. On a related note: Can't seem to convince my mom of her desperate need to drink water and her physical self suffers for it. Can't do the therapy because her b/p nosedives. She just digs in her heels. Actually lies about the water and her tall cup tells the tale. Oh my.
And late yesterday, after a nap, she got to feeling better and began showering me with questions. What's her bank balance? What do I think of using her burial policy to pay on her mortgage? Do you want my Presto cooker? On and on she went. Talking without periods makes me a bit mental.
'Yes, your Social Security got deposited. Don't know about the insurance. Might need an official Will to do that. I think your pressure cooker needs a new gasket.'
Then she goes on in depth about stuff, like she's been wound up.
Stop. Just stop.
And when I get her up in the morning. My gracious. I'm basically silent when I wake up. She's rarin' to go. Yakyakyak.
I should be thankful when she's so chatty because it's a sign she's feeling good, but I'd rather just put her in her room and shut the door. That's what her cell phone is for. Talk away.
I have a life separate from her. I think. Actually, I'm going to tweak my crocheting skills this weekend and make a few dishclothes to prepare me for making two baby blankets. I've done crochet in the past, but am way rusty.
Babies. A glorious distraction.