Dear Mom

I'm home. *sigh* I flew back to The Sunshine State on Tuesday because it was the only day I could get a ride to the airport in Boston.

I managed to take care of Mom and be pretty much housebound by the rain and her needs for 17 days without a major meltdown (by me).

Here are a few memos to Mom:

Dear Mom:
Who told you this was a 2 week recovery? We all heard 6 to 8 weeks. Patience, woman. Patience.
Dear Mom:
Cleaning the house at 10:30 pm, the day before your housecleaner comes is crazy and I refuse to participate. She knows you had surgery. She knows you aren't a slob. I don't care if you cry. I'm already in bed for the night.
Dear Mom:
Okay, if it will prevent you from having an anxiety attack, I will clean the garage.
Dear Mom:
I threw away the tube of cortisone cream that expired in 1981. 
Dear Mom:
These kitchen towels have been here since 1962. You have a drawer with 8 new kitchen towels that still have price tags. Explain.
Dear Mom:
No, I don't think you're a hoarder, you just keep stuff WAY beyond it's expiration date.
Dear Mom:
I'm diabetic. So are you. It's NOT okay to eat cookies every day. You can cheat all you want, but don't try to make me feel guilty for not cheating with you.
Dear Mom:
I put 3 ice cubes in your tea. Not 2. Not 4. Yes, I DID just call you a fusspot!
Dear Mom:
If you have to wear jeans and a fleece jacket and wrap up in a blanket, it's TOO COLD to sit on the deck. I'll be in the house. Wrapped up in jeans, a fleece jacket and a blanket.
Dear Mom:
Surgery complications SUCK. I'm sorry you are going through all these setbacks. I can come back in a couple of weeks.
Dear Mom:
If you INSIST on walking down the steep driveway, BRING YOUR CELL PHONE, BRING YOUR CELL PHONE, BRING YOUR CELL PHONE.  I'm almost certain that you'll tumble into the street and need to call someone for help.
Dear Mom:
I'm only a phone call and a 3 hour plane ride away. I love you.