It started with having to take my mum to the hospital on Christmas eve, because her GP was concerned about mum's blood test results. We spent all day in there.
The red-bearded Irish doctor told me my mum was cute and even went as far as asking the nearest Cantonese-speaking doctor to tell her in her own language. One day I must remind mum that "I love you" is not what you say when you want to tell someone that you think they have a nice bedside manner.
Afterwards I returned her to my brother's house, where she'd been staying. As I left, my sister-out-law said a few words about Christmas lunch - I could have sworn she said that we should turn up any time after 2pm.
On Christmas morning, we opened our presents and covered the entire lounge floor with discarded wrapping paper. The boy seemed very pleased with his manly jewellery box.
It turned out I was quite mistaken about the start time for Christmas lunch....and we'll just leave it at that...
At least, I thought, this would be one Christmas lunch when my mum won't nag us to take her home right after we've eaten, because she is already at home (albeit a temporary one). Wrong again - as soon as we'd eaten and finished shared desserts, she was nagging us to pack up her stuff and transport her away. I left my brother to sort it out, as mum doesn't listen to me anyway (I'm just her daughter).
Today my mum has been back at her home for two days, with my brother and I taking turns at 3 visits per day (which is what her home service package will be when it starts on 5 Jan). She has already rejected all three pieces of disability equipment, including the walking frame which had initially been indispensable. There is, as they say, life in the old bird yet.
I leave you with a photo of the hand made fridge magnets I told you about in an earlier post. Pretty, no?