Mother is walking in her sleep.  Today she said something about not thinking she had moved a muscle all night, and I told her that she had gotten up in the night and gotten a cough drop.  She had absolutely no recollection of it.  It makes me wonder what she does in her apartment with no one is there to see.   She is a little freaked by it as well.  It’s probably the freakin’ Ambien.  I told her that if she got up in the night and started cooking, then we would worry.  That would be what would happen.  She’d either begin frying chicken or making fudge.  One thing about it, we didn’t have to worry about starvation when we lived at home.

Her friend came to visit today, and while I thought we were going to go see her great-grand-baby, what actually happened was that she went shopping with us and tomorrow we are going to see the baby.  I barely know this woman, and I certainly don’t know her daughter/granddaughter/ or baby.  Yet, I will be compelled to go and ooh and ahh over this unknown infant.  I amuse myself by thinking that I am a wise woman going to see the Christ child.  I wonder if I should be the one to bring the gold, frankincense, or myrhh.  I think I’m going as the little drummer girl.  I will use the tabletop as my drum and my fingers as the sticks.  Because, let’s face it, come they told me pretty much sums it up.

Tonight I took mom and my hubby’s godmother to the Plaza to see the Christmas lights.  I didn’t realize until tonight that his godmother can be somewhat of a backseat driver.  She took me some bassackwards way down to the Plaza that I would never be able to repeat.  I must have been told 15 times “you go through the light honey.”  I didn’t need to be told to go through the light.  I did need to be told to turn, but that was kept secret until it was too late to do anything about it.  We made it just the same.  Dinner was lovely, and the lights were spectacular.  I took my own way home, and we made it just the same.

I’ve made it known that tomorrow night I will be watching the Colts.  I’ve told the godmother that I won’t be able to make dinner.  I’ve told the mother that she is more than welcome to watch the Colts with me, but unless she is able to make positive commentary regarding the game she is to keep quiet.  I would hate to hurt her.  If she talks like she did during the movie a few nights ago, all bets are off.  We did have a discussion about her funeral arrangements (out of the blue…like so many other conversations).  I now know what she would like to wear (like it won’t be moth eaten in 20 years!), that she has no pallbearers chosen, and that…and this is the only part that made this conversation less than depressing…my sisters and I can choose whomever we like to perform the service!  Do you hear angels singing?  Perhaps it is just me.  You would have to understand the pain of attending my dad’s funeral service and having a sermon preached, to understand my joy at not having to face that again.  I told mom that I would rather not have the same person who presided over dad’s service and she said that was fine!  Maybe (in 20 years) when I am mourning my mother I won’t have to hear someone make an altar call.

It’s 2:00 a.m. and I hear her gently snoring in the other room.  I’ve complained some, I know, but it is nice to hear it.  She’s having a great time, and it will give her something to talk about for months or longer.  I know I won’t have her forever, and this trip will give me great memories as well.  Tonight the look of wonder on her face as she saw the Plaza in all its Christmas glory was much like it would have been on The Precious.  As I was helping her zip her coat as we left the restaurant, she commented that she must have entered her second childhood.  Not yet, but maybe not too far from now either.

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