Yesterday I visited mom. And she was in some kind of weird mood. Shaking off my own feelings about it, I wheeled her outside where we sat in the shade and colored.
When we came back in, she asked (again) about putting a table in her room. She couldn't quite grasp how things would look, so I started moving furniture. Slide the bed over. Slide the nightstand over. Dig out the card table from the closet. Set it up and move it on the other side of the bed. Then see if she can maneuver her wheelchair to that side of the bed so she can use the table.
I waited while she looked at it. She didn't like how it looked. Shes always been big on decorum, a nightstand on either side of the bed like in magazines. I said "don't think how it looks, see if it will function for you."
Nope. Put it all back. So I did. Then she cries as she gets back into her recliner. (Crying happens often lately )
After we watched some TV, I left about 3pm. At 6pm, I get a text from her asking if we can put the table back. *eyeroll*
Yep. That's how my life goes.
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