What She Wore: Two-tone purple striped tee with three-quarter length sleeves and a scoop neck; blue jeans; tennis shoes.
Well, we took my mom home today. Without pain medicine, she's basically her old self. She's got an incision running straight down the middle of her chest with a little T at the bottom of it. Everything is tough and she can't lift, push or pull. As soon as she got home she wanted a shower. I stood guard while she did it and then helped her get dressed.
Afterwards, she wanted me to blow-dry her hair. Anyone who knows me will know that this is a dangerous proposition. I've got a curly mop from Hades that I've never been able to do anything with. Most days, fixing my hair consists of washing it. On rare occasions I'll blow dry it, but even then there's a lot of curl and if I'm being honest, a fair amount of frizz. All through high school my mother would patiently dry my hair straight on Friday nights so I could go out with a perfect "do." Once I hit college I realized that I sucked too much to have anything but curly hair. So, I was a little nervous about doing anything for my mom in this arena. She said she didn't care what it looked like--she just wanted it dry. So, I went ahead and brushed and blow-dryed it. I don't think I've ever done something like that before in my life. I am literally hair-impaired.
It was nice. Taking care of someone else for little bit, making things slightly better than they were. A pleasant little moment stuck in the middle of a normal day.