I and my family have shepherded my mom through two brain surgeries in as many Mondays. Last Monday's was the big whopper surgery; yesterday's was not so brain-related as between-the-skin-and-skull related. She does not tolerate anesthesia well and yesterday was all about advocating for the best place for her to be: namely, the hospital, even though “oh, nobody spends the night in the hospital after this second procedure.” After no sleep Sunday night (she and I shared a hotel room near the hospital; she was up every hour for one reason or another, and our alarm sounded at 5:00) I sat in her recovery room all day Monday (yesterday) and then drove the hour-and-a-half home through Darkest Vermont, where I was very happy to hug my kids (one of whom Mom couldn't name in a photo, even though she lives with them) and have bendy-like relations with my husband. It was hard to fall asleep last night so I finished loading the dishwasher and cleaned up the countertops. Lex's preschool doesn't empty for vacation until Thursday so that's a help. Not sure when I'll be going to get Mom but it'll probably be today. I asked three of the more established matrons in my church if they could please arrange for someone to bring us a meal last night but no meal came. To be fair, one of the women gave us a gift of two-dozen eggs laid by her “going crazy” chickens. We had egg-salad sandwiches for lunch after church, and Lex is eating two hard-boiled eggs for breakfast as I type.

I might get some Christmas cards in the mail today. We'll see.