Roast chicken dinner

I was in two minds over whether to write a post tonight, because I really don’t have much to say.

Mum felt terrible for most of the day, making several attempts to get up only to decide she felt too unwell and going back to bed.

I probably should have used the time to do something constructive, and I kinda did if constructing buildings in The Sims counts. Otherwise I watched the wind hurling rain at the windows and was very glad I didn’t have to go out in it.

Around mid-afternoon, mum finally got up and stayed up, but complained so much that my patience escaped me and I told her I was sorry that the doctors weren’t making her better fast enough for her taste, and “I’m sorry, but you do go on sometimes”.

Mum apologised and stopped complaining for at least five minutes.

Then she remembered that she has a hospital appointment next week and worried about it until she felt ill, at which point she swapped to worrying about why she felt ill. Later this week mum is booked in for an appointment with the mental health team, and I really hope they have some ideas on how mum can better manage her anxiety because she dismisses anything I suggest.

For dinner I was intending to do a Chinese chicken and rice dish from Simply Cook, but mum was struggling with lack of appetite so I did a simple roast chicken dinner instead. I’m intending to do something similar for Christmas dinner as it’s something I know mum likes. When I told her that’s what it would be, she responded with her characteristic enthusiasm and support: “how boring”.

Tonight I did mixed veg with our roast, and told mum the mix contained peas. Mum pulled a face, which – fair enough, I know she doesn’t like peas. I cooked her some sweetcorn instead; when she came to dish up her dinner, she said “oh, it’s fine – I quite like peas occasionally”.

I didn’t scream, but I really don’t know how.

Then we had our usual exchange of opinions about taking tablets – mum says it’s ridiculous and she can’t possibly need them all, I say “hmm” and continue handing them to her – and now mum’s watching Strictly and I’m hiding from the onslaught of sequins in my bedroom. It can’t be bedtime soon enough.

And so I’ve spun out “nothing to say” over ten (now eleven) paragraphs. Mostly complaining, I’m afraid. Hopefully tomorrow will be better and I’ll have something more interesting to say. 🤷‍♂️