Hot honey halloumi, Mediterranean veg, giant couscous / plum, ginger and pecan flapjack

This morning was the same as every other morning this week, with mum refusing to get out of bed and instead lying in bed whimpering and groaning. Eventually she got up, turned on the tv – always the first thing she does every day – and flapped around the house until Suki fled under her safety cupboard in panic.

After a while, she clearly decided I needed her reassuring company more than she needed to hide, and crept back out to flop on the bed with me.

Mum’s friend Charolais had invited mum to the Harvest Festival lunch after church today, but when I mentioned this to mum her response was a dismissive laugh and a “no”. Undeterred, I asked Charolais to come and ask mum herself, and mum let herself be persuaded.

While mum was having a final loo visit, I quietly told Charolais how burned out I am, and about my plans to move out. Charolais has, in the past, been keen to minimise mum’s difficult behaviour and encourage me to forgive and forget, so I was expecting a negative judgement on my intention to leave.

To my surprise, once I had assured her that I wasn’t just going to leave mum alone and unsupported, she agreed with me. Not just agreed, in fact, but outright approved it as the only sensible choice for me.

Colour me very surprised!

With mum gone, I ate lunch in blissful silence, with only Suki’s purr to be heard. Then I read for a while, without interruption, then put on some laundry, without interrogation and criticism of all the ways I was doing it wrong.

At some point these simple things became rare treats. I had almost forgotten how it feels to not be under constant scrutiny, with a litany of complaints forming my daily soundtrack. It only lasted a couple of hours but, while it did last, it was amazing.

This evening I cooked a two course dinner, for my own benefit, as a hobby I too rarely indulge, rather than to reward mum’s “will there be food soon?”

The whole time dinner was cooking, mum pestered me with “isn’t it ready yet?”, interspersed with the resumption of the loop about her teeth. I had forgotten how irritating it is when everything, from the weather to a car on tv, is somehow “just like my teeth”. 😬

When dinner was served, she refused the halloumi (which, honestly, I rather expected her to do), and took nearly all the veg, leaving me the cherry tomatoes – which she doesn’t like – and some of the more charred bits of onion. Oh well: halloumi is nicer anyway!

She did enjoy the fruit flapjack, drowned in cream, probably because I underdid the ginger and overdid the sugar.

Now I just need to get through to bedtime, when I can lay back down with a book and a Suki, and dream of a time when days like this will be normal, not a special treat.