I miss my mummy. She's back in Sweden now and is coming over on Friday. (donthateme!)
I still sometimes think back on that afternoon a few weeks ago when she was here and trying to help me out with my new IKEA-shelf. She's overworked but wants to help me in my depressive/lonely/struggling phase. The shelf was not cooperating with us at all, and after 4 hours or sweating and struggling and some violence, we gave up. Mama was on the verge of tears and I started comforting and reassuring her that it was okay.
"Still want some of that cake?"
"Oh, that's right... Yes."
She was meant to go to a friend's 50th birthday-party afterwards, so I said:
"Let's have some cake, and then you can go to the party, yeah?"
"Damn it, I was supposed to be helping you, not the other way around!" she whined with this endearing, weak lil' smile. It was so cute that she cared.
I look forward to seeing her so I can hug her to death. My mummy is my heroine right now, in this hard adult-life. Who would've thought. She's really changed.