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Gill’s Crohn’s has been acting up recently. She has been reduced to eating rice cakes, plain rice, toast, chicken soup. All to no avail. She may survive the current ‘explosion’ but her toilet may not. I think she’s considering taking out an insurance policy on her porcelain beauty.

One evening, craving a ‘real’ meal, she tested fate by cooking herself a chicken with peas, two of her favorite bland foods. “Ma, as I sat down to eat my sad frozen peas, I thought of those lovely fresh from the garden peas you gave me when I was home in the summer. They were so good! And it came to me then what an act of love that was…it’s the small things that make me miss you and the family. I feel homesick when I eat peas.”

I was touched. And it’s true — it’s the small things that let you know you’re loved. I thought it was touching that, when Gill packed her meal for the flight back to Britain, she packed the last piece of my homemade peach pie. She demands it every summer and I always make at least one for her. Just the way my mom baked peach pie for me and brought it to my dorm when I was in university. It was a piece of love in a pie.

L’il Sis surprised me this week with her new tattoo. I’m not a huge fan of tattoos generally, but the ones she and Gill have are tasteful and I have come to appreciate them. Her latest is on her arm and is a bird, much like a robin, with feet that remind me of Newton’s (Gill’s parakeet) crippled ones. She named it ‘Mama bird” after me! I thought that was delightful. I suspect the inclination to get the tattoo was brought on by a recent health scare I had that has the kids worried about me. Hey, I could have worse tributes than a bird tattoo!

I know the kids are concerned and I know they are trying to be mindful without hovering. After all the years of me hovering over them, I guess it’s their turn. Although I can’t say I’m yet ready to be fussed over and coddled. Hopefully that won’t be necessary. But I do love the fact that they care enough to keep an eye on me, insist I get things properly checked out with doctors, and take care of myself. Although Crazy D may have crossed the line when he posted an article on FB about the signs of stroke. I already knew them, including the one about one’s tongue. So now what? I have to stick out my tongue at them whenever I see them? Come to think of it, I might do that just on general principles…

I suspect the real reason that they are worried is that I haven’t yet hit panic mode — my usual ‘go to’ modus operandi.  But why panic now? There’s lots of time after my test results come in.

But  it is gratifying that I seem to have done something right as a parent to have all three kids concerned about my well-being and showing me that they love me. A mom can’t ask for more than that.