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(Of course all of this made possible by her husband, who renounced of her and her services for all those days!)

After staying with us for more than six weeks my mom has gone home last week and now, I don't have any time anymore. I will not lie, I was spoiled, WE were spoiled. The dinner was cooked, the bathrooms cleaned, the carpets vacuumed... and then some other things were cleaned that had never been cleaned before, like the windows and the top of the book shelves! Then I had a baby and in the following days I could still check my email and read stuff and post and run errands in the car, by myself, listening to new cds! It was like heaven, only I still had to use a fork to bring food to my mouth. (Because in heavenly Jerusalem fresh fruit and roasted birds fall into your mouth, no? Did I get this right? I'm not sure.).

I would thank her, obviously, but I'm not really sure how to do that. Where do you start? You should know my mom is an old-school homemaker. It is a whole other level than the stuff I do. I dabble in homemaking compared to her. I'm a lazy dilettante. When I iron, the shirts and pants look decent but somehow still a little tense, nervous, not confidently flat. When she irons all the clothes submit to her expert touch and they look... relaxed and fulfilled. "This is what we were meant to look like! Finally!" When I cook, things taste good, you'd have seconds if you're hungry. But when she cooks, there are these little taste twists and special feelings in your mouth and you think oh, more, more, forever more! She puts the extra work in it, you know? Things don't get just done, they get done right, thoroughly. During housework I am always so blindsided by my pride ("Look! I am houseworking! Yay! Somebody take a picture, I'm cleaning!") that the mere fact is enough for me to call it quits soon thereafter. No need to "do the corners", if it smells like soap, it's clean, no?

Incidentally she is also an expert baby-holder. There is no baby that will not succumb to her powers. It might be the special positioning or the secret combination of steps between the living room to the kitchen or, most likely, it is secret baby language she has been learning for the last, oh I don't know, 40+ years? There is also thoroughness in the baby holding. I can only compete because I am the mother and I have to do the holding whether I want it or not, but let's be honest, if you read this blog, you know I lack the attitude. I am schlumpy, that's what I am.

I am pretty lucky, because when I look around it seems there are very few old-school homemakers around and even fewer grandmother/old-school-homemakers, who are willing and able to serve their daughter and her family for a month and a half, oh, and pay her own airfare to be able to do so as well as spend her fun money on her daughter's groceries. Yeah. I am so not kidding.

We called her Cinderella... because, well, for obvious reasons and because... she's a sunset in a frame!