Chapter 75 mom hair

As soon as I woke up this morning, I pinched my mother's face and shouted exaggeratedly and painfully: "Mom, you are so ugly!" Isn't it high standards and strict requirements?Every night, when my mother and I slept next to each other, I would fiddle with her face for a while.Gazing at her face, fingers run from the forehead, down to the eyes, to the cheeks, and finally to the mouth and chin.Everywhere I go, I carefully observe whether there are any wrinkles, and if there are, I will smooth them with my hands .There are no wrinkles on her face, but I am not satisfied.This morning on the bed again, I picked up the problem on my mother's face: "Oh, there are too many wrinkles! The forehead is too bald!"

"A bald forehead looks energetic!" Mom retorted, "Song Qingling combed her hair back neatly all her life." But no matter what I said, I still pointed out my dissatisfaction endlessly.The comfortable time in bed every day has become a special time for my picky mother.God is the most childlike person, and his screenwriting ability is amazing.A mediastinal tumor growing in my chest, which has been stable for 13 years, suddenly uttered a crisp cry when I was going to school one day, almost pulling me into the gate of hell, dancing on the tightrope of life and death In the past six months, there have been twists and turns. Who knows how hard it is? Even though my body is still in constant danger, I can finally recuperate at home. The disaster is a thing of the past.Needless to say, one can imagine the hardships of being a mother, but both of us insisted on not letting the days of medical treatment appear bleak in the journey of life, on the contrary they were extremely dazzling.We arranged the chemotherapy ward so that the nurses couldn't bear to leave; when there was a total lunar eclipse, although we were weak, we still ran outside the hospital in the early hours of the morning to watch, seeing the fat yellow full moon gradually disappearing into the black night sky, I felt an indescribable interest in my heart with surprise.Just like this, we stayed in the wind for an hour, and we returned to the ward when there was no trace of the moon in the night sky. From chemotherapy to surgery, the whole journey was thrilling but full of interest, writing and reading, and spiritual enjoyment never stopped. The students in that class were envious to death.

For some reason, since the onset of the disease, I have become more and more critical of my mother's appearance and dress. Now I am going home to recuperate, and I am nagging about this matter all day long.This morning, I started talking about my mother's forehead again, saying that it is too wide and should be covered by hair.Mom disagreed but accepted with a smile.I always say that I am not a patient and ask my mother to be beautiful at all times. She also knows this sentence best and has always done so.Alas, it was hard for her. To save trouble at home, I wore a thick purple sweater from grandma. As soon as I entered my house, I exclaimed: "Oh, I thought grandma came in!" Watching her mother refit her clothes, she pretended to be heartbroken and said, "101-year-old Soong Meiling looks younger than you!" She was annoyed, so she said, "If I'm ugly, don't look at me." But who do I look at if I don't look at my mother?

I insisted that my mother dress up the best and wear the most beautiful clothes every day. I remember the day I was going to have a piercing. Her clothes were like the landscape of Guilin, and the green lake dyed on the skirt seemed to be doing my best.The mother in my mind should be like this, radiant all the time, no matter in the school where I got sick, in the ward of chemotherapy, in the waiting room for surgery, during bone surgery, surgery, or blood transfusion, my mother is among all people. the most beautiful.When I woke up in the afternoon, my mother entered the room with a smile on her face and asked, "Don't you think I've changed?"

When I saw it, I realized that when my third aunt came to be a guest, my mother asked her to help and cut a row of "butt curtains". I thought I would be happy, but new criticisms came again: "Why does it look like Sammo Hung's cover is gone!" Just like that, my mother's efforts were in vain again.No matter how I change it, she will not meet my requirements.And I am also silently enjoying and being moved in this endless nitpicking.