How many times is it now?

This morning, I let Moma sleep late. At 9:00, I woke her and fed her breakfast. "What day is this?" she asks, as she does every morning. I answer, "Saturday". She nods. I give her her morning meds. "Is today Wednesday?" she wants to know. I answer, "Saturday". She nods. When she finishes eating, she gets up to go to the bathroom. "What is today?" she asks. "Moma, it is Saturday", I answer. "oh" is all she says. I leave for the grocery store.
Lunch time ( a later lunch due to the later breakfast), I call her to eat. "Is today Sunday?" she asks. "No, today is Saturday", I call back to her, returning to the kitchen to finish her lunch. She comes to the table. "And today is Saturday?". I nod. She eats her lunch, watching to see if I am watching her trying to feed my dogs. I correct her (she hates when she gets caught). "What day is this?" again, she asks. "Saturday", I mumble tired of answering the same question. "What?" she asks. "SATURDAY" I say in a louder voice.
You get the idea. Today, I decided just for kicks to keep count. She asked 12 times about what the day of the week was before I tired of this game. Kerry and I went out to eat, and I told my sister to keep count. She saved that for me. All she asked Sherry was, "Where did Julie and Kerry go?" She asked me again what the day was when we got home.
It is so sad to not have a clue not only what day it is, but not know that you have asked that 25 times. I can lose track of the days during the summer when I am out of school, but I don't keep forgetting it. I do finally figure it out. We take our youth for granted. I am learning to live life every day to the fullest. Stop sweating the small stuff that does not count. Things that used to drive me crazy are now just a part of our daily routine. Wow, look at me, I am finally becoming a mature adult (well, let's don't get carried away, adult maybe, but mature? never!)
As I gave Moma her bedtime medicine and bid her goodnight, her last words of the day to me were...."Tomorrow is Sunday?". Yes, Moma, tomorrow is Sunday. Goodnight.