"Do you find this too bouncy?"

Oh, how I wish it was anyone but my mother to utter those funny, funny words.

Although, in her own way, she is a comedy genius.

My mother took me bed shopping on Monday. It was, I have to say, a wonderful and frightening experience. Wonderful, because I will ever be thankful to have a mother who takes her daughter out and loans her money to buy a bed for her and her girlfriend when they have nary a bed (nor a pound) to speak of - frightening, because it involved me lying on beds in many a showroom while my mother lay on the other side uttering such phrases as: "Now, turn over! No, properly!I want to see what it feels like!" and "Hmm...I think this bed is a bit too bouncy for us..."

Once I figured out what she was doing, I have to say I was both strangely touched and a little relieved: she was making me do the bed dance in all the showrooms in the southern United Kingdom so that she could make sure GP wasn't going to be bounced out of bed everytime I fidgeted (I'm a huge bed fidget, I admit it). It's not like she was making me cuddle her, no: she would make me lie far on one side, with her on the other, and then note the amount of movement the bed recorded whilst I fidgeted like Lindsay Lohan waiting for another dose of love dust. I love that my mother gets so invested in her daughter's (daughter's?... I always forget what the rule is...does the ' go before the s or after?) welfare that she's willing not only to buy a bed, but to also test it to make sure that it's acceptable for both of the people who'll be sleeping in it. Please forgive my gushing...but after having sat through lectures about how homosexuality is second only to pedophilia in terms of wrongness from other family members...her willingness to help me out and provide for my partner made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I do love my mother.