How to Lose your Mother and your Cool in Walmart | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: How to Lose your Mother and your Cool in Walmart | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jan Christiansen
01/26/16
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It should have been a simple trip to Walmart, but my 82 year old mother, who’s visiting from Ohio, went with me. She’s a slow mover these days, so to speed things up, I left her in the health and beauty department to shop for the things on her list while I hurried to the opposite end of the store to pick up some food items.

While there, I remembered that my brother had asked me to bring him something for lunch, so I swung by the deli. I wondered if my Mom would like something, too.

Grabbing my phone I speed-dialed her cell. No answer. Sometimes she doesn’t hear the ringer. I tried again. Still no answer. I really didn’t want to run clear across the store, then come all the way back to the deli if she wanted something. I tried again. No luck. I tried 3 more times.

She finally called back. “Were you trying to reach me?”

“No, I just called 6 times to see if your phone was working.”

“Well, I had my ringer off.”

“Great. I’m in the deli. Do you want anything?”

“I’m going to look for a nightlight.”

“Ok, do you want me to get you something from the deli?”

“Where would the nightlights be?”

“Where are you right now?”

“Looking for a nightlight.”

Please, God, do not let me say what I’m thinking right now.

Deep breath. “Okay, Mom, I’m on my way over.”

“Get me some Orange Chicken.”

I got the chicken, then headed to the housewares department, but couldn’t find her anywhere on that side of the store. I called her again. Her phone rang 6 times before she finally answered. By then I was fuming. Help me keep my cool, Lord.

“Where are you, Mom.”

“I’m headed over to the deli. Where are you?”

“I’m on the other side of the store looking for you.”

“Well, I didn’t find the nightlights, so I came to find you.”

Another deep breath. “Mom, stay where you are. I’ll be right there.”

I pushed my cart at full frustration-driven speed past 30 aisles of merchandise, dodging slow movers and little children. She wasn’t there.

I violently punched the number 6 on my phone.

Three rings. “Hello.”

Seething through my teeth. “Mother, where are you?”

“I’m at the entrance where we came in.”

“You mean by the pharmacy?”

“No.”

“Well, Mother, I’m at the only other entrance, which is by the deli, where I told you to wait.”

“Well, I’m waiting.”

“Where are you waiting?”

“Right where we came in.”

“Mom, we came in by the pharmacy.”

“Yeah. I’m by the pharmacy.”

I wondered if the pharmacy would give me free drugs for elevated blood pressure.

“Mom, please don’t move. I’m checking out and I’ll be right there.”

I finally got Mom, the groceries, the now cold deli food and myself out to the car and not without a good bit of venting about how I wasn’t even able to pick up everything I needed because I was chasing after her.

The drive home was silent.

When we got to the house, my brother was in a chipper mood. He was being all cheery to Mom and fixing her plate for her. Guilt washed over me like the Red Sea closing in over the Egyptians.

“I’m glad you’re being nice to her,” I told him. “because I was just being mean to her.” I turned to Mom and apologized.

Mom teared up. “I got lost in Walmart and she got mad at me.”

My brother shot me the stink-eye.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, and disappeared down the hall to the back of the house.

I felt like a heel. Lower than a heel. I felt like a callous on the bottom of a heel.

I stood in the bathroom and cried. I prayed. I stared into the mirror, wondered how a good Christian church lady could be so mean to an 82 year old woman. I splashed water on my face, slapped on a smile and headed back out to the front of the house where they were eating. As I drew near, Mother was recounting the whole event, blow-by-blow to my perfect, never-lose-his-cool brother.

I turned right back around and made the long trip back down the hall to my room.

Only 3 more months before Mom goes back east.

Y’all pray for me!

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