Grocery Lists and Cooking Caps
I called Mom this morning to get her grocery list before I headed to the store. I always have to plan time for this weekly ritual, as my mom can never just give me her grocery list. She always has to include a detailed description about why she needs each item. Every time. I used to get a little frustrated about it when I would be in a hurry, but now I breathe into it, realize that this is important to Mom. It also can be really entertaining if I just take the time to listen. It always starts the same way…
Hi Mom, do you have your list ready for me?
“Oh, Lord, Neese, just a minute. I’m in the kitchen making a banana pudding. I promised my nurse, Teresa, I’d make one. Let me get over to my chair and sit down.”
Once she sits down and finds where she has written down her list, we begin…
“Okay, Neese, ready? Yogurt….You know I didn’t even have any yogurt today. I had some in there, but I just wasn’t hungry. Maybe I’ll have a honeybun for breakfast…okay, chicken and beef gravy….I going to make some of those meals I do and freeze them. That gravy goes really well with my meals. Chicken is my favorite, but I’ll get some beef, too. Hairspray…don’t forget to get Rave. That’s the only kind I like now. A girl’s got to look good you know.”
This goes on for every item that she ticks off of her list. By this time, I am smiling and giggling, wryly shaking my head. I make my way to the store and carefully check that I have everything she asked for. Invariably, when I am two minutes from her apartment and fifteen minutes from the grocery store, there will be a panicked phone call. My ring for Mom is the old car horn, “AhhOOOOga!! AhhOOOOga!”
“Oh, Neese, I forgot to tell you the one most important thing I needed!”
Thankfully, there is a Walgreen’s across the street from The Home for Wayward Seniors, and I can usually find the missing item there. Catastrophe averted- I always plan time for the pit stop.
When I went over to deliver her groceries, an egg and cheese biscuit from Mickey D’s (with chocolate milk, of course), and to pick up her laundry, she was wearing what she calls her “cooking cap”, that she only wears when she’s making banana puddings or pies. My sister gave it to her, and she loves it. She says it is quite risqué, as it has pictures of vintage lingerie on it. I told her she looked absolutely adorable, and she puffed up like a rooster, beaming.
Sunday mornings are special, and I look forward to these visits. She never wants me to leave, always continuing to talk to me after we’ve said our goodbyes and I’m shutting the door. I know Sunday mornings are special to her, too.