The days preceding a holiday are incredibly busy for hospice. I think doctors put the full court press on patients they can't help and don't want to fuss with too much over these long weekends. I mean that seriously. Does the thought of hospice just pop into their brains on Fridays and holidays? I've had an admission a day and last night, two. Add to that, an array of unusual problems enrolled patients were having and I was hopping busy. I'd had high hopes for sneaking into the market on my dinner break because the stores looked like madhouses during normal hours during the day. Best laid plans.
I don't know what got into me when I got home. I finished my work at exactly 12:30 AM, called the time clock to sign out and went grocery shopping. I wasn't tired enough to go to sleep and my shopping list was weighing heavy on my mind. The 24 hour Meijer's store looked like a bomb had hit it. The potatoes were gone for God's sake. Store shelves were empty and stock help looked overwhelmed. I got everything on my list including the
wine things I can't live without on Thursday. Mr. Larger Than Life is coming and my husband is exercising his excuse of working that day so I can have some alone time with his father.
I spent an enormous amount of money on food that should feed us for a week-or at least through Sunday. It took me forever to scan all the food I bought. The next lane over, someone else had brought her son too. (You didn't think I went alone, did you?) It was 1:40 in the morning and there she was shopping with her 6 year old. Poor guy was wrapped pretty tight and looked tired.
My own son, a criminal justice major in college muttered something about abuse. He's had a pretty sheltered life and no real exposure to this kind of thing and now, he is taking a class in child abuse. Is this abuse? Maybe she was as desperate as me to get the chore done and did what she had to do. Last month, while shopping at Barnes and Noble in Virginia, there was a woman in the coffee shop who'd bought her kid a piece of cake. Her son was eating that cake with joy and abandon. A man behind me said to another that he thought they should call the police on that woman for feeding her son a cake with a days worth of useless calories in it. If her boy had been overweight in the unsafe zone, maybe I would have agreed, but he wasn't. He was just a kid out on the town and eating cake. Maybe it was his birthday. I try hard not to be judgmental and I was annoyed with the man who'd said that. Where I saw a kid in his glory, this man saw abuse. I loathe the judgment police. Here I was tonight though being just that. Judgment Police. I'd agreed with my son and felt the youngster should have been home in bed. It wasn't until I got home and thought about it, I realized I never even gave her the benefit of the doubt. If I ever bump into her again like this, I won't.
Do you think shopping mom should have the benefit of the doubt?