Chill Out

The kids and I ventured into Trader Joe's today. It was a bit crowded with the Didn't Shop Before New Year's crew, people who, like us, were eating snacks yesterday instead of meals.

Elizabeth sat in the front of the small cart. Joseph walked to the right and slightly to the front, asking if they could have seconds of the free samples. As I turned my head to say no for the thirtieth time, slowly continuing forward, a woman's panicked voice filled my ears.

"There's a little girl there!" she cried in a tone of absolute horror. I slowed a bit more and turned to look at her, expecting to see a child dangling from the rafters.

She looked at me with disgust and contempt, "There's a CHILD in front of you!"

Looking around Elizabeth, I spied a girl of about six shuffling in her silver Uggs a mere inch in front of my shopping cart. It was too late to stop. I bumped into her back. She turned to look behind her and then shuffled to her mom a few feet away.

"You need to pay attention! Do you have any idea how badly she could have been hurt? As a mother, you should be mindful of other children and not so unseeing!" Her tirade fell over my ears, numbing my senses as I tried to move away.

People stared. My face turned red.

The little girl's mother looked at me in confusion. My obviously close call with her daughter had apparently not phased her or the little girl.

I looked back at this woman, her face a mask of horror. I wanted to tell her, "Look, bitch. I've had a pretty crappy week and the last thing I need is crazy woman over reacting to a .00001 mph bump with a shopping cart. I'm not texting. I'm not talking on my phone. I'm trying to coral two small children in a crowded store while keeping my shopping list in my fuzzy mind. Back. Off."

Instead, I said, "I didn't see her." And kept trying to shuffle away, hoping the crowd would part.

"How could you not see her?" She asked in horror. "She's right in front of you."

"Because my daughter fills my vision and, in the cart, is nearly as tall as I am. Because my son was pulling me one direction while I tried to keep my cart in the aisle." I kept my tone mild. I refrained from adding, "Because I'm not driving in a car and a small bump with a grocery cart doesn't seem to be bothering the girl or her mother."

She sneered and shook her head as I moved further away. I could hear her stage whisper behind me, "People are so disrespectful and rude."

Yes. Lady. Yes, they are. And if I were half as rude as you, the police would have been called to break up a brawl in the nuts section.

I thought, briefly, of sweetly telling her perhaps her New Year's Resolution should be to not sweat the small stuff.

Instead, I turned into a less crowded aisle and tried to lower my blood pressure. Maybe someone she cared for has been horribly injured or maimed by getting bumped by a shopping cart.