Jimmy Dean Microwavable Sausage Biscuits

“Do not let mom get any Jimmy Dean Microwavable Sausage Biscuits, she has about a dozen boxes of them in the freezer,” says Suzanne, my older sister.

Mom’s 89. She lives alone. She’s healthy and active, alert. She still works, in the office of the Rectory of OLV. Nonetheless, she’s 89. She needs looking after.

Mom’s been a widow for 20 years now. She has a wide circle of friends, middle-aged children and adult grandchildren. Everyone wants to help her, but as everyone tries to be more helpful to her, she becomes more insistent on establishing her independence. When it comes to her children telling her what to do, she’s downright defiant.

About six months ago, we were finally able to convince her to stop driving. She used to live with my aunt, her sister, who has passed on. The Aunt would do most of the cooking. My mother raised six children and I was number five. By the time I got to college, she was no longer preparing many meals. I guess after cooking for the kids, my father, holidays, for 40 years or so, she just got sick of it and she was never somebody who enjoyed it—there were a lot of tater tots and meat loaf made with Lipton onion soup. The microwave might have been her favorite invention, coming along about the same time no kids were around to feed.

On Mondays, my sister takes my mother grocery shopping as well as other errands, doctor appointments and the like around Paramus and Bergen County environs. I can’t make it every Monday, but I go at least once a month. I love being with them almost as much I love them.

Rochelle Park Shop Rite at 10:00 am on a Monday Morning is a gray zone. I spotted one lone MILF towing around a toddler, but otherwise, everyone else shopping was well into their Medicare Benefits. The MILF, Suzanne and myself, and the supermarket employees were the only ones there under seventy. The ambience is absolutely somnambular. Everything seems to move in slow motion because the old people have no need to hurry their grocery shopping.

I’m meandering through the aisles with Mom. Suzanne is doing something else while we shop. We reach the Frozen Food aisle. The frozen food dinners require intensive scrutiny. She selects Hebrew National Cocktail Wieners and Hot Pockets and some sort of Fish Sticks. She asks the Frozen Food Manager who is stocking one of the freezers why are the Lean Cuisine labels now green. (They just changed the color of the packaging, ‘mam).

Besides convenience, I think my mother likes frozen food dinners because she enjoys throwing them. She doesn’t carefully place the boxes among the cereal and produce. After studying a product and deciding to get it, she tosses the box into the shopping cart. I sense a glee when she hears the quiet thud.

After leaning into the frozen breakfast freezer for several minutes, she straightens up. She has grabbed three bright red boxes of Jimmy Dean Microwavable Sausage Biscuits.

“Mom, Suzanne said that you already have enough Jimmy Dean Microwavable Sausage Biscuits.”

“What?”

“Suzanne said that you have enough Jimmy Dean Microwavable Sausage Biscuits. Suzanne said you do not need any more Jimmy Dean Microwavable Sausage Biscuits.”

“Suzanne told you what food I should buy?”

“She checked the freezer before we left. You have a full stock of Jimmy Dean.”

Mom grimaces at me. She is stubborn and not afraid to take a stand and make a statement. She angrily flings one by one the bright red boxes of Jimmy Dean Microwavable Sausage Biscuits into the shopping cart. Each clatters as it bounces on top of the other items.

“Tell your big sister to keep her nose out of my breakfast! I like to bring them to the office.”

Chuck out the Wheaties, forget the Total, to live to 89 the real breakfast of champions: Jimmy Dean Microwavable Sausage Biscuits