Last Day

DAY 4: "Fast forward through the Target grocery store surveillance video, prosecution!!! (sluuuuuuurrrrrp) I think we can all agree she wasn't out looking for the baby!! Huh. Those are some good looking strawberries she bought."


I am off to have lunch with Colin out at school.  I have to say the smell of high school still makes me sweat.  My old high school was turned into a community center when they built the school Colin attends now.  Twenty -- um -- something years later it still has that smell.  Part art supplies, part sweaty gym mat, part some kid wore his chore boots to school*, part boiled hot dog, part fear, part Jean Nate. (shudder)

Of course school is very different now.  I need to check in with the office and not go racing towards the cafeteria with my brown paper lunch bag under my arm.  I do not wish to be tackled by the large sheriff's department security liaison.  It's amazing what fears motherhood overcomes.

* Urban friends and relations, some kids had to get up and do their barn chores before school.  Most did this before they showered, but there may have been one or two per day who did not get up early enough and ended up catching the bus in the shoes they had on in the barn.  There is a distinctive smell to "barn."  And if you're thinking it's just a poo-like smell, you're wrong.  It's a barn smell -- slightly different.  Nothing wrong with it, but it can make for a long algebra class if you're sitting next to it.

Passed!

Munch, munch, munch! "Follow the duct tape!! Who had the duct tape??!!  Who taped the gas can??!!"

Oh, hello.

I had to take a break from trial coverage today to take Preschooler D to preschool screening.  This is the law in the great state of Minnesota, and generally not a big deal.  They checked D's height, weight and ears and made sure he knew his name, etc.  I wasn't really worried about it . . . so much.

Preschool screening is where I finally had to admit that something with Colin was different from his peers.  He was able to do nearly everything the tester asked, but he did not speak.  He talked very little when he was D's age, and he did not respond consistently.  It was starting to worry me.  We were referred to preschool special education.  This was a good thing because we were able to get help for Colin early on -- but it was also a hard and painful time.  So I have to admit to you that when D sat down at the little table and answered question after question correctly in a loud clear voice, I breathed a sigh of relief to myself.

It's not that I wouldn't have been able to handle it again.  I would have.

But I am perfectly okay with not having to.

Popcorn Break

I cannot write to you, I am very busy with the trial.  Could you believe the defense yesterday?! I didn't think there was any way I might come to wonder if she was as guilty as I was convinced she was.

What?  You haven't been tied to In Session today?  You haven't created a system where you can watch live court coverage in each and every room in the house? Live steaming computer video in those rooms where there is no TV or some insolent child insists on watching Sesame Street?  All of the XM radios tuned to HLN?

What's that you say?  You have a life outside of this news event?  You are gainfully employed or are caring for your family by tending to your home?

I . . . OH!  The judge is back! Gotta go!

A Poem for Tuesday

Ooooh!  I'm on the couch with a second cup of coffee watching the trial I spoke of yesterday.  Ooooh!  I cannot wait for the defense!  What's her defense going to be?! because she's guilty.

Here's a poem for Memorial Day this weekend.  This poem talks about being in a time of peace.  We have active troops overseas, so it's not strictly true, but I have to say this is one of my favorites so far from Poems Children Enjoy.

Day of Memories
Emma W. Little


This is a day of memories
Of loyal hearts and true,
   Of hearts that beat like ours today,
Of hearts that loved, of hearts that longed
   To live and sing, to work and play.


Now have come years of peace again,
Of lasting peace, we pray.
   Still may we honor in our songs
That loyal band who for our land
   Died, hoping still to right its wrongs.

Contempt of Court

At the time that Casey Anthony was partying and getting tattooed while her daughter was missing, I had a very small child and I didn't want to pay attention to the news reports of the story. You know how sensitive I can be. Now that it's time for her trial, though, I think it may be just what the doctor ordered for this restless stay at home mom.  Good summer live court action is better than a soap opera (and there aren't very many of them left) any day.

Coming from a journalism background and being a lover of the law the way I am, I feel it's very important to be an unbiased she's guilty observer while both sides she's guilty present their cases.  It is time to watch the American legal system at its very finest hour where a guilty person is considered innocent even though she's guilty until proven guilty because she is. What could be better TV entertainment?

Although I will definitely have to turn away during any autopsy photos or forensic evidence. I'm not ready for that. Yuck.  I mean really.

Oh! And when if they convict guilty her, she could get the death penalty, and you know I am too much of a gentle spirit for that.

It's going to be interesting anyway . . .

And Friday

Dear friends and loved ones, if all has gone according to plan, I am very tired and have taken to my bed today.

And back to the City

For whatever reason, the following did not publish on Thursday which has, no doubt, left you wondering why I was tired on Friday. A good time was had by all at MAO, by the way . . .

Today, if all has gone according to plan, s'daughter Shelby and I have left for The Very Big Mall (You might call it the Mall of America) to look for stunning outfits for The Wedding of the Year. (No! Not Will and Kate! Jeremy and Rachel, of course.)  I am looking forward to this.

We are not leaving at 5:45 a.m.

All Prayers Accepted

Today if all has gone according to plan, dear friends and loved ones, by the time you read this I will be on a school bus with the sixth grade class headed for our state capitol to see everything a sixth grader should see in one day in our capitol.  (Not strictly true.  We are not going to the History Museum which is too bad.  It's a cool place.)

The bus left at 5:45.

That's a.m.  Although I am writing this ahead of time, I assure you, it's not going to be pretty.  I don't rise and shine so well.

I have mixed feelings about this trip.  It will be fun to be with Colin.  I have not been to a couple of our stops since I was -- probably -- a sixth grader, so that will be neat.  I would not be entirely honest with you, though, if I said that I was looking forward to a long bus trip with excited sixth graders who got up too early.

A Poem for Tuesday

My goodness yesterday's post was semi-depressing.  Let's have a cheerful mother poem.

Explaining it to Dolly
Alice Crowell Hoffman


I've tried my very best to be
As good to you, dear dolly,


As Mother dear has been
To Bud and me and Polly -- 


But if I have not measured up
In one way or another,


You must remember it's quite hard
To be as good as Mother.

When is the last . . .

After watching Stella Dallas on TCM last night I had to get into bed with Preschooler D.  When is the last time he will let me crawl in?  I think about this a lot right now.  When will he last sit in my lap?  This morning we went for a walk.  The top of his head hit the canopy of the stroller. When will his last ride be?

On Wednesday I am going with Colin on his class trip to see "Everything a 6th grader should see in the state capitol."  To be honest, I'm not really looking forward to it, but he is glad I am coming.  Is the day coming when he won't want me there?

S'daughter Shelby is here for the week before her summer job begins.  She is looking for her big post-graduation job.  Will she ever have the freedom to come and stay for this length of time again?  Will she ever have time again to sit with D and play playdough?

Oh, motherhood.  Sometimes it's like a great punch in the stomach.

A Poem for Tuesday on Wednesday

Here's a little number for s'daughter Shelby at the end of her school year.

When School Closes
Dorothy M. Baker


It's time to stand the books up
In rows upon the shelves,
And pack the charts and posters
In neat piles by themselves.


Collect the pens and pencils
And put the ink away,
For school time now is over,
And every day's for play.

Writer's Block . . . huh . . . Monday

Blah, blah, blah . . .

* I want to write something about the death of Osama Bin Laden, but I'm not sure what to say.  Should the man who plotted to destroy thousands of Americans on our own soil be put to death?  Yeah.  I remember on the afternoon of 9/11 sitting on my couch praying through the Psalms about vengeance.  How dare he make me feel afraid in my own home?!  Today, he continues to put fresh faced young men and women of the United States military in harm's way, and how dare he?!  He had to be stopped.

But I can't bring myself to go dancing in the street.  There's too much sadness from 9/11 to today.  I just saw an interview with Chris Matthews.  He said something like, "I don't think we should mark the occasion by going to the bar.  We should go to church."

* In other news, it was my birthday on Saturday.  I had a nice day with my family, thank you for asking.

* In other, other news, yesterday was s'daughter Shelby's college graduation.  Of course, I am terribly biased, but honestly, how could we not be proud of this suma cum laude graduate?  Not only she is smart and hard working, she is a lovely and gracious young woman.  She an amazing older sister.  She is a good sport, self-confidant and beautiful.  Life is just waiting for her to come and grab it.  I can't wait to see what she does!

Here's a picture of her with her dad.  What a great day!