Happy Birthday.

My blog is a year old today. And two days ago, I got another year older, too. We had pasta carbonara for dinner on Wednesday night, which I love, and Todd got me a coffee table book about Sesame Street, which Bean and I have been checking out ever since.

In the past year, I have gotten more mature about some things. Like telling Todd what's bothering me instead of swallowing it. And helping to take responsibility for my mom's care. But I still avoid things, and I still can't handle some things, and today a situation arose which gave me the opportunity to really be myself.

Let me start by saying that while I want to know what's going on in Haiti right now, I try not to think about what's going on in Haiti right now. I begin to imagine hurt babies or kids, or I see that on television, and I divert myself by worrying about what I need to get at the grocery store or by changing the channel to HGTV. Also, know that my sisters still joke about how I didn't want to see Air Force One when it came out because it looked "too exciting." I'm more of a Lost in Translation sort of girl.

So, today I had jury duty. And I drove without Sirius, which meant no Howard, which meant WBUR and Haiti updates. And to occupy my kid-free time in the jury pool room, I brought two books, my laptop, and thanks to Jeff, I even had a purse-sized book of crossword puzzles with me. Then I got called into a courtroom with about 80 other jurors and about two hours later, was very close to landing a FOUR-WEEK MURDER TRIAL. Which I could not handle.

And I told the judge that I was the victim of a crime and that my brother-in-law was a reserve police officer, but when she asked if I could still be a fair and impartial juror, I said, "Yes." Because I want to be fair and because I can't really lie and because I want to please authority figures. So I was ushered into another waiting room, and I eventually scurried out to ask one of the guards, "Did I miss my opportunity to mention hardships like child care?" Because I'm in charge of Marley and Rudy five days a week, and I'm transportation for my mom's day care twice a week, and I bring her to all of her doctor's appointments all. the. time. The security guard told me I'd have another chance.

When I was brought in to see the judge again, I had to sit at a stand and again answer questions about whether I'd be fair and impartial, considering that the defendant and the victim were both HAITIAN men, and did I have a problem with Haitians or black men in general? Good Lord. When I said no, the judge started filing my papers, and then I blurted out, "What about hardships?" And then, I got the chance to explain and be excused.

Really, at the start, I should've said I couldn't be fair and impartial because murder is something I don't want to think about, and I could've used Air Force One as an example of my sensitivity. Danielle and Heather said at a murder trial I would've been rocking back and forth in the courtroom. I would've, at least on the inside, because just thinking about that case, and especially about how I would've had to fashion a ridiculous schedule for the next four weeks, my heart was really pounding and I gave myself a headache.

This makes me feel like I'm not a real grown-up. And all I want to do is chill out about it. But then when I brought my kids home from Heather's, Marley regressed about a year and a half whining and tantruming, and Rudy is upstairs wailing right now, refusing to take an afternoon nap. So I will carry on, because even though I sometimes find it difficult to be a competent adult, I am actually a pretty great mom.