Background:
In the last 6 months in Pittsburgh I have:
1) Had my van towed literally out from under me when I returned to my meter, trailing 3 kids and pregnant, 5 minutes late. Cost-$219.00
2) Gotten a ticket for going 6 mph over in a flashing school zone, but wait for it. . .teachers had been on strike for 4 weeks and school was not in session. When I pointed this out to the officer, he said, "Welcome to Pennsylvania." Cost-$109.00
3) Received a parking ticket (Caleb) for parking on a certain street on the 3rd Wednesday of the month between 2 and 4 pm-designated street cleaning hours. They never actually clean the street, just distribute tickets. Cost- $25.00
Then. . .
I picked up a $10 ticket for leaving one of our cars out overnight in front of our own house on our wide, quiet, neighborhood street. No biggie. Except I forgot to pay it in the 4 days allotted because I was 8/9ths pregnant and hosting 25 people for Thanksgiving that week. The next week I was served a summons by our mailman. My little parking ticket was now a $70 fine and required a court appearance. Oh, heck no.
My sweet little mother was in town to witness the absolute unhinging that transpired that day. Thanks for having my back mom, and for sitting in the car with the kids while I huffily entered my plea of "not guilty" with the court secretary and requested a hearing.
Late in February, the day of my parking ticket hearing arrived. At 9 am, with a carseat/baby on one arm and a bag full of snacks, diapers, etc. on the other, I shooed my girls into the 10 x 14 waiting room at the courthouse. It was already packed with characters who watched wide-eyed as our entourage shuffled by. A nice man with some seriously impressive body art moved seats so the five of us could sit together.
For the next 40 minutes, the girls downed baggies of cheerios and Craisins while I watched the clock. In retrospect, perhaps I should have thought twice about providing such a high-fiber snack. . .
At about 9:45, Emme let me know it was time for a refill. With no more private/sanitary options in sight, I plugged her in under my cover and prayed they wouldn't call me before the judge in such a state. Just then, Jane informed me that she had an urgent need. I pointed to the bathroom door opening directly off of the waiting room and told her she'd have to go by herself, which filled her with great joy. She skipped in and closed
and locked the door. That's when all of us in that waiting room discovered that the bathroom door created a sound barrier similar to that of a piece of cardboard.
After a minute or two of shuffling around, we heard the clinking open of the potty lid and the sounds of a wee lass climbing aboard. Then, apparently knowing she was going to be there awhile, Jane treated us all to the overture from swan lake, sung in her loudest LA LA LA's. Shoulders around the room began to shake in stifled chuckles and I'll be darned if the boat tatooed on the nice man's bicep didn't start sailing away on its fleshy sea. After an impressive finale with a long drawn out "la-la-la-la-la-laaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Jane's private theater went silent. I knew what was coming next, but trapped in my milky prison all I could do was wince my eyes shut as Jane shouted, "Mom! I need you to wipe me!" for all to hear. Stifled chuckles broke into open laughter. I sheepishly placed my newborn into her car seat, instructed Jane through the door how to unlock it so I could get in, and then took care of business like every good mother does.
Praise be, the moment we walked out of the bathroom we were called before the judge. I only had to tell my girls once to climb off the bailiff's table as I presented my case, whereafter his honor rolled his eyes at us, declared me not guilty, and sent us on our way. Bless the mother of a wayward adolescent who grabbed my arm as I walked out and told me we all had made her day.
Well, Pennsylvania court system, I may not have my pride, but I've got my 70 bucks.
Kissy fish salt and pepper shakers.
