The size of our publication and the communities that I cover are such that often I'm caught right in the center of the intersection of reporting and parenting. My kids are use to it by now—the fact that mom comes to the Christmas plays, concerts, etc., and stands right up front to take pictures and is allowed to do that because it's her job.

Sometimes, though, circumstances make it so that all I can do is be the parent. Take last night's band concert in Britton. Just take yesterday in general, when I went to extreme lengths to be organized for said concert in which both rug rats were performing. I even baked cookies—FROM SCRATCH!!! I had all the outfits and instruments packed. I had lunch and dinner packed, so I wouldn't have to eat out. I had the video camera and blank disc packed. I'd done everything, except that I left home without my purse. I didn't realize I'd left without my purse until my dear son called me at work (on a Wednesday deadline day no less) to say he was certain he needed black pants and a white shirt for the concert and asked if I could run out and buy some.

"No, no, no," I said. "I asked the band director weeks ago what 6th graders needed to be wearing for the concert, specifically so I wouldn't be scrambling the day or week of the event to find clothes."

Meanwhile, I was trying to put finishing touches on feature stories, layout pages, gather last minute info from sources, etc., and field calls from my dear husband who was trying—ON A WEDNESDAY!!!—to talk to our mortgage company. 

Fortunately, It all worked itself out until just before the concert when I tried to use the video camera, but it was out of juice from my son—George Lucas, Jr.,—constantly using it to make animated Lego Star Wars movies. That meant I had to plug the thing in way in the back of the auditorium. Of course, that wasn't the end of it. I'd left the blank disc in the car. By the time, I figured all of this out, the concert was about to begin and there was no time to retrieve it. There also was no real way of moving from where I was sitting—way in back—because it was standing room only. That meant I had no real chance of getting in a prime spot for a perfect photo op for the newspaper, or for myself for that matter. I had to take what I could get and sit back and enjoy the show with only the memory of it glum onto and only a couple of photographs to show the family members living beyond the borders of the great State of Michigan.

Here's one of the photos. 

Yes, those are my son's hands. That's my son's flute and his white shirt and black pants—AND HIS MUSIC STAND BLOCKING HIS FACE. That's all I could see of him from where I sat, but it's a band concert. What's there to see? I just sat back, relaxed and listened.

Now that that is over, it's on to yet another school-sponsored event this evening where my dear daughter will be playing an elf. My video camera is charged, so I'm staking out a front row seat for this one.  

Cristina Trapani-Scott reporting for the Tecumseh Herald from the ever diminishing border between sanity and insanity.