That's MR. Buzzkill to you...

Apparently my bubble is destined to be burst, my balloon fated to be popped.

Because after reading the most recent post about my exciting jury duty summons, my brother felt as if he needed to call me RIGHT AWAY and snap me back to reality.

My career as a juror is just not meant to be. But I'm grateful that it's not ALL my fault.

In fact, I believe the majority of the fault lies with the former-police-officer-turned-law-student-turned-States-Attorneys-office-intern-turned-Public-Defenders-Office-intern.

Or Mr. Buzzkill, as I like to call my little brother.

Yes, my sibling's professional career path has potentially dashed all my dreams of storming a courtroom all "Elle Woods" style and judiciously doling out my opinions alongside a panel of my peers.

Mr. Buzzkill says that during jury selection, the parties may just be interested to know if I'm related to anyone who's been a cop. Or worked for the State's Attorney's Office. Or the Public Defender's Office. He also says he's really sorry.

I think he hears the legitimate disappointment on my end of the phone. Because he turns it around quickly and suggests that, hey, maybe I could just go down there and hang out for the day with a hundred other citizens who are sure to want to be there as much as I do. It might be fun.

But I'm already bubbling in my "stay-at-home-mom" excuse and sealing the envelope.

Whatever.

I think my driver's license is up for renewal soon. With a few tweaks, my new "Jury Duty" outfit will totally work at the DMV.

Cheap Babysitter. Terrible History Teacher.

Drew and I have been studying American history together since the beginning of January. It's pretty interesting stuff... explaining the formation of our country to a six-year old. Trying to get him to understand just how AMAZING it is that we have certain freedoms (when those freedoms are all he's ever known, it's easy to assume everyone in the world lives the same way he does). It gives me a new appreciation for the great old US of A.

In my mind I figured the best way to sear history into his little head was to get up close and personal. The cost of a few plane tickets would surely be outweighed by the indelible impression a historical adventure would make. So we've begun to plan a trip to Philadelphia (to see the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall) and New York City (to meet Lady Liberty)!

If I'd only known sooner that there was a much cheaper, more highly inaccurate method of teaching history that really spoke to my six-year old:

After Thursday's history lesson was interrupted by my VERY excited son's recount of what REALLY happened to cause that big crack, I've added "The Pink Panther" to my ever-growing list of outlawed shows in our house!

At least until we're finished with "MY AMERICA and MY WORLD" for first graders.

Ladies & Gentlemen, I Have Arrived!

It came today!

The letter I've been anticipating, hoping for, dreaming of for the past 20 years.

The proof that I decided long ago would confirm I was a capable, mature grown-up who contributed something meaningful to her community.

I was summoned to JURY DUTY!!!!!!

In case you think I'm exercising my sarcastic wit right now, let me assure you I am not.

Just ask my husband. My bewildered, confused husband who watched me wave my letter around the kitchen tonight as I exclaimed, "Do you know what this is!? Did you see it?!? Did you see what I got today!"

"Um.... yes." I could see him searching his inner database for the correct response. He knew it wasn't the one that was coming naturally to him at the moment.

"I've ALWAYS wanted to do this! I've NEVER been called to jury duty before! NOT ONCE!" I grinned widely, hoping my excitement might fuel an equal response.

His face went blank. He had clearly given up, feeling as if he had no chance of even feigning an appropriate reaction.

Despite his lack of enthusiasm, I carried on, reading the details aloud of the date and time my presence was being requested to serve my civic duty.

And then I got to the part where they list possible reasons a potential juror might be excused from this high and lofty honor.

AND I QUALIFY to be dismissed... no questions asked. I am the parent of a child under the age of six years old and I am not employed full-time.

(image courtesy of freestockphotos.biz)

In other words, the State of Florida would like for me to check the box, mail back my excuse, and get on with my job of, you know, being a mom. According to my hubby, the general population would be relieved by such a turn of events.

So now, ladies & gentlemen, I have arrived... at a quandary!

Do I bow out or step up?

What IS a wannabe civil servant to do????