Becoming Her

Yesterday, I became her. I have always imagined what becoming "her" would be like, and today I reached it. I was coming home from the elementary school having finished my motherly and community duties in the pta. As I drove in, the detective hair on my arm rose as I saw two boys across the street at the middle school being suspicious. Their heads were together and it looked like they were lighting something. (I concluded it was a smoke - very deductive Holmes) It was the middle school's lunch period and it was just beginning. The first thought in my mind was that I should call the middle school and tell them about the heathens. Then I thought of her. "Her" is the old woman in a rocking chair, knitting needles clicking, with the curtains slightly parted looking out and waiting. Waiting for something sinister to happen. When it does, she grabs the previously positioned phone and makes the call. Service rendered. So I didn't call. I was not going to become her. But suddenly I thought of the moms. Wouldn't I want to know what my kid had been doing during his nourishment period? Wouldn't I be overwhelmingly grateful for the person who was a tattletale? I could just feel the her in me itching to come out. At first it was a small nudge and then a lurch and then suddenly the 'phantom hand syndrome' overcame me and I grabbed for the phone.

Middle School Secretary: Hello?
Her: Hi, I live by the school and there are some boys on the North East side of the gym that I think are smoking. (so eloquently put)
Middle School Secretary: OK- Thank you. We'll send someone out. (That was it? No 'can I have your name and number and we will have the school officer come and question you and later give you a plaque with your name on it for service to the school?' Nope)

Service Rendered? Not quite. If I wasn't going to get a plaque, at least I had to see the fruits of my labors. I stood by the window, blinds parted and watched (knitting needles aside) By this time, several students were gathering. They kept closing around an object and then running away. (Very similar to what my husband does when lighting the fireworks display on the 4th) Well, right as the were lighting it, out of the school comes (I am assuming) the principal...running. My first thought was "oh heavenly penny, what have I done?" The principal (I'm assuming) was doing the slow motion Chariots of Fire run and the kids were doing some run to the theme song of COPS. Right before the principal (Eric Liddle if you will ) rounded the corner BOOM!! I actually saw flames. The hotshots were laughing and patting each other on the back until they saw the principal. Their faces dropped and they suddenly became model citizens just out on lunch break enjoying the fresh air and the newly mowed lawn. Now, back to her. Her actually jumped for joy and squealed. Her relished the event that had been so beautifully orchestrated by her capable hands. The principal gathered said boys around and made them empty their pockets. He questioned others. The kids dispersed and went inside. Her, pleasantly satisfied, went shuffling back to the rocking chair, grabbed the knitting needles, positioned the telephone, parted the curtains and waited.