Nancy Grace is my guilty pleasure. I love to see her all fired up, interrupting her guests, berating her field producers and flashing fuzzy photos of her beloved twins. (psst Nancy, get an iphone) She is John Walsh meets Ann Richards. The trouble is I usually fall asleep watching her and consequently, Nancy haunts my dreams. The other night I dreamt she did an entire episode from outside my home and I still can't get it out of my head.
Nancy: Tonight, I have my producer outside the home of one Miss Three In The Bed. Kendra, do we have the mother's name yet or just this "screen identity?"
Kendra: No Nancy, just the screen name so far. We have been asking neighbors all day if anyone here knows the real name of this mother but most have simply replied she seems too "frazzled" to talk much. Another commented that she often appears "confused" or "disoriented" and makes several trips from the house to the car before actually leaving - coming back out with her purse, sippy cups, backpacks or assorted pieces of clothing. Several others commented she usually takes the garbage out in her pajamas and one went so far as to speculate that she doesn't appear to own a bra.
Nancy: I see. What can you observe about the home?
Kendra: Well Nancy, we can't actually go on the property but we are fortunate enough to be here on garbage day. The recycling bin is full of what appear to be empty frosting containers, wine bottles, crumpled up to-do lists and a Victoria Secret catalogue with the words "skinny bitches" scribbled across the pages. There are, and again, I am speculating as to what exactly this is, but it appears to be several boxes piled up by the front door labeled "Goodwill", "I Warned You" and "Skinny Clothes." There is also an "I brake for cookies" bumpersticker on the back of a minivan.
Nancy: Look - my concern are the children, what have we learned about them?
Kendra: Again Nancy, not too much. According to neighbors, the children spend a lot of time outdoors, unsupervised and unclothed. When asked one neighbor asked the little girl where her shoes were, she simply replied "Yo Gabba Gabba."
Nancy: "Yo Gabba Gabba?" What the heck does that mean?
Kendra: We don't know yet Nancy. The youngest boy isn't even a year old but is often seen pushing his own stroller down the street while Three In The Bed tags along behind, eating Skittles and reading The New Yorker. Another neighbor commented that the children appear to sustain themselves on Fig Newtons and juice boxes.
Nancy: You know, I want to say I have heard enough, but dare I ask if you have found out anything else?
Kendra: Unfortunately, yes. I pulled up a few 911 calls from the residence. There was a fire truck here in the summer when their BBQ caught fire, apparently the result of a Bobby Flay throw down gone terribly wrong. The other was an ambulance call for her husband whose injuries were not fully disclosed but the notes suggest it was a domestic incident involving the season finale of Mad Men being tivo'd over with Man versus Wild.
Nancy: Excellent work Kendra. You know, I have heard enough. I just want to take those precious babies home, bathe them in buttermilk and dress 'em in gingham. Whoever this Three In The Bed is, she makes me sick. Dr. LoveJoy, author of "First Comes Love," tell me I am right, this woman is a narcissist with hoarding tendencies?
Dr. LoveJoy: Well, we don't know much, but I suppose there is a chance, she could possibly be.
Nancy: Exactly. Why these moms don't just hang up the internet is beyond me. Kendra, thank you. Next up, Grandma caught Sexting - in church!
