Friday, March 4, 2016


Pregnancy was a total beast this go-around. That and a newborn explains the shocking lack of charming writing from yours truly. But today I break my silence with a tale of DMV Hell.

One would assume this yarn would begin with a rant of how awful the DMV is and how atrocious its employees are, BUT neither one is the case. The employees were kind and friendly, the system was the best it probably could be. This one is all me folks.

I prepped. I got out my passport, my two forms of mail, my insurance cards, my Connecticut license (that's right, I've lived here almost two years and I'm just now changing over my license) and my old Utah license. I'd filled out the form online. Stew and Pippa were fed and potty needs were met. I even made an appointment. I was five minutes early and the crowds seemed minimal. I made my way through the first line, took my picture, signed my name waited for my number to be called and all was going relatively smoothly. My number was called and I started forking over all of my paperwork--minus my social security card. AHHHHHHH! How could I have forgotten that?! After rifling through my wallet a couple of times, and racking my brains for what kind of paperwork could possibly contain that number, I came up devastatingly empty. But I still had this- throw kids back in the car, drive home, run inside, retrieve card, jump back in car, drive back and I'm good.

Or not so good. Stew fell asleep and a beast reemerged when we reached the DMV. I am now carrying a feral Stew in one arm and a ticking-time bomb Pippa in her infuriatingly awkward and heavy car seat in the other arm. In the time it has taken me to drive home and back, the DMV has gone from somewhat empty to a crawling concern. We went through the whole waiting procedure again. This time with no appointment, crazed babies and a three-fold increase in waiting. But it was okay, I totally had this. Maybe they'd put me ahead in line and then I just had to show the guy the card and we'd be out of here. No need to miss my number being called to change a diaper or feed the baby. So I foolishly pressed on. Stew decided he needed to pee in the middle of the insanely long process of the DMV guy doing whoever-knows-what on his computer. Pippa starts to get hungry and fussy. I'm trying to talk down Stewart, bounce the boulder that is Pippa's seat and then Mr. DMV breaks through with a timid, "You've got to take the written test now". What?! This is not happening. Please no.

But happen it did. I found myself dragging my children, sweat pouring from every edifice over to a computer screen, DMV manual in hand and tears in everyone's eyes. You better believe all of those poor, fellow test takers were so excited to see me banging my way to the middle of the fray. Doesn't everyone love taking a test to a screaming baby? I know I do! I pulled Pippa out and spent the next twenty-five soul sucking, desperate minutes, furiously bouncing Pippa on my knee, madly flipping through a manual, begging Stew to hold on and madly tapping my answers out on a touch screen. But like all American movie plots, this one wraps up with a happy ending-I passed! I am now taking the names and numbers of the millions needing someone to slay their ACT tests, screaming baby and toddler in hand. Just make sure you bring your social security card.    

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