I retrieved the jump-starter-thing from my garage and drove blindly into a booby trap. "Can I see your current registration?" Female civilian gate guard, nasty sour puss face, bad start.
"Hmm? Wha..? Its on the windshield.... right? That blue one...?" I'm still on my happy iced-coffee successful day cloud. I'm not registering.
"I'm going to need you to pull over to the side." Same sour puss, she wasn't amused by my clueless air-headed smile. Then it registered... I wasn't registered... or rather I used to be and then suddenly was not, since the '2' before the '14' indicated 'February' and it was now, news flash Caroline, the end of March. Aha. But it was still ok! This was still a great day! Andrew was asleep in the back instead of screaming bloody murder as he usually does when strapped in his torturous, terrible, agonizing $300 car seat of death. James was zoning watching Fraggle Rock. I would get a little ticket and be on my way. I sipped my coffee. I sipped again. I sipped for a good ten minutes and no MP showed up.
"Mommy, I have to go potty." Uh oh. This kid had slugged two bottles of liquid after the race, plus a drink at Target, where I had totally forgot to ask him if he had to go. We had been out and about since 7:30. It was now 11:30. This is eternity on the toddler potty time clock. I had to think quickly. I can't get out of the car, there is nowhere to go, I couldn't drive away... The water bottles, the empty water bottles... perfect. I turn all the way around in the drivers seat, unbuckle him and explain how this works. So there he is, happily peeing in a water bottle and me with my rear end in the air contorted around to the back seat when I hear a polite tap on the window. Ah! The MP had arrived. I think he was impressed at my ingenuity. Good start! License and insurance. Uh oh.
You see, keeping documents in my car updated is John's job. So how am I supposed to be responsible for this stuff when he's slacking in Afghanistan? Exactly. Totally not my fault that the insurance document expired seven months ago. This is man's work. Clearly. I handed it to him anyway along with my Alaska driver's license. Maybe he'd be impressed by the novelty of the license and not notice the insurance. Maybe he was really dumb, or just flat out couldn't read. Turns out he was actually a really fast reader and totally unimpressed by how cool I am because he barely had them in his hand before asking if I had a current insurance card. Here my luck slightly turns because he was a really nice guy who took pity on me and, over the course of the next half hour explained to me really really slowly all about pulling up insurance documents from USAA with my I-phone and registration laws in Arizona. Really really slowly. By now a second and third MP car have pulled up, and everyone is slowing down as they come through the gate to look at me because there is nothing like some bored MPs to make it look like you're getting arrested for smuggling cocaine onto post. Also possibly because my children are now screaming. Both of them. Andrew because he woke up from his nap in the terrible, horrible, no good very bad car seat and James because some moron made him run three miles before dawn and he's overtired and being deprived of his nap. Smooth move, Mom. We are now the people that Walmart rejected.
The MP returns to my car window. Tap tap. He has a really apologetic look on his face and two of his buddies with him. Again, uh oh....
As I'm rolling down the window I say to James, who is now mean mugging the gentlemen, "They're police men AND they're soldiers! Thats twice as cool!" I'm grasping at straws, here.
"Ma'am it turns out there is a $510 fine for having an expired out of state registration."And I stupidly smiled at him, with teeth and really wide eyes, because really what else do you do in this situation? The baby is still loudly crying, so clearly I couldn't jump on that band wagon.
Then, brilliantly, "Hmm.. well then... what do we do about this?" Andrew still screaming.
What we did about that was let me off with a warning because he didn't have it in his heart to ticket me that much money. Whew. I chalked it up to good Karma for bringing the jump-start-thing and thanked him profusely and drove away in the overly cautious law-abiding-citizen way that you're supposed to pull away after being pulled over. (P.S. Yes, Andrew was still screaming but now James had somehow fallen asleep amidst the chaos.)
Fast forward to Monday. Monday I had a doctor's appointment at 7:30 AM and a dental appointment for at 2:30, but now I MUST get my car registered. I left the boys with Mac and thought I'd just run to the DMV after my doctor's appointment. Turns out BOTH cars had expired registration. Also, turns out, I didn't have the correct paperwork to register either of them.
MacArthur is a C- baby sitter. No kids die or maim themselves while he is watching them. He spends almost all of his baby sitting time sitting on the couch showing Andrew youtube videos while James watches movies on my laptop. He does not feed children, both because this takes effort and he fears one of them might choke, and he does not change diapers unless there is a nuclear explosion. Also, if Andrew starts fussing, instead of problem-solving by changing diapers and offering snacks he serial-texts me. 'When u coming home', 'What your ETA', 'Where you at', 'How much longer'. This means that I can leave the children with him for an absolute maximum of two hours under perfect conditions.
I return home and retrieve the children. Over the course of the next four hours I made two more trips to the DMV and two trips to the MP station. I learned that the state of Arizona makes most of its revenue off of taxing unsuspecting car registrants ($469 for John's car, $500 for mine), but that these fees could be waived if the car belonged to an active duty military member who was stationed in Arizona. All you have to do is present original documents signed in the Pope's blood to prove it. If your husband is deployed and you attempt to register HIS car you actually have to have a lock of his hair, or other DNA, in your possession as a sign of good faith that you're authorized to execute such a sensitive transaction. Women also aren't allowed to own property in Arizona, so after all of this was sorted out John's is now the sole name on both of our car titles.
The time is now 1PM. I still have that dentist appointment at 2:30. I have returned to the DMV with all of the correct, blood signed, paperwork and my two miraculous children who are still behaving like angels, but complacency kills. They have not slept, they have been surviving off of rice cakes and apple slices. I know better than to try to make them sit still- so we start playing games. We hop from floor tile to floor tile avoiding the lava, we scavenger hunt for numbers, letters and EXIT signs. We remark on every desk widget of every DMV worker who is desperately trying to avoid making eye contact with me for the fourth time that day. We sing songs, we start playing "I Spy" using a rolled up DUI avoidance pamphlet as a telescope- and Every. Single. Customer. in the DMV is staring at me. A few smile kindly, but most have their 'you damned teenage parents' faces on.
Our number appears on the board. I take the required three seconds to show James how the number on the ticket and the number on the board match. Our turn! Glee! The clerk is not amused. She is also not amused that James 'spies her'. "I spy a lady's glasses, Mommy". He's peering through his telescope at her. He's smiling. Its adorable. She is still glaring. Stone cold killer. She probably clubbed three seals before breakfast. Check.
Andrew is now trying to eat her office supplies and we get down to business. She inspects my first document. Andrew arches his back and slams his head into my face in an attempt to escape. Second document. Andrew is rolling like an alligator. Third document. Andrew is rapidly wiggling his way to the dirty, never before washed DMV floor-so I hand him my keys. He drops them. On purpose. Now I'm supposed to be filling out a form so I sit him on the Hepatitis floor with the keys and try to hold him still with my ankles. James spies him. Andrew finds this hysterical and jerks his way out from between my ankles to make a break for it like a small fat mouse scurrying across the floor, and before I can even get out of my chair James is out of his hollering "I'VE GOT HIM, MOMMY!!".
No! James, no! He closes the distance in three bounds and dives on his brother. SMASH. Infant flat on the floor. "I'VE GOT HIM, MOMMY! I SAVED BABY ANDREW!" Andrew has his cheek smashed flat to the hepatitis floor but is laughing, and he's the only one. Everyone else is staring at the teenage mother in horror as I stumble out of the chair to retrieve my children. The DMV clerk sighs is tapping her pencil on the desk. This woman is ruthless. Not even the hint of a grin. Whatever, high fives all around, kids, we got the cars registered. Out we go and all of the eyes follow us. I'm thinking "nailed it! One more stop! The dentist!" I can do this! I am superwoman!
We screech into the dentist's parking lot, slap the stroller into standing position, remove both kids from the car, hurry into the office ten minutes late...annnddddd.... she doesn't have my appointment on her list, probably because this is the wrong dentist's office. You see, I've never been to a civilian dentist in my entire adult life. It didn't occur to me that there could be SEVEN of them on the same street. A few quick phone calls, one stroller folded and loaded, two kids back in car seats and we're on the way to the correct dentist. This office is actually much nicer than the other one, except James disagrees. The other one was playing cartoons on a TV. This one is all marble and snootiness. He informs me of this in front of the receptionist, "Mommy, the other dentist was better. This one doesn't even have cartoons." I smile. I'm out of breath. Andrew is in the baby carrier nursing under a blanket with his arm sticking out the top waving. My hair has been wind-whipped and infant grabbed all day and I haven't had a minute to even glance at it in a mirror. I am fifteen minutes late and I realize that I must really look like a hot mess because this woman is glaring at me just like that seal clubber in the DMV. They could be sisters. I apologize for being late and explain I was a the DMV all day with both of the kids. She doesn't even blink.
I hand her my dental records and she opens it to look immediately finds a crumpled copy of a dental x-ray. Andrew has now emerged from under the cover and is forcibly pulling my mouth open to inspect my molars. He also eagerly trying to shove his fist into my throat to grab my uvula. Seal clubber's sister is staring down her nose at me as she holds the paper with two fingers and indicates "This isn't going to work, can you see here how its not even readable? This isn't even a good copy. Where did you get this done? Was it even at a dental office?" Apparently I look like I pay elementary school kids to take snap shots of my gums.
Now I'm actually laughing because it was done at Fort Bliss, and I tell her this. She spends the next five minutes with her eyes squinted looking between me and my dental record trying to understand as I explain that I was in the Army, and that I've never been to a civilian dentist, so no, I can't just call and ask for a new copy of the x-ray. Andrew is trying to capture my tongue as I talk. James is inching closer and closer to a glass jar of chewing gum balanced on the edge of the counter with a happy looking tooth on it.
She tell me, pointedly, that this appointment will take from 30-45 minutes. I miss the point, seeing as I would never be insane enough to bring two small children to my OWN dental appointment and I though that this was James' dental appointment and I was just filling out paperwork and presenting records for my own future dental appointment. This is probably in some way my fault, but at this point in the day, I don't care. Just let the dentist see the kid.
"Fine, lets just get him checked in. Can I see your insurance cards."
I've been establishing a truly stellar relationship with this woman over the past ten minutes. She thinks I'm totally incompetent already.The room froze. I looked directly into her eyes. I pursed my lips, raised my empty hands, half smiled and asked to reschedule. The insurance cards were sitting neatly on my counter at home.
The boys and I drove home, we had chicken nuggets and toaster waffles for dinner, I poured a glass of wine, put on my bathing suit and squeezed in between the two of them in the bath tub because thats how we relax 'round here. As they piled mounds of soap suds on my head I closed my eyes and smiled. 27 more days. Come on home, John. You're missing out on all of the good stuff. ;)
