After driving around with only a printed out temporary drivers license, I finally forced myself to go to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) on Saturday to get my new license. Going to the DMV is a special kind of torture for me. I don't know why, but it seems like only the dregs of society ever need to get their licenses renewed when I'm there. I stood in a line a good 30 people long to be given a number and told to go get my picture taken. Thank God for the internet, in that I could renew online and skip the first very long step involved with getting a renewed license.
My number came up and I trudged on in to the cubicle. An unsmiling young man greeted me and made me answer all the questions about voting registration and organ donation. He told me to sit down and look at the camera. He spoke in complete monotone. He took the first picture and wouldn't even let me see it. He started shaking his head "no" and then asked me to remove my purse strap from my shoulder. Apparently, my shoulder strap was preventing him from getting a good shot of my face.
Whatever.
I removed my purse and he took the picture again. It wasn't my best, but it wasn't my worst either and I told him to just print it. Standing at the counter was awkward and my license was taking forever to print. I noticed that the young man was missing part of his name tag. To make small talk I said, "What happened? Did your dog chew up your name tag?"
He didn't crack even a hint of a smile before responding in a monotone, "It just broke. I told them I need a new one, but they didn't get me one yet. So I just wear this one."
"Oh," I said.
Then, I had to bite back laughter and tears as I read the leftover bit of his name tag. "Ken Pew." That is one man who seriously needs a new name tag.
After surviving the DMV, we decided to treat the girls to lunch at Friendly's before hitting the museum. The other night our Realtor asked what we do with the girls for fun and Mr. BBM and I just sort of stared awkwardly at each other. We haven't done anything in a really long time. With a Mommy who can't walk for long periods of time, "fun" just doesn't happen.
We had an enjoyable lunch and then it was time for dessert. Mr. BBM had ordered a meal that comes with a sundae as did the girls. They ordered their ice cream and Mr. BBM asked the waiter what type of sundae he was allowed to get with his meal. Before the server could answer, I figured I'd save the waiter the trouble since I had read the menu and said, "You get a 'Happy Ending'."
He got fire engine red and started cracking up laughing. I blinked back at him and asked him what was so funny, but he was laughing so hard he couldn't even speak. Meanwhile, the girls are staring at him, as is the waiter.
"What is your problem?" I asked.
"A happy ending" he blurts out, still hysterical.
The waiter started laughing as I told him to get his mind out of the gutter already. "We're in a Friendly's for God's sake." Mr. BBM finally recovered enough to tell our waiter the flavor of ice cream he wanted and I was ready to smack him.
The museum went much better than the first two locales of the day, right up until Lil C threw herself on the gift shop floor and told us "going home is dupid (stupid)."
Fabulous.
She thrashed like a bucking bronco as Mr. BBM strapped her into her seat and them promptly fell asleep while we perused piles of dirt for our potential new home. Yes, we definitely needed to go have some fun.
That was Saturday.
Today we had two showings of our house. They were at 1 p.m. and 5 p.m. We cruised the neighborhood for the first one, and brought back fast food for lunch as yet another treat for the girls. Mr. BBM and I both drank super-sized diet cokes and then we headed back out to an open house to make sure our house didn't get messed up before the 5 p.m. showing. These girls are little destructors.
We made the mistake of not using the bathroom before leaving and by the time we were finished walking through the open house, Mr. BBM and I were both in agony. We were in the middle of nowhere and thought we were going to die.
Big I started bugging us to change the DVD in the player and I was afraid that if I bent down to get another movie, my bladder would burst. So Mr. BBM told Big I that "Mommy and Daddy can't concentrate because our teeth are floating." It was the worst possible thing he could have said.
We spent the next 20 minutes trying to explain what that saying meant as we maneuvered a ton of crazy back roads. On the home stretch for a brief bathroom stop at the house, Mr. BBM burped, sighed, and said, "I think I just burped up a little pee."
Usually Mr. BBM's humor is completely lost on me. I just give him a look and we all move on. This, however, struck me so funny that I could hardly contain myself. Tears streamed down my face and I doubled over in pain as I tried to keep from peeing in my pants.
Needless to say, I insisted on getting in the house first.
We quickly exited in advance of our second showing and drove around the neighborhood again. Because Big I and I can get car sick by driving only one block, and because the liquids had been flowing freely all afternoon, we decided to stay sort of put for this showing. The apartments across the street from our house have parking spaces that face our house, obscured by some shrubbery. We spent 25 minutes remarking to each other, "They're in the kitchen now. They just left the bedroom. They're outside now," but truly it wasn't good enough.
I think I'm using my Best Buy gift card to wire our house Jack Bauer style and we're totally bringing our binoculars next time. Who says we don't have any fun with the girls?
