It sounds like a headline from the Onion

Woman applies for new Tennessee driver's license and receives it twenty minutes later. I know. That sounds like some impossible headline from The Onion. Like when the Supreme Court said, "Same-sex Marriage? Big Whoop. Who cares?" That was a funny headline from the spoof site.

But I bluff you not. I actually departed work today to go obtain my state driver's license, which I should have done two years and two months ago but somehow didn't (see also: unpleasant chore avoidance). Instead I flashed my Massachusetts card with pride, long after I owned real estate there.

You can imagine my dread, having this long overdue task ahead of me to complete in the middle of the work week, on Sept. 11 no less, and then 20 minutes later I receive it. In fact, they were calling my number BEFORE I had the whole application filled out. The!!

So, to review:

  • I didn't arrive first thing as I was supposed to.
  • My MA driver's license was due to expire so something was guaranteed to go wrong in the next week.
  • I had to go straight from work which means I had to take the motorino which means I was probably going to crash on my way to get my driver's license because my life is that ironic.
  • It's the Department of Motor Vehicles for crying out loud.
  • All the employees were totally courteous.
  • I had all the right documentation, despite fact that I can't find anything of importance ever but still find the user's manual to the baby swing that we gave away 3 years ago.
  • I got my driver's license in less time than it sometimes takes to buy post-it notes at Rite-Aid.
  • TWENTY MINUTES, PLAYERS!

I believe this is proof that either the Cleveland Indians are going to win the World Series this year or Jesus' return is very imminent. Possibly both.

bye bye massholetn

Kiddie Birthday Parties: Can we be real here?

I know, I know. Don't pee in the pool ya swim in. I'm taking a risk here, sharing my true feelings about children's birthday parties. My children are still quite young. They stand a fighting chance of getting invited to another birthday party in their lives. So why does their cranky mama have to go all Birthday Scrooge right now, on the internets? Well if any of our friends are reading this, nota bene: I am not talking about your party. I'm speaking globally about a few things that have been making me itch.

Thing the First about the Children's Birthday: Please don't make me RSVP by calling your phone number. Please make provision on the invitation for us awkward types to either send you a text message or respondez s'il vous plait by e-mail. Your child is in my kid's class. We have only met briefly, when I was trying to catch up on Suri Cruise's fashion forecast in the grocery aisle and you were trying to use a coupon and our kids were trying to introduce us, but c'mon. Suri Cruise. Coupons for Mr. Clean. Priorities.

Thing the Second: If your invitation includes a gift registry, I will totally comply but the whole time I will be thinking, "B-b-b-but, what will our children have to look forward to when they get married???" They will be all jaded and won't experience the thrill of saying, Do we go for the Lenox pie slicer or is OXO going to cut it (literally) for us? What the hay! Someone else is buying! Let's go top shelf! Scan!

[showmyads]

Thing the Third: If the venue of your child's birthday party involves any manner of inflatable jumping apparatus or fuzzy characters that walk around and throw tickets? I am totally sending my husband to chaperone. If I have to go, I might have to hide in the corner and bite my sleeve while whimpering something about how I almost drowned in the ball jump in McDonald's playland in 1984 and maybe that's what happened to Grimace and the Fry Burgler, too. Has anyone checked on them?

Thing the Fourth: If you invite the whole class as well as your neighborhood, extended family and the stepfather of the dog of your pilates instructor's mail carrier, you are just going to have to accept that your kid is going to cry at his/her own party. Maybe not even because he/she wants to. Because that crowd would overwhelm a politician.

Thing the Fifth: It is always helpful when invitations state whether food will be served at the party. For example, if you will be serving gummi worms, cupcakes, doughnuts, ice cream, and Girl Scout cookies with a Yoohoo chaser, followed by a pinata full of Jolly Ranchers and a send-off with the s'mores and choco-dipped goodie bags, I just like to know so I can be prepared for the diabetic coma into which my children will slip later that night. Know before you go, and all that.

I guess that about covers it. I know these are all First World requests and that every birthday celebration is a sweet one, marking the passing of another year of the life of a child who is healthy enough to celebrate.

Healthy enough to celebrate and eat a Ring Pop and open lotsa gifts.

Just be careful if you go near that ball jump, kids.

*** Birthday party

Hanging out in the deep end

Like most stories, I realized this was an actual story when replaying the events of a day to Loverpants at 1:30 a.m. as we tried to muffle our laughter in an effort to not to wake up the kids. So last week I invited several mama friends to come to the downtown pool with us. Which means that I went solo to the downtown pool because my mama friends have their kids in Organized Programming, whereas mine are involved in Netflix. We do love the downtown pool but it is a lot of work to schlepp downtown with all the pool gear. Oy to the vey.

The upside of going solo is that if my kids are acting the fool, I'm an audience of one and the rest of the folks at the downtown pool are strangers.

The downside of going solo is if I need to change my tampon. Then I have an audience of two in a bathroom stall that smells like chlorine and fungus and the floor is wet with fluids of unimaginable combinations.

This story is not about tampons, however. Sorry for those we've already lost.

[showmyads]

This story is about the deep end at the downtown pool. In the deep end are two very impressive inflatable structures that float on the water. The first structure is a truly impressive jungle gym. It reminds me a bit of the obstacle course from the Nickelodeon game show Double Dare that was popular in the late '80s. Remember the whipped cream pit at the end of the slide? What's that? You weren't even alive in the '80s? Kay. Bye.

Anyway, the jungle gym requires that swimmers be of a certain height. Baby Girl measured herself last week and she was shy of the mark by a good three inches. This week, however, she was determined that she had grown. We did back to the wall and it appears the growth spurt was less than astronomical because she still appeared to be 3 inches shy of the mark.

"But, Mama, maybe just check to see if Little Man is tall enough. Because Daddy said his head is bigger than mine."

After measuring Little Man, it appears that his remarkable noggin did not, in fact, clear him for the jungle gym eligibility after all.

The second structure on the water is a giant inflatable pyramid. One one side, stairs. On the other, a slide. Boss, right?

I asked the kids if they wanted to see their mama climb the pyramid and slide down the slide. They flipped for the idea. As we passed the lifeguard, who looked EXACTLY like Spicoli, leans off his chair and looks at me and says, "You know they can go on this one."

Which to me means, your kids can go scale this pyramid thing even though they can barely find their own mouths with a fork somedays.

So I said, Okay, thanks!

And then I had my kids stand next to Spicoli's chair while I waited in line for my rightful turn to scale the pyramid.

Just as I am about to get my turn to dive into the water, Spicoli dismounts his chair and a new lifeguard takes over. So now both lifeguards are looking at me and I dive in.

But somewhere between the moment my feet leave the edge of the pool and when my head comes up in the water for air, both lifeguards are yelling NOOOOWAAAAYYWHAAARRRYOUUUDOOOWAAIATWEEESAIIDWHAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

I still have no idea what they're saying so I tread water in the deep end and look puzzled, while my kids look on from the sides thinking, Wow. Is Mom kind of a loser right now, or?

Finally the new lifeguard says, "Ma'am, have you taken the swim test?"

Hmm. Swim test. I have to think for a moment. Let's see. Ohio driver's license test. Check. SAT. LSAT. GRE. Check, check, check. Exam to sell life insurance in Massachusetts. Exam to broker stocks in United States. Pregnancy Test. All those? Check check check.

But the swim test at the downtown pool? No! Hahah! Imagine? Somehow I missed that! Here I am in my twirties, fully capable of swimming the front crawl against heavy ocean waves and aren't I conceited to think that I didn't have to take a test for the deep end of a municipal pool.

At this point, the new lifeguard says, "Sorry, if you want to hang out in the deep end without a life jacket, you've got to go see the lifeguard standing by the kiddie pool and she'll get you all tested."

Hang out in the deep end? OH YEAH! That is my jam! I am totally wanting to hang out here in the deep end like an ant at a picnic. Oh, but thing is, see, I have these children with me, the ones standing next to you in life jackets? And all they wanted to do was see their mom slide down this water slide and cheer for joy.

But instead, I am swimming with my tail between my legs to go meet my kids.

Spicoli, ever the comforter, leans over and says, "Sorry, Ma'am, I thought you were just standing in line with your kid. Haha."

So I told him to go back to eating his pizza and learning about Cuba.

Not really.

But I was so huffy about not getting to slide down the pyramid that I didn't even take the swim test.

Proving to my children that some of us are just too cool for safety.

So cool, in fact, that we end up spending the rest of the day in the kiddie pool. So there! Take that!