Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

Happiness is passing a rite of passage…

Author: thenicknick

It was another trip to the DMV yesterday.  I’m sure you remember the tragedy that was our last trip…five months ago.  I’m sure you remember that it ended with Rachel failing and me trying to comfort her and pretty much ruining her chances of getting her permit for…well, apparently five months…because I threw away all papers verifying her existence.  *gulp*  Yeah, it took a while to recover from that.

Only, with all the papers back together, her existence firmly rooted in an appropriate paper trail, and Michael ready and able to man the office, I planned a trip to the DMV.  And I toyed with the idea of taking the morning off and spending some quality time with the girl.  I mean, how long could it possibly take?

So, we left for the DMV bright and early.  I was bemoaning being broke.  And she wanted McDonald’s.  Well, we went through the drive-thru.  And we’re rushing, hence the use of the drive-thru.  And the man in front of us was…old.  And he was taking forever.  And I was planning on using my card, while hoping against all hope that it would work.  Finally, I reached the window.

Micky D employee:  Your money is no good here.

And I’m thinking but I haven’t even given her the card yet!  How could she know?

Then she explains that the man in front of us paid for our breakfast.  Nothing could have made me feel worse.  I was grumbling about how slow he was and he was paying for my meal.

I looked at Rachel.

me: I’m going to hell for that.

Rachel: I know, Mommy.

So, we drove to DMV.  And it’s been a good six months since I’ve been there and I can literally get lost in a parking lot, so I’m worried about finding my way.

Rachel: It’s a left turn.

me: I know.  That’s very helpful.

We finally arrived.  DMV opened at 8am.  There was a line out the building and down the sidewalk.  Way down the sidewalk.  And it wasn’t moving.  And the thermometer said 84.  Only it felt more like 104.  And the air wasn’t moving, either.

Well, I tried to make the best of a bad situation.

me: Let’s play a game.  Let’s play…this line is so long…

Rachel: Okay.  You start.

me: This line is so long that I could get a manicure, pedicure and Brazilian wax, come back, and still not have lost my place.

Rachel: Okay.  This line is so long that I could go to the salon over there, get my head shaved, come back to the line and grow dreds before it moves.

We went on a few more minutes getting sillier.  And then we stopped.

I’ve been offered compensation to advertise for a cool company that does personalized blankets and canvases.  They told me that if I sent them a picture, they could make it up on canvas for me.  Sweet.

me: Help me pick one.

Only as we’re scrolling through the photos on the camera, I realize that they are predominantly kittens and Bishop.

me: No.  I’m not getting a kitten print.

Rachel: Why not?

me: Because I’m not five.

And she did that thing she does.  She started sharing our pictures and talking to the really hot guy behind us.  I should be so fearless.

After two hours in the blistering heat, we made it inside…only to wait in a new line.  On the bright side, the new line had air conditioning.  And we stood there for another fifteen or twenty minutes before we were given a number and instructed to go sit in the chairs…that were all full.  So, we stood against a wall for another hour.  Finally, two chairs emptied.  (Yes, other chairs emptied, but I let older people and pregnant people and an older pregnant person have them.  I had some bad Micky D Karma to work off.)

Finally, we sat.  And we waited.  After another ten minutes, our number was posted and the booth we were supposed to be in was given.  I stood up and rejoiced, quietly.  It was like winning the lottery.  I mean, we had been there for three hours at that point.  Over three hours.

We march happily to the booth, only to find…it’s empty.

Rachel: This is just my luck!

We waited and waited and waited.  Finally, a man came and took her information and my information.  And…sent me to a new chair.

At last…she passed!

Rachel: It was down to the wire, mom.  I had to get the last question right, or fail.

me: I suppose you’re going to want to drive now.

We did the phone calls on the way to the car.

I dialed HIM.

me: Rachel has something to tell you.

Rachel: (in a sing-song voice) I got my learner’s permit.

HIM: (in a matching sing-song voice) You’re gonna wreck your mom’s car.

We made it home.  She drove part of the way, including pulling into the driveway.  HE was outside watching as we pulled in.  And though I jumped from the vehicle and kissed the ground, in reality, she didn’t do so badly.

My baby’s a driver!

Does that officially make me old?  I know it makes me happy.  I get to watch her grow up.  I get to experience all these rites of passage with her.  And even though I often wish her father would want some of these experiences, I’m thrilled that I haven’t missed any.  One step closer to being independent.  Yay!  One step closer to leaving the nest.  *sniffle*

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 24th, 2010 at 12:09 am and is filed under Happiness is.... You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.