A happy ending for our DMV fairy tale

I thought you all would like to know the end of the pretend, made up, and hypothetical story from yesterday.

Ahem.

Flash back to our fictional, imaginary heroine, who is beautiful, has flawless skin, and long, luxurious hair. She is so thin that models come seeking her advice on weight loss, and her mailbox is constantly full of love notes from the chiseled perfection that is Daniel Craig.

Admittedly, I might have gotten carried away with that last bit.

ANYway, upon noticing the smoking chimney staring her down, she immediately threw her car into reverse and drove around the block like the chicken that she is. After about ten minutes, she went back to the DMV with her husband's forged signature, and stood in what was now a very long line.

She, whoever she may be, is definitely not as brave as some of you fine people who would willingly forge their husband's signature while staring down the chain-smoking psychos of the DMV.

But our heroine was able to successfully register her new vehicle and is thrilled to finally have license plates.

She is mourning the loss of a gazillion billion dollars from her bank account, however.

And I feel certain that our heroine would choose to drown her sorrows in a diet coke from Sonic and a mini twix bar.

Who can waste calories on a Twinkie anyway? Especially with that delicious Daniel Craig just lying around . . .

The end.

Hypothetical fun on a Monday morning

Let's just say you get a new car. And, because you are not excited about handing over a gazillion billion dollars in sales tax to your local DMV, you wait until the last possible second to go in and register that car.

And let's just say, for imagination's sake, that upon entering the DMV, you gleefully notice there is no line. You eagerly hand over your 9,548 sheets of papers required by the local DMV.

All appears to be going well until the local DMV worker notices that your husband's signature is missing on one of the forms. You curse silently because you know that your husband is out of town for the week.

In this completely fictional situation, you would probably smile, take your piles of forms, and head out to your car. Because you are such a good person, you would then FedEx the documents to your husband's hotel, where he would sign his own name, and promptly FedEx them back the next day.

But let's just say, for argument's sake, that you are really good at signing your husband's name. So good, in fact, that he, himself, is unable to tell the difference between his own signature and your version.

Given this fact, hypothetically, you might wait out in your car, mentally allowing the ten minutes it would take for you to drive home and obtain the signature from your husband. You know, if he were actually there. You might decide to pass the time by calling your sister-in-law for a chat.

And let's just say that while you are sitting in the car chatting, not driving home for a signature from a husband who is not there, you look up to see the DMV worker who just helped you, coming out for his smoke break. He takes a few long, cancer-riddled puffs, looks your way, and notices you sitting there in your car.

Oh, frick.

In this type of alleged, hypothetical situation, do you:

a) Sit there in defiance and go back into the DMV with the signature magically obtained?

b) Give up, and go seek comfort in a Costco-sized box of Twinkies?

c) Drive around the parking lot like a coward before returning with the signature magically obtained?

d) Drive away and throw your shoe at the DMV door in protest, all while yelling obscenities and curses?

What would you do in this alleged situation, my friends?

Disclaimer: I'm not saying this was me or anyone I know. Definitely not me this morning. I have been sitting here at my desk, calmly thinking of solutions to potential problems such as this one.

I'm a problem solver, people. It's what I do.

This one's for you, Peter Skeever

On Tuesday of this week, our Crazy Uncle Pete (as is he affectionately called around here) was hit by a car while riding his bicycle to work. He went flying, landed on his head, and was knocked unconscious. The woman who hit him got out of her car, shrieked, and promptly drove away.

Yes, leaving him injured, unconscious, and alone. Not even sure if she had left him alive.

Thank heavens some witnesses to the accident called the ambulance, and Pete was rushed to a nearby hospital. He suffered a broken neck, broken back, sprained ankle, beat up face, and broken front tooth. He is not paralyzed, but will be recovering for MONTHS.

The person who did this has yet to come forward and own up to it.

Instead of focusing on the blinding rage I feel when I think about her cowardice, I am channeling my energy to well wishes for Pete and a little reminder for all you. My friends, when he landed on his head, his helmet split in two. Had he not been wearing one, well, I can't really even bring myself to think about what might have been.

The helmet literally. saved. his. life.

Please, please, please, wear your helmets. Make your kids wear their helmets. It only takes a minute, and can mean the different between being here today and not being here tomorrow. As a mother who has gotten a little lax herself when it comes to this, I can tell you, we will not be making that mistake again.

And hang in there, Pete. We're all praying for you here.

We heart these Idaho spuds of ours

Hello? Hello? Is there anybody out there?

Yeah, yeah, I know. Pink Floyd, I am not. But I am back and I've got lots to share with you.

Last week, we spent a lovely few days with this beautiful family:


My brother, Craig, and his family came for a little visit. His wife, Laura, is the sister I never got and always wanted. I LOVE her to pieces. She totally gets me. We stayed up until the wee hours chatting, pontificating, You Tubing, and cookie dough eating. Pretty much my four favorite things EVER.

We also took them to some of our favorite St. Louis sites. Like the new Five Guys restaurant, (which we love!), and which really isn't helping me any with the matter of my chubby thighs. They fell in love with it, too. And there's nothing like traveling all the way from Rexburg, Idaho to eat potatoes that are brought in from, yep, Rexburg, Idaho.

Only here in Missouri, we don't actually know how to spell "Rexburg," as you can see.

My children begged and pleaded to be kept home from school, and, good mother that I am, I used that as leverage to get them to do my bidding for an entire day. Nothing like a little motivation, eh?

Heh, heh. Suckers.

Of course, in the end, I let them stay home from school, and we had a blast at the science museum, the zoo, the park, and terrorizing the old people in our neighborhood.

Please come back soon, you Idaho spuds. It was so fun hanging out with you guys.

Plus, I could really use some leverage over these children around here. They seem to have lost their desire to do my bidding.

Stinkers.

Too tired to come up with a clever title

I am stopping my slightly manic cleaning frenzy to log on here and let you know that I may be absent from the blogosphere for the next few days. We have family coming to town (who we are absolutely excited to see) and, after two days of scrubbing every surface in our home, I think I am nearly ready for them.

Hope you all had a fabulous Easter and are not hungover on chocolate like I am. Curse those blasted Reeses peanut butter eggs.

Anyhoo, I promise to return later this week with stories and blogging galore.

Or at least a post or two.

Happy Monday, peeps.

Double your pleasure, double your fun

Last night, after I had leisurely indulged in a not-so-classic (or classy) book, which name I cannot divulge here due to the shame I'd feel if you knew I was reading it, I treated myself to a little bit of bad TV.

I mean, a girl can only work so hard in her life, right?

Shut up.

So, I'm lying in bed, falling asleep to some trashy TV, and I notice suddenly that the people on the television screen have four eyes and two heads. Yes, each. So, I sit up and adjust my glasses, thinking things would straighten themselves out.

They didn't. I was seeing two of everything.

I started to panic. My not-so-logical tendency is to assume it's the worst case scenario and jump to extremely unlikely conclusions. Like that I was having a stroke or a heart attack. Or I have a brain tumor. Maybe it's early onset dementia. Or Alzheimer's. And, oh my gosh, what if it's urinary incontence and E.D.?

Okay, maybe not that last one.

That'd be one for the medical journals, eh?

But I did panic. Here it was, ten o'clock at night, the Husband is out of town, and my children are blissfully sleeping. Totally unaware that their beloved wife and mother is probably dying of a stroke. Within minutes, I was all choked up, had planned my own funeral, and mourned the loss of myself and my unfulfilled life. You know, before I had actually come close to dying or anything.

Thankfully, it wasn't a stroke, and I sit here perfectly whole this morning, except for the killer headache I've got. It leads me to think that my double vision is most likely due to a migraine headache, which I have had before, just never with the double vision. Usually, I get the sparkling, twinkly lights before a migraine. I've been to a neurologist and do have migraine medication, but I did not think to take it last night. I figured it was wrong to treat my stroke/E.D. with Frova.

I might be a misdiagnosing psycho, but I am always cautious about my pharmaceuticals.

So now I have spent all morning Dr. Googling, and I have almost convinced myself that it is not actually a brain tumor. I now must call upon you, oh wise Internet self-diagnosing doctors. Have any of you had double vision with migraines? If so, what do you do?

Help. Please don't leave me alone here with my Dr. Google.

Bliss

I am startled out of sleep by the loud, merciless beeps. It is chilly this morning, and the tiny warm body in my bed is snuggled up close, stealing my body heat. I smile at her tangled mass of hair and wonder how she makes that perfect rock star hair in her sleep. I sigh and hit the snooze button at least three times before I can force myself out from under the warm covers.

I strip down and stand on the scale. I smile, for today it has been kind to me. I pull on the workout gear and slip into my pink, fuzzy slippers. I plod down the hall to wake the boys. As usual, they are already up. Up, at the crack of dawn.

Just like their father.

I chuckle and shake my head in awe, not comprehending how it is they manage to wake so early every day. And do it so cheerfully, too.

At breakfast, their sleepy faces start to light up as they speculate about the upcoming day. I take the morning poll and find out who is bringing and who is buying. I can almost always predict this, even without asking. Today they all surprise me and want to bring.

I suspect it has something to do with the pan of brownies on the counter.

I do dishes. I pack lunches. I blow dry the now smooth and very un-rock star-like hair. I smile and listen as she chatters on about every boy and girl in her class. I love her endless chatter, and silently wonder if everyone is lucky as I am.

I tie shoes. I zip backpacks. I look over and notice that both boys have a peanut butter smile on their cheeks. I laugh and send them in for a wash. I wipe counters. I sweep floors. I give hugs. I give kisses. I miss them already.

I stand at the door and wave. I watch the big, yellow bus take them from me, as it does each morning. I pray in my heart for their safety and happiness, as I do hundreds of times a day.

I sigh, content.

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

My Friend and I

Here is my entry for the I Heart Faces weekly photo contest. This week's theme is "My Friend & I," which I thought totally fit my two boys - polar opposites in personality, but absolutely, without a doubt, best friends.

Head on over there to see some fabulous photos.