(But don't worry- the same day that the school emailed to tell me they had cancelled our order, they sent home a NEW FUNDRAISER! Woohoo! Anybody need a wreath?)
Another fail: School pictures. Of course, OF COURSE my kid would split his forehead open the week before school pictures. What's funny (not funny ha ha, but more funny irritating) is that we have a DELUXE and SUPER SPECIAL- need I mention expensive- CUSTOM MADE fireplace cover that it supposed to prevent just this type of injury. Alas, BOTH of my children have found ways to vault over the protective hearth pad and split their heads open on the brick wall surrounding the wood stove.
Jack had a little help from Sawyer with this injury. Apparently there was some pushing and a scuffle and who the hell knows how they managed to do this, but I will tell you this- Jack is a bleeder. Sheesh.
Boys will be boys and all that blah blah. You want to know who is really to blame for ruining school pictures? The damn DMV.
A few weeks ago I received a postcard informing me that my driver's license was going to expire on my birthday. Okay, fine. Whatever. I tossed that piece of mail aside and went back to whatever exciting task I had been doing, drinking cosmopolitans and eating bonbons probably, and didn't think about it again. Then we had a three day weekend and I remembered that I needed to go to the DMV and so I scrounged up that postcard to make sure the office was open. This time I actually read the fine print (it's actually boldface and all caps, as if the DMV is screaming at you via this postcard) about the new identification requirements for license renewal. You need an original of your birth certificate and/or a passport, but if your name has changed then you also need your original marriage license.
Now this seems like overkill to me, but what do I know about homeland security?
Okay, fine. Whatever. I begin to search for these documents. No shocker here- I can't find them. And Brent is NO HELP WHATSOEVER because he knows exactly where his birth certificate and passport are and attempts to lecture me about the importance of keeping my things organized as I am tearing through every nook and cranny of our house in a fruitless pursuit. Needless to say, his diatribe fell upon deaf ears.
The birth certificate is iffy. It might be at my dad's, but since they are on an extended vacation and I can't seem to find things in my OWN house, I don't think I'll go rummaging through their stash of important documents.
But I know I have seen that passport. Where the hell is it?
And so I was searching once again in the deepest, darkest recesses of my closet instead of supervising my children when the head injury occurred. I think the blood is on the DMV's hands.
I was thinking with some direct pressure we could stop the bleeding and slap a bandaid on Jack's forehead, but Brent, having more experience with forehead wounds, thought we probably needed to take him in for stitches.
So instead of going to the DMV that day, I went to Urgent Care and waited for over an hour for the doctor to come in and superglue my kid's forehead back together.
And now I have an expired driver's license. And no birth certificate. And no passport.
But I do have these guys who are clearly enjoying the first fire of the season. And a big old pregnant tummy that should probably be photographed one last time before little sister makes her appearance any day now.
And now that I'm stuck at home with no driving privileges, I just might be able to find that passport. Or remember to order a birth certificate for this baby. Or at least make sure we turn in our fundraiser money on time.
Wish me luck.
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