Steamed

My experience over the last few days has me annoyed enough to earn a blog post. Let me share it with you....

Let's start on Sunday, when I had 3 of the boys out in our Escort for a quick trip to WalMart. Of course the local police have nothing better to do than harrass a mother with a car full of kids because she has a brake light out. Chris has known about this brake light for almost a month, but has chosen not to do anything about it because our car is junk and he doesn't want to put any more money into it. So I got pulled over and written up with a warning for the light. Luckily the 8 mo was in a good mood and so not screaming his head off while we sat at the side of the road.

I got a postcard from the officer to have filled out once the light is fixed. I could either take it to a garage, who would fill out their section, and then I would mail in the proof that it is fixed, or Chris could fix it himself and then I would drive the car to the police station myself where they would sign off on the card. Last night after work, Chris found a spare bulb in the glove compartment and replaces the light. It took him less than 20 minutes to fix the light. (please note that the reason Chris didn't want to fix the light is that he didnt' want to spend money, and in the end, he did not because the spare was already in the glove compartment!)

I was going out on an errand last night, so I figured I'd stop at a police station while I was out and take care of the card. I had to call around to find a station because I have no idea where any of them are around here. In the 2 1/2 years I've lived here, I haven't needed to find one. So is there a number on the card? Nope. I got out the phone book and tried to find police stations. Not as easy as it sounds. I called the station in the biggest town around here, figuring they could tell me where the closest one to me is. After being given a second number to call, then being put on hold and then being told they'd have an officer call me back (like duh, don't the Police themselves know where the durn station is????), I tried another station, who told me where the station is in my town (finally!). BUT they close at 5 or maybe even 4:30. Great, it was 6 pm. So that means I had to drive the car to the station during business hours, which is when, guess what?, while Chris is at work! DUH. How am I supposed to drive the 5 pass car to a police station to have it checked if I have 8 people to drive around????? Well, I arranged to have the baby napping so the 13 yo can be in charge of him and the 7 yo, and put the 11 and 9 yo on warning to behave themselves while I went out, and dragged out the 5 yo and the 3 yo. I am uncomfortable leaving so many home alone with the oldest being only 13, but there you go, what other choice did I have?

I found the local police station, which was not very far at all, and got the kids out to go inside. The 3 yo absolutely did NOT want to go inside. Sigh. It took over 5 min to convince him to go in. Luckily I didn't have to wait to talk to someone, and the officer there came out right away and checked my light. He stamped my card, and then handed it back! What? I still have to mail it in because it was issued from a different region. UGH.

Well, it is a postcard, so I figure I'll stop at the post office on the way home, and pay for a postcard stamp, because the 3 yo wants to go to the post office. So I get the kids out and walk up to the post office, and guess what? Yup, the 3 yo does not want to go inside. A very nice man was trying to hold the door for us and 3 yo was just lying on the ground refusing to go in. Finally I just picked him up by his shirt and dragged him across the doorway and dropped him on the mat inside the door. (I'd already had a rough morning with him) So up to the counter I go, and tell the postal worker that I'd like to buy a postcard stamp. He looks at the card and says Nope, it's an oversized card and takes full postage. ARRRRGGGHHHH I should have just gone home and stuck it in the mailbox! And why the heck doesn't it have prepaid postage on it anyway? And why can't I just turn it in to any department? And why did the original officer, who had nothing better to do on Sunday than harrass obviously threatening-looking, dangerously-driving moms-on-their-way-to-WalMart-with-cars-full-of-kids, not tell said mother which station to go to? In fact, he told me I could go to ANY station. Not true, it turns out. What a day. And of course, it's all Chris' fault ;-)