Sunday, August 25, 2013


I was kind of a pain when I was little. I never went to nursery, and I hated going to primary. I also screamed like a little girl (to be fair, I WAS actually, a little girl) when I had to get shots. To this day I hate needles, but I can suppress the feeling of wanting to scream and panic and flee by making nervous and awkward chit chat with whoever is about to stab me. I like to spread the uncomfortable feeling around.
This week karma has decided to repay me with children who also hate attending nursery and scream their lungs out when it comes time for shots. Oh goodness, I'm sure the other children in the office thought they were in for some kind of torture the way Jason was carrying on! Poor kid was terrified, and I know that feeling all too well. I tried to calm him down, but in the end we went with restraining and bribery.
A few days later it was our turn to be tortured, but at the hands of a government entity instead of a doctor. Our Utah license plates expired, so we both had to go register our cars with Michigan and get new plates. I don't know if they do this in every state, but since both our names are on the titles to our cars, both of us had to be present for license and registration. We got everything all ready and packed up the kids.
Oh my crap.
The line seemed to be moving fairly quickly, so we decided to suck it up and wait it out. Then we met crazy security guard lady. I felt she would have been right at home in the old days when they'd beat your knuckles with a ruler if you misbehaved. As soon as we walked in she barked at us to get a number. So we did. There was a conference room off to the side with nothing but a table in it. The kids went in there and I thought it would be an ok place to keep them out of everyone's way, but no, there she was again, "They can't be in here."
Every two seconds it was something.
"They can't sit there."
"They can't touch the blinds."
I sat them on the ground and they asked for a granola bar.
"You can't eat in here."
Keep in mind they were being good. They weren't noisy, they weren't running around, they were just looking for a place to sit down so they could play with the cars I brought them.
We went outside and ate our granola bars and Brett called me when it was almost out turn.
I've decided that office is where hope goes to die.
And then I wondered about socialized medicine and if people really wanted their medical care run in the same stellar manner that the DMV is run.

It was kind of a long week.
We picked some peaches, which we have been eating loads of daily. They are delicious!
Brett surprised me with flowers one day at lunch. I married a very thoughtful fella. :)
And I have already apologized to my mother for being such a pill to take to the doctor.
I'm looking forward to a less scheduled week!

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