You can't make this stuff up...

***Sometimes this blog is only about stuff I want to remember and tell to the kids at family dinners when they get older.  It really isn't that interesting, just one of those crazy days that seem to be increasingly common!***

So today, the first day off of school, we decided to run some errands.  The original plan entailed waiting for a quick service at the dealership.  The swagger wagon just hit 90K and needed some TLC.  So we roll in, all coordinated in red, white, and blue for the holiday.  We had just finished daily mass with all the members of the greatest generation who always love seeing patriotic young kids on Memorial day.  (One year one guy slipped us a $50.  True story.)  But everything pretty much went downhill from there.

Scene 1-

Upon arriving at the dealership the guy opened up my hood as children spilled out of both sides and gave out a, "Ummm....you're going to need a new timing belt."  I knew this was not good.  Not good for my pocketbook.  But okay, detachment.   Let's talk about what really counts.  "How much time is that going to add?" I asked.  "Oh, about two or three hours."

Well, we were planning on waiting so then I realized I needed to switch gears.  I ask about rentals and the service assistant says she'll call Enterprise.  Great.  We go and wait in the waiting room while I shoo all my kids into the "kid room" so they avoid watching Judge Judy and other highlights of daytime television.  Five seconds later I hear a huge "THWACK" and Momo is on the floor.  She ran directly into a glass wall at full speed and was knocked to the ground.  She's screaming, everyone within a 30 mile radius is staring, and I put on my best game face and try to calm her down.  Ok, minor problem but we work through it.

Scene 2-

They have decided to give me one of their minivans but just need to see my insurance card.  No problem.  We all move out to the cashier area to check out.  The card isn't in my wallet, so I hand the baby to a child (big mistake) and run out to get it from the car.  Ruh roh.  It isn't there either.  I checked every nook and cranny and start hyperventilating thinking that I could have been pulled over without proof of insurance.  Not good.  Keep in mind I am raking through my disaster of a car while some dude is sitting in the driver's seat ready to pull away.  I'm muttering to myself about getting pulled over and he helpfully points out that the cops in South Carolina are much worse than in Georgia.  Great.  Anyway, I get back into the cashier office- which was totally visible from the car- to find the baby screaming and children fitfully shoving a sippy cup in his mouth.  What the?  Turns out he had been dropped and wasn't all that happy about it.  I tell them I don't have an insurance card over the din of the screaming baby and they tell me to call my insurance company to fax something.  OK, things are looking up.  I just need to get the baby happy first.

Scene 3-

We return to the lounge and the guy with the textbook is really happy to see us.  I start feeding the baby and call my insurance company.  I finally get through and it is the slowest, yet ever pleasant, person I have ever encountered.  "OOOKAY, let's double check all your personal information from the last ten years" sort of thing.  Children are shoving snacks in my face,  I am desperately just trying to be nice but get the dang fax sent, and it is taking so long the dealership people are coming over saying, "Just give us the policy number!  That will be enough."  I kind of got the feeling they wanted us out of there.  Go figure.  I finally say something like, "Please sir, I just need to get my 5 kids out of this waiting room as fast as possible" while he continues to lecture me on why I need to carry my insurance card.  All the while my children, out of the corner of my eye, are talking to the dealership manager who's picking up their trash and chatting with them about school.  He's a nice man and I know his wife but I just wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and die.

Scene 4-

We load up carseats and got the hell out of there, faxed copy of my insurance card in hand.  I didn't take anything out of my car that I would need for the next 3 days- no makeup, no garage door opener, no stroller.  We just booked it out of there.  Can't wait to show up again and return the car!