Making family time work at the DMV.

June 19, 2014



There's nothing quite like a family trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles.

We are officially a one-car family now (more on this fun tidbit later) and Chris needed to wrap up the sale of his beloved vehicle. When Chris picked me up from work and we picked up Liam from daycare, the plan was for just Chris to go to the center and take care of it. Because who wants to tackle a toddler in front of 100 of those who share your zip code? However, we realized that my name is also on the title, the DMV had our old address on file and my license had our old, old address listed. 

Have I mentioned we've moved three times in our four-year marriage? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

We decided that we would all go so that I could take care of my address change and Chris could take care of the car and we would be all up to date with the driving gods.

Or so we thought.

When we arrived, we were met with a room full of people. FULL. It always amazes me how many people need to be at the DMV at any given moment on any given day. We each took a number and sat down. Liam, however, did not want to sit down. We coerced him with a granola bar and several serving size portions of goldfish, but he didn't want the goldfish. So we gave him some water, but he didn't want the water. He wanted the goldfish. So we gave him some goldfish, but he didn't want the goldfish. He wanted the water. And this, my friends, is the story of my current life with a toddler.

Chris and I took turns passing off Liam who, by the way, is very vocal. (Read: loud.) I know for a fact that we were each hoping our prospective number was called first. I won!

I went up to the counter to take my picture, because we picked THE day that the entire state of Arizona was implementing new driver's licenses. On THE day I decided to go with second-day hair and minimal make-up. This afternoon was just a winner.

"On the count of three..." said the lady. So I smiled. Awkwardly. For about 30 seconds. And the guy next to me laughed. Because she wasn't counting.

And then finally, "One, two, three..."

There is no more awkward photo-taking moment than that of taking a driver's license photo. Because it is for practically FOREVER and so there is just way too much pressure. 

I was told to go back and take a seat until my number was called again. About this time, Chris' number was called, so I took Liam. At this point, all he wanted to do was go outside. It was 107 degrees and no living being in the entire city limits wanted to be outside, but Liam did. And he wanted to NOW. I pointed way too excitedly at every poster on the wall in hopes to distract him. (Chances are high of him being an organ donor and always following the speed limit.) We also stood in the doorway to catch the hot breeze as guests entered. He excitedly waved hello; most of them cared less; I was starting to sweat.

Chris was done and I was up. At this point, we agreed as a family to get Liam the heck out of dodge, so Chris drove around with him while I went to step two of my simple address change. I spent 10 long minutes changing my address and then I was told to go back to the original counter to get a temporary license. When it was printed, they told me to check it. I looked down and realized they had my maiden name as my last name and my last name as an extension of my maiden name.

Of course.

They told me I have to go back and fill out a new form and bring in basically every form of identification I own to prove that it is in fact my middle name and last name in order for me to receive a correct license. 

So, I'll be back. (By myself, with coffee and a magazine.)

With our current season of life being crazy and hectic and busy, times like this that are typically dreadful turn into some of the most enjoyable moments of the week. The three of us are all together out of the house for a good chunk of time, even if we are tackling the mundane and passing off a melting toddler at the DMV.

But I think Liam will have to wait until he's 16 to be invited back.


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