This afternoon, I loaded the kids into the car and we headed to my parent's house. It's about an hour away, so I can always count on all three of them to take a little nap. Even the most stubborn children cannot stay awake when faced with the sleep inducing effects of a nice, warm car..the lolling back and forth... the mid afternoon sun streaming through the window... watching the snowcovered fields blur past your window. See, you're getting tired aren't you? Never fails...
So, kids are asleep and I stick a Pink CD in and crank it up. Normally, I don't care for pop music, but I like her.
She looks like she'd be fun to hang out with, dontcha think? She would do all the crazy stuff and I'd be the designated driver. Her music is fun to sing to and since the children are unable to tell me to stop, I was singing along, at the top of my lungs...
"...you talk real loud but you ain't saying nothing cool
I could fit your whole house in my swimming pool..."
I'm sounding damn good, lamenting the fact that I'm too old for American Idol. I'd blow them away with my version of Pink. I'd need some kind of gimmick though...what could I do? Colored hair extensions? A real funky outfit? Like a signature jacket, or...oh...crap. Crap. Cop. I hit the brakes like I'm guilty. Glance at the speedometer...55 miles an hour...Crap. Speed limit...35 miles an hour...CRAP. I can't get much guiltier. Maybe he's on lunch break and didn't see...oh. He sees me.
He pulls in behind me and I contemplate speeding up. Could my old suburban outrun his patrol car? There's no way he could catch me once we were on those icy back roads! Then I see the newspaper headline: MOM ATTEMPTS TO OUTRUN COP WITH KIDS IN CAR and beneath that there's a picture of me in handcuffs. And really, my hair is kind of crappy and I don't want anyone taking my picture. So, I pull over. (Even though sometimes I think a few weeks in a nice jail cell, all alone, would be quite nice.)
Mr. Cop saunters up to my car and holds his radar gun out at me. 55.
"You were going 55 in a 35 mile an hour zone," he says.
"Uh..." was my clever response.
"Why?" he asks.
"I was singing," I say. Yes, really. Mr. Cop laughed at me.
"Nothing wrong with that. Can I see your license and registration?" I frantically dig through my glove box. I have registrations from the past 5 years. I have insurance slips from 5 years ago. Of course, I can't find the current one. He takes the slips from last year and goes back to his car.
Nick wakes up.
"Why are we stopped?"
"Because a cop pulled me over."
"Oh. Where you going too fast?"
"Oh. Is he getting you a receipt?"
"Um...yeah. A receipt."
Cop comes back. Cop gives me a ticket. My very first ticket, EVER in my entire good girl life. He explained that it was originally a 6 POINT ticket and a much larger fine, but he put it down to 44 in a 35, 1 point and a $120 fine. Thank you Mr. Cop. I think.
"Drive safe now."
I turned Pink off. It's her fault. If I were listening to say...Nine Inch Nails, I probably wouldn't have been singing or fantasizing about being famous. So, actually Pink is to blame here. I'm going to send her the ticket. $120 is nothing to her, right? For me, that's like my weekly grocery money.
Then, on the way home tonight, I saw a deer get hit by a truck. That's an image I could do without, thank you. It brought back horrific memories of a car vs. buck incident that I had the misfortune to witness as a child. I'll spare you.
Uh huh. Good day to be on the roads. Think I'll be staying in tomorrow.