Sometimes, it can be really hard for me to decide on something. I hmm-haaa about things over and over weighing out the good and the bad, stressing over the details and all the angles of the decision, but then when I finally do decide, I’m good. The worrying doesn’t weigh me down, while I think of the good and bad, it doesn’t stress me out, I put on my game face and go with it.
The perfect example of my decision making in the works occurred on Monday of last week. My grandmother, who is 89 and in the late stages of Alzheimer’s is not doing well, not well at all. My mom called me to tell me the latest news and that they were arranging for hospice. That was enough to get the wheels turning in my mind and later, the wheels turning on my Tahoe!
I realized that I needed to see her again. I knew perfectly well that she would not know me, I knew she may not even realize I was in the room with her, I knew that she could be so out of it, that she would spend the entire time sleeping, but I had to go, despite all the family members trying to convince me otherwise. Including, but not limited to my dad saying, “She’s not going to know you…and she’s hitting people.” A sad time, but I had to laugh! As if this 77 pound lady who may hit me, but barely has the strength to sit up, would be enough to make me say, “Oh my, yeah, I didn’t realize she was hitting people, you’re right. I won’t go, I don’t like being hit.”
So, I did. I told Charley what I wanted to do, he made sure I had a jack for my car, I packed as little as possible (which is a completely obnoxious amount of stuff for a 4 year old and twin 3 month olds), loaded up and began our journey on Thursday morning. Was this a huge undertaking? Certainly. The biggest issue was that we were moving so slow since I had to stop and nurse the babies so often (they are still eating about every 2 1/2 – 3 hours during the day). Still, we were chugging along just fine when the first interesting event occurred…
Now, I may be all for adventure, but smuggling is nowhere on my list. No offense to any smugglers out there, it’s just not my thing, too many details to worry about and too much to carry, really. I don’t have time for such an extra curricular activity. “What is she talking about?” you may ask yourself. Read on, my friend, read on…
I pulled into the left lane and I was behind two cars who quickly hit their brakes due to the cop hiding on the side of the road. I followed suit, but realized I wasn’t even speeding. I was going 67 to be exact! So, on we go when I realize the copper pulls out behind me. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I said enthusiastically. I was not in the mood for this, at all. I wasn’t even close to speeding, I had finally gotten all 3 children to sleep, and we were still in Georgia! We continued on for a bit, I moved into my right lane and the cop remained in the left. I thought he must be going on after someone else, since I was obviously not in the wrong. He passed my car and suddenly hit his brakes and dropped in behind me. Have you seen Super Troopers? That’s what I thought of instantly! Then, the lights flashed.
Thinking I was about to have a major argument about the speed limit, I prepared my most innocent face. He appeared at my window, I rolled it down, and he said, “Oh there it is. You can’t see it laying down like that.” He was referring to my front license plate, then asked why I didn’t have it attached to the vehicle. I told him it just hadn’t been put on yet and he came back with something I never, ever expected…
“Smugglers will scrape off the front two numbers. Are you a smuggler?” Jaw drops…blank stare…brain processing information.
“I have twins,” I replied, as if this is the answer to all questions.
“So, you might be a smuggler of babies,” he said jokingly. I just nodded, I mean what do you say to that? He then went on to say that I might be stopped all the way across the country because my license plate wasn’t attached and all the cops across the good ol’ US of A would think I was a smuggler. “So, if you get stopped, that’s why.”
“OK,” I replied. Again, what else was I supposed to say? He turned to walk away, then quickly turned back and asked accusingly, “This is your car, right?” Jaw drops…blank stare…brain processing information. “Yes.” And off he went.
I wasn’t even out of Georgia yet, people! This was not a good omen! As we entered Alabama, the speed limit dropped to 55. People were passing me very quickly, but I thought, if I’ve already been pulled over for smuggling, what are the odds of me being pulled over for going 60 in a work zone! Not good, I say…not good.
So, off I went traveling at a mere 55mph…
with my precious cargo!