Soo since the social security office has picked the very convenient (not) time of 4pm to close everyday (I obviously-dumb of me-assumed it was 5pm or even six like any other business…) and we don’t get out of my son’s school parking lot until 3pm (and naturally 2 kids out of three have to stop to go potty) we don’t make it in time.
This is just great because I have a very limited time to take care of this (seeing as my son is almost one and he doesn’t have a social security number yet…don’t ask me why…also don’t ask me the addition hoops I have to jump through if I don’t get this done before his first birthday…). Annnd, don’t tell me I’ve had ten months to go get one when it wasn’t received right after his birth…just don’t okay!!
I had planned to finally get this done and had planned this specific day for weeks (if not months) because all the paperwork (including baby’s passport) were completed and because the nanny had promised to be there…
Well, it was clearly not going to happen today (either)…
Instead I go to Ross (A brand name clearance place) because like what else would I have done? This store is not in the best area and surprisingly my kids are not the best behaved. My almost three year old has an aisle 7 meltdown about a Barbie (glam and glitter edition…when did she get old enough to care…and how can me she is so girly?!), or was it over some “shopkins” in a pink and purple ice cream truck…and Baby’s diaper leaks (what else is new) all over the new black “Uppa” stroller fabric I special ordered (the color called “Jake” and very difficult to get your hands on) while my 5 year old just wants to go home and eat and “wash his hands” (“not here mama-at home”, maybe not the most unreasonable request).
After a good cry over some too small dresses (what ever should I wear for all the upcoming birthdays and spring events?) I realize defeat and turn towards the register with, instead of dresses, a shopkins truck, a new pair of blue pants size 12 months and some stale chocolate chip cookies on sale-a glowing example of some stellar parenting!
This is when my husband calls to let me know he will be late (as in extremely late because of some workshop…gee, thanks for the heads up!)
The next day we try again!
After school we head straight towards the social security office downtown!
I tell my kids the office is in a bad area of town (I’m not completely lying) just so that they’ll behave. “There might be “bad guys” there and you never know what they can do, especially if you are not holding your mom’s hand at all times”. I tell them they have to be quiet the whole entire time or the police might come and have a talk with them…or worse…!
Good Job momma! -the kids are officially terrified…
Buut, it works (minus the nightmares that follow…that and you know an unhealthy fear of our beautiful downtown, oh well).
They are both holding on to my hands for dear life as we cross the busy street (plus points for mommy!) after we double check that we locked the car (check again mama!) and they are glued to my sides as we pass the security guard at the front office. As we go to the bathroom (but of course, including dirty diaper…) they keep telling each other to be quiet (my son is actually scared his sister will be going to jail).
The great thing is that we get in to see an actual person who is actually helpful, not a minute to soon either since it’s passed their 4pm closing time (luckily we cruised in before they locked the place up) and the guy we talk to shockingly seem (semi) normal.
The kids; especially the three year old, are tired of behaving and she refuses to sit on the chair provided in front of the opened glass (plastic?) window, baby is crying (have you ever notice how hard it is to sit down with a big, squirmy baby-especially one who is crying-in a baby carrier?) and the five year old is venturing out (further and further from me) letting me know that no bad guys or police officers seem to care…
The guy behind the counter is surprisingly cool though and he even goes as far as asking for parenting advice…from MOI…
Apparently he has a 2.5 year old who tantrums (!) a LOT…
Easy there you worry wart 2.5 in my own humble experience is the worst age ever…ever! He’ll get over it (well…)
At last we get out of there with the promise of s number! Now we just have to make it to the car without getting kidnapped or thrown in jail!!
Mission accomplished!! And celebrated with this year’s first family BBQ!!