Last week was a rough one on all levels. I was stretched too thin, everything was bearing down on me, there are paperwork deadlines approaching faster than we can figure out what the ever-loving heck we are supposed to do in regard to the post-adoption bureaucracy, and we had an issue to deal with regarding a school situation with one of the kids. In the midst of all of that, SOMEONE (hint: it was Kraig) thought it was a fine time to go to the DMV with 4 kids and get government-issued photo id's for the new three and have Emma and Francisco take their driver's permit tests (that they hadn't studied for one second for, mind you).
Once I had checked the 3 high schoolers out and he had checked Angela out, we met at the DMV (during my planning period, not like I needed it for... you know... PLANNING). As we start the avalanche of paperwork, sifting through the tsunami of documents stuffed in brown envelopes, we realize that we don't have the social security number for the child who has been in our care the LONGEST, as in, SINCE BIRTH. I had reminded Kraig to bring it, but he had not. (I'm not throwing him under the bus, this is important for the story later.)
I left the DMV and drove home to get it, entertaining thoughts on the way of, "I could just get on the interstate and head north and drive till I got tired of driving or hit Maine. Someone else can deal with my classes the rest of the day, someone else can deal with the kids and deadlines." {Thank goodness I quelled that impulse because it turns out I had left my wallet AT the DMV, so I only could have driven till I ran out of gas and there's really nothing much interesting in Riceville, TN. Plus, it wouldn't have been a very dramatic run-away.} By the time I got the number and headed back, I was more rational but still very on edge.
I walked in the DMV to find Kraig and the agent just laughing and carrying on with each other like they had known each other for 55 years. She was a short African-American lady with close-cropped hair and a deep, no-nonsense voice. When I walked up, she said, "You look like you done." I told her that she actually had no idea how done I really am. She then said, "He's the one doing the work here" and I explained to her that I had driven all the way home and back because HE didn't bring the card I reminded him to bring. She then told me that "He still doin' all these papers" and I retorted that I was going back to the school afterward to continue dealing with a situation while he went back to a quiet and calm office where his family life didn't invade his work life.
At that point, this DMV agent set aside all the papers she had been holding and leaned over the counter to us. She said, "How old is the kid who isn't here?" We told her 13, and she said the following:
"Every one of those kids is old enough to be home alone. They got phones?"
I told her they DID, until I took the phones of the two who failed the test.
Her: "Take them kids home and turn on the tv. Tell them not to open the door no matter what, to sit there and watch something on tv. Then YOU--" {at this point she turned right to Kraig} "take HER out. She needs ta' get out. Take her to dinner, make some time. She need some time."
I sort of chuckled and she rounded on me and said, "I ain't kidding. I know that look. You need ta' get out and take some time."
It was funny, it really was. It was also sobering to think that this lady who doesn't know me from Adam, this DMV government worker, sensed how close I was to full on breaking apart (not just cracked), and she reacted. She put aside everything she was doing to impress upon us how serious she was.
Here's the crazy part, though..... When Francisco went back up to get the results of his test, he was called to a different counter number. A different agent waited for us there and this lady was GONE. Vanished. In fact, the agent asked me where his paperwork was and I pointed to the counter where we had been and said, "She had it." The agent looked around, confused, and asked me who, acting like there had never been a "she" at that counter. I told him the paperwork was there, and it was, in a stack. He went over and got it, finished our transaction, and that was the end.
No lie, I think she was an angel. Seriously. And today I told this story to a friend whose kid was also not successful on the permit test (she has been to the DMV NUMEROUS times with him) and she told me she had NEVER seen a lady who fit this description.
So I guess the moral is, you may entertain angels unawares, or they may meet you at the DMV and give you sanity and relationship advice. Whether or not you take it? Well that's up to you.
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