My son’s First Holy Communion was this past weekend. We did get him a gift (a crucifix that he himself picked out that probably cost me an arm and half a leg but have no idea since I had a sizeable credit at the jewelry store and didn’t ask). We did put him in a suit, complete with an adult tie I had altered to his size because all the children’s’ ties I could find locally sucked. We did have a party where notably absent was his Godmother *, but present were a couple of friends of my SIL who happened to be in town so my SIL invited them along…uh…sure…I guess they can join you even though they don’t know Doodicus from a stain on the floor.
Actually, the entirety of the weekend seemed to be consumed by this one 90 minute event because Saturday the school scheduled full dress rehearsal and pictures at 8:30 a.m. Yes, in the morning. Thank you baby Jesus for letting me go through this the first time with a boy. My friend, a hairdresser, had at least two girls scheduled prior to dress rehearsal to get their hair done up. Before 8:30 a.m.! (Note to self: really talk up the wonders of a pixie cut to my daughter in six years.)
Of course, I was running slightly behind Saturday morning because I couldn’t find his dress shoes that I had bought months ago and stored somewhere safe so I was driving hell bent for leather into town. Just as I was coming around the bend, my soccer-mom senses started tingling, but it was too late. The city cop already had his patrol car in gear waiting for me to pass. I swore. (Yes, I said Fuck. Out loud. While my son was in the backseat on his way to his 1st Holy Communion dress rehearsal, wearing a tie and suit. A memory to be sure.)
Since I was barely running on time, thanks to my Mario Andretti tendencies, I wasn’t going to let a speeding ticket put me behind. My exit was coming up. I turned down the street. Cop just then turns on his lights. I continue down the street to my next turn. I turn, and turn again. I pull into the rear parking lot of the church – still with the patrol car following patiently behind. I threw the van into park, told my son to run up to where they were supposed to meet; handed him his jacket for his suit; and instructed him to RUN! because goddammit! I just ignored a cop trying to pull me over to get him there on time!
It was wishful thinking on my part to hope for a warning. While my ticket was $132, it could have been considerably worse because:
1) I was speeding in a construction zone (63 in a 50);
2) I didn’t have my registration on me **;
3) And my tags were expired **
Sparring Partner was pissed. Also, I’ve had to complete several forms in my various job applications about the status of my driver’s license, which has been accident and ticket free for years. So now that’s been shot to shit.
The thing is, we weren’t THAT late. It’s not like they would have told him he couldn’t participate. Totally not worth it. That $132 would have certainly been better spent on a botox treatment or my trip to Boston or some new shoes.
When was your last traffic ticket and what did you do to “earn” it?
* I wasn’t planning on this post being about traffic violations, but more about the Godmother situation, but that’ll wait.
** Sparring Partner had earlier in the week taken the registration out of my car to take to the County Treasurer to get my new tags. The new tags and the registration were at home.