![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
threadwalkerDay 2 of travel... operating on 4 hrs of sleep, sewing adreniline, and at least half way through my 12-pack of diet coke, I get my first ever traffic ticket in Oregon. Location: Interstate 5, Medford, OR, 2:30 pm
The state troopers in Oregon are rabid. I have always respected this and in the score of years I've been gallavanting into Oregon and back, I've had tremendous respect for their road rules. What happened this time?
Well, I was very tired. It was about 2:30 pm (not 2:30 am like usual). And I had 2 screeching distractions in the back seat.
"Mommy, she took my Starfire*."
"Mommy! The sun is in my face and it's burning me up."
"NO! That's my Starfire. You dropped yours. Gimme that back."
"Mommy! The sun is burning me up. I'm getting a rash."
and on and on.
(*Starfire is one of 5 teen-aged superheroes in "Teen Titans".)
And all of this is being screeched at pitches that ONLY small children can achieve. I have my hands clamped to the steering wheel in classic hunched-parent-in-denial pose. I was in the middle of a pack of cars that were speeding. They'd been running up my butt until I sped up to 75 mph with them. Suddenly, they all slow down. I'm litterally hitting my breaks and registering this oddity as I go whipping past the State Trooper who's sitting in the center divide of a construction zone, which proudly states all traffic fines are double in said construction zone.
"Wha? huh? Was that a cop in the middle divide? Did they see me?"
To the background stylings of small screeching voices that may or may not have taken a breath while this was happening.
I vainly slow down and dodge into the slow traffic hoping to blend in and sneak onwards in a sea of white cars. My car is white, which is discreet and increases my odds of making my saving throw. It's a Volvo, which is distinct and counts against me. It's a wagon and fully loaded with crap, so that probably counts against me. And it has California plates; who hasn't heard that, in general, Oregonians hate Californians? Maybe they won't.... eek! No love. I see the State Trooper pull out as I split my attention between my rear view mirror and the traffic around me. I feel like I have a bright neon pink bulls-eye on my car pulsing in time to the screeching monkeys in my backseat. Lights blazing and slowly moving forward, all the other cars peel away until the State Trooper is right behind me.
sigh. I pull over. Oddly, slowing down and pulling over gets the kids' attention and they finally shut up. Blessed silence. Well, there's one thing to be greatful for.
My State Trooper is a short woman and has tough-gal gravel voice. I am the picture of embarrassed respect and utter surprise at being in this predicament. ... I also have a small problem with my registration tags, which pops up in this conversation. The tags on my car are "2006" and expired in ... err... March. Technically, that's expired and .. ahem ... bad.
"Excuse me ma'am, do you know how fast you were going?"
"Well, I didn't until everyone around me suddenly slowed down. I had some distractions in the back seat." I sort of roll my eyes towards the back seat with a very small nod towards the kids. I'm compulsively honest and really don't see the point of lying. I sped. I did it. Pity me or not, there it is. I'm ready to take my lumps and laugh at myself in the process.
Irony? Luck? Not sure which, but at that moment the kids decide to pick up on where they left off...
"Mommy, that's my Starfire, make her give it back."
"Mommy, I'm burning up. I'm gonna die. I'm all hot and rashed all over."
"MY STARfire"
"Mommy, burning up. The sun is in my face." This is screeched while squirming and arching in her car seat. A truly fabulous performance.
I clench up in place, my shoulders automatically hunch up and my eyes bug out. The State Trooper froze, pivotted just her head, and stared at the back seat chorus. . "I see," she said in a monotone. Sometimes cops are sympathetic to the tortured parents, but I think that the construction zone nixed any of that. Returning her attention to me, "May I see your registration and license?" It was a vain hope and it vanished when she asked for paperwork. Oh well, no biggie. I did it and I got caught.
"Where are you heading?" So I told her we were in Oregon to visit Great Grandma, blah blah blah, going home on Sunday, blah blah blah. Coos Bay sure is lovely, blah blah blah.
She flips through my paperwork. My new tags, the ones that say "2008" are stapled to the registration because I've forgotten to attach them to my rear plates AND the last set got stolen right before they expired.
"Ma'am, why are these tags here and not on your car?"
So I tell her my story. And my quandry: what if I put the new tags on and they get stollen? She gave me 5 minutes of "how to" advice on taking off old tags. I was pleasantly surprised and will probably get right on that task sometime this week. Then she told me how her task was to make sure people were driving safely through the construction zone and, being me and since I already knew my fate included a speeding ticket from her, I applauded her on her job. I think the caffeine was puppet master to my strings, but I was very perky and told her that I worked for a pharmaceutical firm and my job was safety, too, so I really respected her job and ultimate responsibility of saving lives. I mean, I wasn't getting out of the ticket, so I might as well relax and chat up the State Trooper. Why make her day miserable?
She nods and heads off to her car.
"Mommy, what happened?"
"Well Nicholas, Mommy was driving too fast and breaking the rules. Mommy is now in trouble with the police woman."
"Oh." pause. "Will she take you away from us?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe you should ask her."
Okay - that was probably punky. I'm not sure who's tail I was yanking, Nicholas' or the State Trooper.
I got the ticket, but it's regular speeding, not construction zone speeding AND she gave me some additional time to deal with it since I was out of area. Wow! That was totally cool.
Then Nicholas asks her if she's taking me away. Short pause, then my State Trooper says she's not, but tells Nicholas that he needs to be a good boy. The conversation captivates Evie, who actually shut up for a while. wow! So the first half hour after this is a conversation about getting in trouble and how even mommies and daddies can get in trouble.
Other Highlights of the drive:
Caboose Motel outside Weed - Nicholas was car sick and we randomly pulled over and discovered this spot. I'll be booking some overnight stuff there for our trip to the family camping adventure in July. Very cool. The kids totally dug it.
Snow in the Siskiyous and Mt Ashland. Snow on the ground on the trees. The trees looked flocked. Very cool.
A roadside sign saying "Vinyl Is The Answer". I giggled over that. It was a reference to house siding.
We dropped into Ashland for an hour and puttered around. Evie lost her new toy and that became an object lesson. We found some book stores and got some kids' books and some hand-made candy.
I love the Medford-Ashland area. I love the Hwy 42-I5 area, too. I'd move there if there was work and if the spouse could be pried loose from the Bay Area... and if we could somehow wave a wand and suck all our family (blood and self-made) up there. Just freaking beautiful. I love the mountain back drop.
Coos Bay is NOT at Hwy 42 and 101. It's about 16 more miles up the road. Feh! Just when I thought I was done I had 16 more miles to go.
It felt like every family member with a freaking cell phone was calling and tracking my progress. And they were confused at how long it was taking. Jeez - you do a 500+ mile trip with 2 kids that have bladders the size of walnuts, constant appetites and a tendency to car-sickness. Humph! Get real, people.
The last 2 hrs of the drive on Hwy 42 were torture. I was so tired and having the worst time staying alert. feh! Nicholas had to go to the bathroom AGAIN in the middle of nowhere!!! So I pulled over and had him aim away from my car. Irony would have been another State Trooper driving by, but that didn't happen. The pull over did perk me up.. all the racing around the car and supporting his weight so he didn't pee on me, my car or himsefl.
We pulled in to Grandma's around 6pm. Grandma and Uncle George were ecstatic. The screech monkeys were overjoyed at being out of the car. They pretty much bounced off the walls until 10 pm or later. I'm not sure what time they crashed. The three of us were sleeping in the family room and I fell asleep mid-conversation shortly before 9 pm. I know I woke up around 10 pm to call the spouse and say something like, "We're here. I love you. I need to sleep. Will talk tomorrow." He said, "love you, too. Okay". I fell asleep again. Even later I vaguely recall sitting up at one point in a zombie-like state and clicking off the TV to the protest to the screech monkeys... who were greatly subdued at that point.
At least I had the sofa to myself for a little while. At some point little girl screech monkey got off the floor because she got cold. She climbed on top of me and burrowed into the comforter to sleep. That was... fairly uncomfortable. BUT...she was so happy to be snuggled in so I dealt with it for as long as I could before I tucked her back in her sleeping bag. This became a recurring theme each night, too. She's so cute.
The state troopers in Oregon are rabid. I have always respected this and in the score of years I've been gallavanting into Oregon and back, I've had tremendous respect for their road rules. What happened this time?
Well, I was very tired. It was about 2:30 pm (not 2:30 am like usual). And I had 2 screeching distractions in the back seat.
"Mommy, she took my Starfire*."
"Mommy! The sun is in my face and it's burning me up."
"NO! That's my Starfire. You dropped yours. Gimme that back."
"Mommy! The sun is burning me up. I'm getting a rash."
and on and on.
(*Starfire is one of 5 teen-aged superheroes in "Teen Titans".)
And all of this is being screeched at pitches that ONLY small children can achieve. I have my hands clamped to the steering wheel in classic hunched-parent-in-denial pose. I was in the middle of a pack of cars that were speeding. They'd been running up my butt until I sped up to 75 mph with them. Suddenly, they all slow down. I'm litterally hitting my breaks and registering this oddity as I go whipping past the State Trooper who's sitting in the center divide of a construction zone, which proudly states all traffic fines are double in said construction zone.
"Wha? huh? Was that a cop in the middle divide? Did they see me?"
To the background stylings of small screeching voices that may or may not have taken a breath while this was happening.
I vainly slow down and dodge into the slow traffic hoping to blend in and sneak onwards in a sea of white cars. My car is white, which is discreet and increases my odds of making my saving throw. It's a Volvo, which is distinct and counts against me. It's a wagon and fully loaded with crap, so that probably counts against me. And it has California plates; who hasn't heard that, in general, Oregonians hate Californians? Maybe they won't.... eek! No love. I see the State Trooper pull out as I split my attention between my rear view mirror and the traffic around me. I feel like I have a bright neon pink bulls-eye on my car pulsing in time to the screeching monkeys in my backseat. Lights blazing and slowly moving forward, all the other cars peel away until the State Trooper is right behind me.
sigh. I pull over. Oddly, slowing down and pulling over gets the kids' attention and they finally shut up. Blessed silence. Well, there's one thing to be greatful for.
My State Trooper is a short woman and has tough-gal gravel voice. I am the picture of embarrassed respect and utter surprise at being in this predicament. ... I also have a small problem with my registration tags, which pops up in this conversation. The tags on my car are "2006" and expired in ... err... March. Technically, that's expired and .. ahem ... bad.
"Excuse me ma'am, do you know how fast you were going?"
"Well, I didn't until everyone around me suddenly slowed down. I had some distractions in the back seat." I sort of roll my eyes towards the back seat with a very small nod towards the kids. I'm compulsively honest and really don't see the point of lying. I sped. I did it. Pity me or not, there it is. I'm ready to take my lumps and laugh at myself in the process.
Irony? Luck? Not sure which, but at that moment the kids decide to pick up on where they left off...
"Mommy, that's my Starfire, make her give it back."
"Mommy, I'm burning up. I'm gonna die. I'm all hot and rashed all over."
"MY STARfire"
"Mommy, burning up. The sun is in my face." This is screeched while squirming and arching in her car seat. A truly fabulous performance.
I clench up in place, my shoulders automatically hunch up and my eyes bug out. The State Trooper froze, pivotted just her head, and stared at the back seat chorus. . "I see," she said in a monotone. Sometimes cops are sympathetic to the tortured parents, but I think that the construction zone nixed any of that. Returning her attention to me, "May I see your registration and license?" It was a vain hope and it vanished when she asked for paperwork. Oh well, no biggie. I did it and I got caught.
"Where are you heading?" So I told her we were in Oregon to visit Great Grandma, blah blah blah, going home on Sunday, blah blah blah. Coos Bay sure is lovely, blah blah blah.
She flips through my paperwork. My new tags, the ones that say "2008" are stapled to the registration because I've forgotten to attach them to my rear plates AND the last set got stolen right before they expired.
"Ma'am, why are these tags here and not on your car?"
So I tell her my story. And my quandry: what if I put the new tags on and they get stollen? She gave me 5 minutes of "how to" advice on taking off old tags. I was pleasantly surprised and will probably get right on that task sometime this week. Then she told me how her task was to make sure people were driving safely through the construction zone and, being me and since I already knew my fate included a speeding ticket from her, I applauded her on her job. I think the caffeine was puppet master to my strings, but I was very perky and told her that I worked for a pharmaceutical firm and my job was safety, too, so I really respected her job and ultimate responsibility of saving lives. I mean, I wasn't getting out of the ticket, so I might as well relax and chat up the State Trooper. Why make her day miserable?
She nods and heads off to her car.
"Mommy, what happened?"
"Well Nicholas, Mommy was driving too fast and breaking the rules. Mommy is now in trouble with the police woman."
"Oh." pause. "Will she take you away from us?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe you should ask her."
Okay - that was probably punky. I'm not sure who's tail I was yanking, Nicholas' or the State Trooper.
I got the ticket, but it's regular speeding, not construction zone speeding AND she gave me some additional time to deal with it since I was out of area. Wow! That was totally cool.
Then Nicholas asks her if she's taking me away. Short pause, then my State Trooper says she's not, but tells Nicholas that he needs to be a good boy. The conversation captivates Evie, who actually shut up for a while. wow! So the first half hour after this is a conversation about getting in trouble and how even mommies and daddies can get in trouble.
Other Highlights of the drive:
Caboose Motel outside Weed - Nicholas was car sick and we randomly pulled over and discovered this spot. I'll be booking some overnight stuff there for our trip to the family camping adventure in July. Very cool. The kids totally dug it.
Snow in the Siskiyous and Mt Ashland. Snow on the ground on the trees. The trees looked flocked. Very cool.
A roadside sign saying "Vinyl Is The Answer". I giggled over that. It was a reference to house siding.
We dropped into Ashland for an hour and puttered around. Evie lost her new toy and that became an object lesson. We found some book stores and got some kids' books and some hand-made candy.
I love the Medford-Ashland area. I love the Hwy 42-I5 area, too. I'd move there if there was work and if the spouse could be pried loose from the Bay Area... and if we could somehow wave a wand and suck all our family (blood and self-made) up there. Just freaking beautiful. I love the mountain back drop.
Coos Bay is NOT at Hwy 42 and 101. It's about 16 more miles up the road. Feh! Just when I thought I was done I had 16 more miles to go.
It felt like every family member with a freaking cell phone was calling and tracking my progress. And they were confused at how long it was taking. Jeez - you do a 500+ mile trip with 2 kids that have bladders the size of walnuts, constant appetites and a tendency to car-sickness. Humph! Get real, people.
The last 2 hrs of the drive on Hwy 42 were torture. I was so tired and having the worst time staying alert. feh! Nicholas had to go to the bathroom AGAIN in the middle of nowhere!!! So I pulled over and had him aim away from my car. Irony would have been another State Trooper driving by, but that didn't happen. The pull over did perk me up.. all the racing around the car and supporting his weight so he didn't pee on me, my car or himsefl.
We pulled in to Grandma's around 6pm. Grandma and Uncle George were ecstatic. The screech monkeys were overjoyed at being out of the car. They pretty much bounced off the walls until 10 pm or later. I'm not sure what time they crashed. The three of us were sleeping in the family room and I fell asleep mid-conversation shortly before 9 pm. I know I woke up around 10 pm to call the spouse and say something like, "We're here. I love you. I need to sleep. Will talk tomorrow." He said, "love you, too. Okay". I fell asleep again. Even later I vaguely recall sitting up at one point in a zombie-like state and clicking off the TV to the protest to the screech monkeys... who were greatly subdued at that point.
At least I had the sofa to myself for a little while. At some point little girl screech monkey got off the floor because she got cold. She climbed on top of me and burrowed into the comforter to sleep. That was... fairly uncomfortable. BUT...she was so happy to be snuggled in so I dealt with it for as long as I could before I tucked her back in her sleeping bag. This became a recurring theme each night, too. She's so cute.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 05:03 pm (UTC)We've been VERY careful to obey the speed limits up here...We *still* haven't made it to the DMV to get OR plates yet. Need to do that SOON! We finally got the car and truck checked and certified for OR laws, so the next step is the drivers license test and new plates.
I remember having my own screech monkey in the car so many years ago. I went to an SCA even WAY north at the top of CA. Rachel did nothing but scream for 4 hours at a time. She was too young for talking yet. So I feel your pain! I was lucky that I didn't have two of them as she got older... ;-)
I hope you have a fabulous visit! Aaron and I drove through the pass not too long ago and there was snow on the ground and trees...very beautiful! We also stopped in Ashland to goof off for a while. Founds some cool shops!
Have fun!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 06:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 08:40 pm (UTC)At least you weren't in the middle of a Rosary like your mom was that time!
Glad you've been and made it back. I couldn't possibly drive that far on that little sleep...
no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-17 03:15 am (UTC)(2) My profoundest sympathies. You know I'm not a parent, but I'm an aunt. With experience.
(3) Don't you wish you could buy mouth plugs as easily as earplugs?
no subject
Date: 2007-04-24 09:59 pm (UTC)On no. 3.. truly? no. There are so many children out there with speach impediments or who have a physical/mental challenge that prevents them from enjoying the power of verbal language. I wouldn't want to curb my kids' ability to communicate. On a certain level, I revel in how articulate they are. That's actually the overwhelming reason I don't clamp down on them when we travel. Making noise is one of the only things they can do expressively from their carseats. I don't want to take that from them. Tune it down? yes. Make it so that physical discomforts don't drive them to screech? yes. (And my first stop after my pull-over was to get some window shades for the backseat so Miss Screech Monkey could hide from the sun. To get some lunch for the kids. And to make Mr Screech Monkey find his own action figure.) But shut them up all the way? no.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-25 03:25 am (UTC)