And then out of nowhere....

Ali decides "santa" is bringing a puppy dog for Christmas.

Um, no.  Santa brings toys and doesn't bring anything "alive"

Mitchell, also wanting a puppy dog, says "why?'

"Because.....it would....get so so sick...on the sleigh.  It's too cold in the sky for puppy dogs.  Only Santa and his reindeer and all the toys"

I'm seriously telling both children on a daily basis NO DOGS for Christmas.  Conversations have included these gems:

*You have to be 5 to have a dog.  It's basically a law.

*You cannot get dogs for Christmas.  No one can.

Then they watch Lady and the Tramp, where the Mrs. gets a dog for Christmas.

*Well, Santa definitely doesn't bring dogs.  Not for anyone.  It's his rule.

*NO DOGS

*NO DOGS FOR CHRISTMAS

*You have to be so. much. older.

(to Mitchell, "so much older" means "hairy".  The other day, he lifted up his shirt and said, "look at my back, mom." Cautiously, I rubbed his back, and said "it's niiiice" He said, "do you feel that? I"M GETTING HAIIIRRRRYYY!"

oh. my.  Yes!  You are getting hairy, Mitch!  To Mitchell, body hair=dog. car. driving. going to school everyday. marrying Ali.  going on a mission.  Yesterday, hairy meant building a boat like Nephi.   This is something we discuss all the time. If I say, "no" he says, "can I when I'm hairy?")

So after finally convincing both children, a puppy dog was not happening for Christmas (and I'm sorry! But I don't even really like dogs unless it's Daisy or her offspring! And I'm allergic to an insane amount of them) Santa shows up at Mitchell's school.

"GUESS.  WHO.  CAME. TO MY SCHOOL!?"

"Who came, Mitch?"

"SANTA!"

"Did you sit on his lap?"

"YES! And GUESS WHAT?!"

"what?"

"Santa said we CAN get a puppy dog! We can! We can!"

Ali, also having the comprehension of a 5 year old (seriously, it's frightening) says, "A puppy dog! YAYAYAYAY!  Santa gets puppy!"

Me, frantic, "oh, no non non no nnNO NONON ONONN NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Mitchell, "Yes Mom! Dogs DO NOT get sick on Santa's sleigh! They never do! Santa says he keeps them 'wheel-ee' 'wheel-ee' warm.  He does!"

Santa.......Santa.....we are supposed to be on the same page here, friend.

Actually, my initial reaction was to call the school and yell at them because this was  months of coming up with ridiculous excuses to both children and spouse of why getting a dog is a terrible, no good, very bad idea.  The barking, the peeing, the tearing up everything, the whining, the hair cuts, the vet, the sickness, the dog period, ohmygosh the dog period, the yard (the yard! The pooper scoopers! THE POOPER SCOOPERS!)

I made a declaration:
"As mother and main (read: only (scary, right?)) cleaner of this household, I nix the dog idea right. in. the. bud. right now.  RIGHT NOW! There will be no mention of dogs or puppies or any other living thing (remember the fish.  REMEMBER THE FISH!?) for as long as I deem necessary unless A.  dad takes the dog to work everyday until it's potty trained and doesn't ruin anything.  B. Mitchell can do the poop-scoop thing.  C. They are old enough to feed it, love it, and generally take care of it.  In essence, we will revisit the dog idea when I am certain this whole responsibility thing will not fall on me exclusively.  Which, if we're talking realistically here, means probably never."

I'm so mean, I know.  But I would be a lot more mean taking on a dog I never wanted, lets be honest.

Of course the whole "Santa and the dog" emergency happened to fall on a very busy day.  I accidentally shipped a package via amazon.com to my "default address" which happens to be the mean 'ole lawyer-ing up-ing on *my* dime apartment complex of the devil.  These people are the worst. And they really don't like us.  Like at all.  As in, not even a little tiny bit.  The feeling is mutual, believe me.

So, in a haste.  I call fedex.  Who ships through USPS.  Who can't reroute the package.  The printing label is already printed. And before I can even blink, OH MY GOSH IT'S LEFT THE SANDY OFFICE!!! IT'S ON THE TRUCK! Someone stop it! Someone help me!!!

Frantic, I call the local store and the manager answers at 6:45am in the morning.  I'm almost in tears, and he's like "relaxxxxxx, it hasn't left the office.  It's not even here yet.  ......We just update the tracking things randomly.  ..........No, I'm not really sure how it all works."

"So, can you reroute it?"

"um, no."

"well, I *did* update my address with you people.  Someone over at your corporate office told me it'd "probably" be okay, but I'd really not rather chance it.  Will your system ship to my new address by default"

"uhhh, it should I guess.  I don't know.  Probably not."

"so, what can *I* do.  Can you hold it for me at the office?"

"yeah, I *could* but I can't do that till it scans in here, which it hasn't.  And usually we just scan it here and it goes out the same day.  But I'll watch for it.  What's your name/old address?"

I gave him my info, and expected a lost cause.

And then, Mitchell had school, and "Santa" threw me a massive curve ball. I'm still really mad at "Santa".

And then, USPS man calls.  "Hi, Meagan? Your package is here.  We just marked it as 'attempted'."

"Seriously, you're the best USPS man that has ever, ever lived!"

"Juuuust make sure to bring your photo I.D. to pick that up."

Funny story.

Ali likes to destroy everything play in my wallet.  Toss all the cards out.  Usually, I catch it and put them all away.  And then, one day, I did just that.  And then, later that day, someone said "can I see your I.D.?"  and I was like, "Sure......What the? What! Noooo! Where is my license?! Oh, my gosh! I don't have I.D? I have a temple recommend? .....No? I have a Sam's Club card? ...See?? It has my picture on the back when I was 19?........ Seriously? You'll take that? Oh my gosh thank you I'm sure I'll go home and find my drivers license somewhere. I shouldn't be driving without it."

....

....


..............

months go by and I'm 99.9% sure Ali threw it away (she just loves doing that).

And so, yes, I've been driving around without an I.D. for around 2.5 months because I'm *hoping* my driver's license would magically appear somewhere like under Ali's mattress or in some random drawer somewhere.  But after deep cleaning a handful of times, it hasn't shown up anywhere.

So, I call the DMV "I lost my I.D. what documents do I need" "Proof you exist legally.  That's basically it.  Unless your address has changed" "oh, it totally has! Because this is the best day ever!"  "then you'll need 2 bills in your name"

fine.

Except *no* bills are in my name except tmobile (who's online site is down temporarily for maintenance but only for people who have to have a temp. password sent to their phone.  Which shouldn't have happened in the first place, because I've had the same password there since I got my phone, at 18, but apparently I was typing to fast/frantically and got locked out of my account.  Niiiiiiiiiiiice. Or someone hacked my account.  Hopefully not. As this day was going, it was probable)

And rocky mountain power, where my name is spelled wrong.

GAH.  So. I check the mail hoping to find the water bill, which is also in my name, but no dice.  I'm relatively happy to find that 3 Christmas packages have arrived- I was not an idiot when ordering those. Also, a note from amazon saying I was denied for their credit card because I don't have any accounts open for a significant length of time, or some other nonsense.  I barely remember applying.  It was a fleeting thought of me thinking I should build my credit, at midnight or 1am, even after I researched and found that it was one of the worst cards you can own.  I'm not really sure why I do anything late at night.  So I laughed at the notice and threw everything in the car and went to my mothers, who had some shampoo for me, was talked into traveling the state with me, and who called me "frazzled" about 1.5 million times.  The first time was earlier that day, after I thought I locked myself out of the house after I thought I couldn't lock the door when taking my son to preschool after Mike stole my garage door opener, which is the last one that works because we can't figure out how to change the batteries.  And all of the keys open different doors.

Also, I was sick with a massive cold and didn't want to do anything anyway.

So, la-la-la-ing and stop-hitting-each other-ing, we arrive at Grandma's house.  Mitchell and Ali are so excited to tell Grandma and Papa they *are* totally getting a puppy for Christmas, while I am trying not to curse "Santa" in front of my children.

Meanwhile, on my laptop trying to find bills in my name that don't exist.  I call, again, the DMV, who says a bank statement is fine, so haha! In hand with a Rocky Mountain Power bill that seems way too high for winter, and a bank statement that should really have more moolah in it, we all drive to the DMV to get my license to get my package so I don't have to deal with the evil apartment complex while simultaneously trying to tell Mitchell and Ali they are not getting a dog this Christmas.  I said, "Mitchell! I called Santa (the real one, the one who doesn't actively try to destroy my life and my children's childhood) and told him that mommy and daddy wanted to get you a dog later.  When you're hairy! Mitchell's not having any of it.  "I'll get you one for your birthday! When you're five!" He's mad at me, and insisting that a dog is still happening in 10 days. (10!)

The DMV has to retake my picture 3 times ("no, really, I swear I'm not blinking.  It's just my eyes").  I had no idea about the picture thing and wasn't wearing lip gloss or blush.  And I was sick.  And apparently blinking.  It's going to be just stunning, I'm sure.

And then go up to the counter, and surprise! They can't take 2 things from online.  Only one.  I must have looked like I was going to cry.  The nice lady (who was really sympathetic about the whole "Santa" thing, and suggested to buy an electric dog) said, "do you have any mail in your car?"

I do! I have 3 packing slips AND a rejected credit card application statement!

She says, enthusiastically, "Go get them!"

So I run to the car, grab the 3 packing slips (see how it says "billing address" here.  It's the same as "shipping address" that counts right? I should totally remember to check that those 2 things match in the future) and the reject letter and she says "this will work!"

I can't even believe it.  No, I really can't.

Meanwhile, my awesome mother is having a heart to heart with her grandkids at the DMV.  Something about dogs and Santa.  And something clicked.  And Mitchell took me up on my earlier bribe of a dog for his birthday.  Which is going to have to happen, unless he forgets.  If he forgets, heck-to-the-no.  I am, however, betting he (nor Ali) forgets.  July.  I have till July to enjoy being dog-less.  Dang "Santa" is ruining my life.

And so, with a paper copy of my new license in hand, I go to the USPS office and wait in the forever and a day long line.

I get to the counter, "I'm here to pick up a package"

"Do you have a slip?"

"no."

"A tracking number"

"technically, yes.  But I didn't bring it.  The guy on the phone said all I needed was a photo ID"

"fine."

And she takes my name, and goes and finds my package and takes my ID.  Looks at the ID, looks at me.  Says, "did you.....change your address...."

"today? yes. today.  I am that awesome, yes."

And finally, I left the post office.  Went home and then to activity days where only one girl showed up and then realized......

that package was shipped in two. separate. boxes........

Here we go again!