Oh yeah. We bought a car.

In the midst of running the Johnson infirmary over here, I forgot to mention that we also had to buy a car right after Christmas. Fun times. We had it coming. You might recall my little deal with my beloved 1999 Sentra. Well, it was in the shop twice in two weeks before Christmas, and we were starting to put more money into it than it was worth, so it was time to move on.

Everyone's all "You got a new car!" and "Wow--big Christmas for you!" and yes, we're excited to own a car that isn't from the 90's, but we weren't wanting to buy a car just yet, so we weren't exactly summersaults and rainbows over here about it. (Okay, Phil might have been doing a few summersaults over it.) That Sentra saw me through pretty much my entire adult life and reminds me of quality make out sessions with Phil, road trips to all over, and milestones like driving to my first job. I'll miss it, but would take a reliable car over a sentimental one any day. That being said, we're so, so grateful for the new car (a Honda Pilot, or "Pilot car,"* as Moo calls it) and also glad we sold the Sentra to a sweet lady who needed it.

So today when Phil was post-call I got to go to the DMV. I'm not being sarcastic when I say "got." I've been cooped up with two sick kids for weeks, often without a car because one of ours has been in the shop. So, while everyone else there was cursing under their breath and complaining about paperwork, long lines, and "Mexicans"** (I kid you not), I was Pollyanna. I got to read two Cooking Light magazines from November and December that hadn't had time to read. I got to return texts and emails uninterrupted. I got to be around other adults. It was all kinds of awesome. 

And let's be honest: the DMV is great for people watching. One lady was registering SEVEN cars, claiming she "has too many kids and her husband likes to collect cars." Uh huh. Another guy was registering a trailer and the woman behind the desk had to ask if it was one he lived in or just one he pulled behind a car. Only in Alabama. 

On my way to the DMV, I braced for the worst, but hoped for the best and came out right in the middle, finishing up in just over two hours. I thought the 17-degree morning might keep some people indoors, but I guess others had the same idea.  

In a sick, backwards kind of way, I was expecting (wanting?) Phil to experience a slice of my life for the past two weeks, which has included a very whiney, discontent toddler and a very fussy, unpredictable infant. What he got was paradise. The toddler was pleasant, creative, and silly. He read books in his room by himself for 30 minutes ("Read by self. Daddy go in living room," he said after Phil asked to read with him), and then he PUT HIMSELF DOWN FOR A NAP. He has NEVER done either of those things. Ever. Phil walked in to check on him and there he was asleep on his chair with a book in his lap. Here's the picture Phil sent me:

With a high of 21 degrees, it was a stay inside in your PJs kind of day.

Noodle, while not a champion daytime sleeper, was happy and cooing. Basically, for two hours my kids were angelic creatures that you only read about in books, and Phil was able to eat lunch uninterrupted by himself while both kids were awake. How does that even happen? I think he must have slipped something into their milk. Good for him, though, right? The kids must have sensed my presence when I returned because they were both up within the hour. But I was a better mom this afternoon because I got to go away by myself for two hours, even if it was 17 degrees and I was at the DMV. 

*The day we bought the new car, Moo spent an hour just playing in it and cried when we made him come inside because it was getting dark. I'm pretty sure he was more excited about it than anyone else in the family!

**A word about the guy next to me complaining about "the Mexicans." I wish I had thought fast enough to tell him my husband was from Mexico. Sometimes a little lie is worth it. Instead, I just told him to "watch it," which was pretty great too since he was twice my size and age.