So I alluded to this in my "Wiggles" post a few days ago but I thought I would elaborate a little tonight.....for laughs if nothing else. And because it's kind of a unique story and I want to be sure to share it with Jenna when she is older.
So, on Thursday last week I left work early, raced home, threw our luggage in the car, raced to the bank, raced to my parents house, picked up Jenna and we were off. It was approximately 2:00pm and the Wiggles concert was at 6:30 in Sacramento (approx. 3 hours away). We were going with my sister-in-law Kim and Jenna's cousin Madison. We were excited!!
So we get on Herndon and head for the Freeway. I'm obeying the traffic laws, my hands are at 10 and 2, I'm traveling at a safe and legal speed. I've got my navigation system set. We should get to the concert with time to spare. We could take. our. time. We were less than 5 minutes from my mom and dad's house when we get to this hill/overpass that goes up over the railroad tracks. As we approach the hill, Jenna gets excited and squeals..."Fast Mommy...go Fast!! Go fast like ROSE!! (Rose is our friend who Jenna is convinced drives fast) Hands up Mommy...HANDS UP!!" So.....I do what any good mother would do. I GUN IT!!
We race over the hill at 72 miles an hour with our hands flailing wildly in the air. We are throwing caution to the wind. We are having the time of our lives. There are wonderful carefree squeals of delight coming from the back seat. I'm reveling in my daughters joy. Life is so wonderful. I am thrilled. I am happy. I am woman. I am flying. I am........getting pulled over.
Yep, at the bottom of the overpass I spot a motorcycle cop with his radar gun pointed right at me. I can almost envision the bewilderment on his face as he spies this crazed woman in her mommy-mobile flying over the overpass at 70+ mph with her arms flaling. As I pass him I watch him put his radar gun away and pull out behind me....his lights flashing. I pull over. A little voice from the backseat says "Is this Madison's house?"
"No." I reply quietly, "No Jenna, this is not Madison's house."
It takes all my strength not to bang my head repeatedly into the steering wheel as the officer approaches my window. I feel like an utter moron.
The officer informes me that I was going over 70 mph, checks my license and registration, and gives me a ticket. I thank him. I really have no good excuse.
"What happened Mommy?" comes an inquisistive little voice behind me?
At this point....I figure the best thing to do is turn this into a learning situation for my impressionable toddler.
"Mommy was going too fast Jenna." I explain. "Mommy got in trouble. Mommy needs to sloooooww down..........."
"Mommy is surprised the nice officer didn't ask for a drug test."