I got stopped for drunk driving.  Not lately.  It was actually many years ago.

I was recently reminded of the incident when I saw a sticker on the back of a “mom car” that said, “I’m not drunk, I’m passing snacks and whoopin’ butt.” (Okay, it didn’t say “butt”–but for the purposes of this column, let’s say it did.)

As I giggled, the memory came of the time I was stopped for suspected intoxication.  What had really happened was Wes and I had gone out to dinner with the children, and we had met at the restaurant in two separate vehicles.  The restaurant had an ice cream machine, and both children had ice cream cones as we left.  Our home was about 8 minutes from the eatery, but it didn’t take 4 minutes until there were screams of, “It’s melting!” coming from the backseat.

As I tried to pass napkins back and quell the turmoil while still driving, I suddenly noticed red and blue flashing lights in my rearview mirror.  Sigh.

At the time, Wes was a police officer. In fact, he was the supervisor of the person who was pulling me over.  I knew Wes was behind me, so I was sure he would also stop to help me explain.  He did not.  He smiled and waved as he drove by.  I did not return the wave.

When the officer walked up to my car, I was relieved to see she was also a neighbor of ours (which meant to me, at least, she might not make me do a field sobriety test on the side of the road with two screaming toddlers and puddles of ice cream melting into the carpet of the minivan).  I explained the situation.  She stifled her laughter, smiled, and encouraged me to hurry home…at the speed limit and between the lines. 

During this season of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I wish you all the best.  Moms just keep it between the lines–and Dads, be ready to clean the ice cream out of the van if you don’t stop to help.

Until next time,
Karen