Death by Passport

Surely my demise will come via my attempts to acquire U.S. Passports for all five Krulls.  I mean really.

I'm sure I have friends out there rolling their eyes at me right about now... "Here she goes being all dramatic again."

Yes.  Here I go.

I swear to you that I'm am not totally inept.  I have three kids who depend on me and they're still living.  They're usually even fed and dressed even.  But for some reason, getting their passports has turned into the most ridiculous series of totally avoidable roadblocks. Usually ones that I have set up myself, as if just to produce comical blog content.

Previous Passport Events summarized {Here} and {Here} and {Here}.  Go catch up, I'll wait.

So Thursday, the culmination of all past events would come to an end, I had hoped.  All pictures, applications, birth certificates, and checks accounted for.  Both parents would be there, as date number one fell through days before when I, along with our three children, stood Gary up on the first attempt.  Oops.  We were in the home stretch.  I could taste the victory... or at least some salty sweat from my sweat mustache as I pulled three sticky Crazies from the back seat.  We walked toward the Passport office.  Gary was there.  All the pieces were in place.  Let's. Do. This.

We're in.  There's not even a wait!  All the stars are aligning.  I can feel the fist pump rising.  We are so checking this off our list.  We are winning!!!

After a few stumbles, such as being reprimanded for using green rather than black ink, which she kindly offered to photocopy the applications rather than re-filling them out... dear Passport Office Worker spoke those final blows.  "Do you have their pictures?"

Of course I do.  AT HOME?!?  Seriously?  What have I done?  I have everything in hand.  I have woken a napping baby up to get here in time.  I WOKE THE BABY!  I did everything, had everything.  Why oh why did I leave their pictures at home?  WHYYYYY????

So.  We have another date at the Passport Office.  This week.  There will be more sweat mustaches.  There will be waking of the baby.  There will be victory, or so help me...