How many placeholder posts can I get away with this month?
It can’t be good that I almost forgot about posting.
A couple of days before his seventeen-month birthday, I finally went and got Zeb’s birth certificate, so that I can get him a passport, so that I can take him with me to a conference in Rio de Janeiro. (Did I mention that conference? Fodder for another post).
For some reason I thought that the state would send us a copy of the birth certificate. For the record, my husband thought so too, so either we both misunderstood the birth certificate women at the hospital or they were mad at us for waiting till the last minute (a couple of days after leaving the hospital) to give them Zeb’s official name and somehow diverted the birth certificate.
I got my first passport when I was 13. We had to keep going back for one reason or another. The first problem was that the birth certificate my parents had wasn’t the official one, but rather the pretty one from the hospital. We don’t have a pretty one from the hospital either. We do have the option of paying $60 for a special “Republic of X Native” heirloom birth certificate.
For some reason, as I was wandering around a campus of state buildings with poor signage looking for the Vital Statistics office, I was thinking about how much worse this would have been in the last week of my pregnancy when I suddenly got to the point where it was difficult to walk. It’s a good thing you don’t have to get the birth certificate before the birth is what I am saying.
Tags: globlopomo
