Insert several F-bombs here as I slowly watch my self-esteem plummet.
Let me start my saying that I rarely say "never," but I have always said NEVER to a stupid mini-van. Not just for the obvious reasons, but because riding in them makes me car sick because they sit so damn low, so owning one would resign me to permanent chauffeur status, even with Josh in the car.
But, alas, I am getting one.
Let me start my saying that I rarely say "never," but I have always said NEVER to a stupid mini-van. Not just for the obvious reasons, but because riding in them makes me car sick because they sit so damn low, so owning one would resign me to permanent chauffeur status, even with Josh in the car.
But, alas, I am getting one.
Let me be clear: I am not getting one anytime soon, but I am trying to come to terms with the fact that it is going to happen. Sort of like pooping on the table, peeing on yourself during working out, boobs sagging, and stretch marks, mini-vans are one of the inevitable facts of motherhood.
Insert a few more f-bombs.
Insert a few more f-bombs.
Back in October 2010, we bought a brand spankin' new Maroon Honda Pilot. It is an awesome car. We bought it with the intention of starting and growing our family in it. With that in mind, we upgraded to the built in DVD player with a Bose sound system and headphones. That's how we roll. Unfortunately Moose does not use the headphones, but having the DVD player has proven to be priceless on long car trips.
Here is the thing though. We travel a lot. Our car is 3 years old and has 67,000 miles on it. Crazy, right? That is what happens when you live far away from family. We travel all of the time and our shortest trip is 5.5 hours.
When we pack the Pilot, especially for the holidays or to spend a few weeks with family in the summer, it is like stuffing a sausage. We end up packing the backseat to the point where poor Scooter only has about 2 square feet to rest his weary body. When we open the trunk, we have to stand underneath the hatch with our hands out to catch falling luggage.
I know, I know, you are probably thinking, pack less! And you are halfway right. I could probably do a little bit of a better job cutting down on Moose's wardrobe. BUT, even if I did that, it only eliminates one little...okay, one giant...bag. We still have the suitcases, the toys, the pack 'n play, the BOB stroller, the DVDs, books, us, the dog, a giant cooler, etc, etc, etc. It just can't fit.
And as we think of adding child #2 to the equation, there is no way in hell that we are going to fit into our Pilot. In comes the damn mini-van.
More f-bombs.
I know, I know, all of you have mini vans and you love them. You wear your soccer Mom badge and Mom jeans proudly. You rock out in style every single day in the preschool pick up line. You glow every time that you hit your little button to open all of the doors because apparently opening doors is too much for Moms. I get it. It's the path that my life is taking.
Admit it though: Even though you are walking billboard for mini-vans now, you had to come to terms with it at one point. You might love it now, but there was one point, before you had your first (or second) kid, where you declared, "I will NEVER drive a mini-van."
And it makes sense. It is a hard one to swallow. It is like kissing the last part of the "old me" goodbye. Two years and 10 months ago, I gave up by body being mine, first through pregnancy and then through having abarnacle toddler. I kissed my flat non stretch-marked stomach and nice boobs goodbye. I sent my free time on a way one trip. I gave up not peeing during exercise. I traded in my stylish clothes for yoga pants and hoodies even though I don't have time to even think about yoga, let alone do it. I stopped listening to normal music so that we can listen to Elmo in the car. I moved my nice furniture out of the family room to make space for colorful, loud plastic toys. I no longer stay up, let alone out, late. I traded in my entire life when I had a baby.
And that is okay. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I love being a Mom. I just want to keep my damn car. Is that too much to ask for?!
Apparently the answer to that is yes.
Insert more f-bombs.
And as we think of adding child #2 to the equation, there is no way in hell that we are going to fit into our Pilot. In comes the damn mini-van.
More f-bombs.
I know, I know, all of you have mini vans and you love them. You wear your soccer Mom badge and Mom jeans proudly. You rock out in style every single day in the preschool pick up line. You glow every time that you hit your little button to open all of the doors because apparently opening doors is too much for Moms. I get it. It's the path that my life is taking.
Admit it though: Even though you are walking billboard for mini-vans now, you had to come to terms with it at one point. You might love it now, but there was one point, before you had your first (or second) kid, where you declared, "I will NEVER drive a mini-van."
And it makes sense. It is a hard one to swallow. It is like kissing the last part of the "old me" goodbye. Two years and 10 months ago, I gave up by body being mine, first through pregnancy and then through having a
And that is okay. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I love being a Mom. I just want to keep my damn car. Is that too much to ask for?!
Apparently the answer to that is yes.
Insert more f-bombs.
As a side note, when I Googled "someecards mini van," there were some hysterical cards! I would highly recommend doing it if you are bored sometime. :)