This was originally published on March 29, 2009 when I launched my site. Before that I blogged elsewhere, but this is where the journey of blogging really began for me. Thanks for joining me as we cruise the streets of life in my minivan.
That was really corny, wasn’t it?
One year and four months ago, I became a minivan mom. It was a necessary step. I was roughly 15 months pregnant with Landon and there was no way on God’s green earth that three car seats were going to fit into my SUV.
Lee and I sat in the grey-walled room of the car dealership and worked out the details of the sale with a very kind man and all the while my stomach churned. I mean, it’s just a car. It’s no more than a mode of transportation, right?
Then why was it so painful to transition to driving a minivan? I asked this question many times in the weeks following our purchase (that and why in the flippin’ world do minivans cost so daggum much?)
After Landon arrived, I had to admit, the van was extremely convenient. Especially given the fact that Sloan figured out quickly how to buckle his own seat belt, thereby making our transition from home to van much more manageable. And we stuck with the standard black minivan with a grey interior because somehow, in my distorted little mind, that seemed just a little bit cooler.
Today, I am very resigned to my status as a minivan mom. I even completed the look by arriving to my son’s preschool several times this year still in my pajamas. Niiiice. Might as well look the part, eh?
You see, the problem is that my mom was a minivan mom and, well – no offense mom – but she was my mom. You know, the older more mature, wiser woman in charge of guiding me through the waters of life. Certainly I’m not old enough to be in the position. It was only yesterday I was heaving a loaded bag of books across Baylor’s campus, worrying about my impending finals. How did I become that mom?
But alas, I am that mom. There’s no way around it. I have three babies (the oldest of which is no longer a baby and preparing to enter elementary school! Don’t even get me started on how I feel about becoming a PTA mom) And, I gotta say, as much as circumstances permit, I am rockin’ the minivan.
So here’s my encouragement to all you minivan moms out there struggling with the stigma. Your minivan doesn’t lower your cool factor – oh no. You, my dear friends, drastically up the minivan’s hot factor. Minivan’s don’t define us – we define them! And I say they’re hot! Can I get an Amen?
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