When we discovered the surprising presence of a second child in our future, a strange change began to come over my husband. At first, I pretended I didn’t see it. The occasional mentions of mini-vans in conversation were laughed off, and I ignored the warning signs.
Then came the internet. He was searching the internet for min-vans. I thought it couldn’t hurt any one as long as it was in the privacy of our own home. I mean looking at a mini-van didn’t mean he’d make me drive one or anything. I thought a little car shopping was normal in a man.
But two days ago, he asked me to TEST DRIVE ONE! This is serious y’all! He’s considering bringing a mini-van into MY DRIVEWAY and my family. To make matters worse, the mackerdoodle seemed to actually ENJOY the mini-van, and pointed out the windows, chattering in her baby language.
So I fear that I am about to become a mini-van mom and that it will bring with it the mini-van mom mentality. I fear that the mini-van will carry with it the “stepford” chip, that will irrevocably turn me into that suburban soccer mom I have always wondered about. While 50% of the moms I know who drive mini-vans don’t fit into that category, 50% do, and that’s pretty even odds in my mind.
It’s strange. Vehicles are usually not very important to me. They are a tool to carry me from point a to point b and run errands in between. I’m not car proud, I don’t care if people eat or drink or sleep in my vehicle. I owned a 1986 Ford Escort for four years, and for the last year I owned it, the muffler rode around in the hatch back. I didn’t really care. So why do I care about a mini-van? Why do I feel that I am abandoning a part of what’s defined me if I own a mini-van?
Maybe the first half of this post should give me a clue. And maybe I just need to admit that I’m proud, and be prepared to be humbled.
Life More Abundant 