About five years ago, this video marked the first portrayal of the minivan as something to actually desire–who wouldn’t want a swagger wagon?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4
Just this week, another video by The Texting Yoga Pants, known for their perfect portrayal of real-life mom problems, released this hilarious video about the same modern family conundrum: to minivan or not to minivan?
I am definitely in the throes of this dilemma. When my husband and I talk about our long-term finances, we know a new car is in the cards if we want to add baby number three to our brood. We’re not expecting or trying yet, but I can’t get over this fact–we will need a minivan…it’s going to happen.
My current car is a Nissan Rogue. It’s a cute little car for moms with cute little kids. I mean no offense to moms with minivans. I know plenty of hot mamas who can whip their minivan/12-person bus around a Starbucks drive-through like they’re starring in Fast and Furious: Minivan Moms Gone Wild. There are other options, like a bigger SUV, but the minivan includes more features we want, according to the pamphlets my husband brought home from the dealership. I just wish it didn’t (and that he didn’t bring it home).
Once I get a minivan, you can put a fork in me, because I’m done.
Once I start driving it, I will no longer think of myself as a “cute mom;”all potential for feeling sexy will be forfeited. I won’t be on the receiving end of hooting and hollering–I will instead become invisible. I’ll be just another woman in a semi-huge car, lugging all of her children to and from sports practices–or the grocery store, or wherever else moms go to take care of their families. Who cares? In a minivan, I will feel like nothing more than mother: a woman who has given birth so many times that she needs more seats to accommodate her offspring and their sippy cups. This is the last nail in the coffin of my youthfulness.
One of the reasons I can’t let go of my bias towards these vehicles is because it’s me who has to drive the minivan. Not my husband. Now, I want to strap his ass in an equally enormous car and plaster MAN WITH OFFSPRING all over it.
Another reason for my push-back is I don’t have much left that is just mine. I count a “mama bear” coffee mug, a sparkly wine glass, blogging, and a pink razor as my own. Everything else belongs to my children. Even my current car.
My CD dock is currently loaded with “Philadelphia Chickens,” my backseat is full of toys and baby wipes, and my cup holders already hold sippy cups. I also haven’t washed this car in six months (OK, two years). Still, I chose it because it appealed to me. I feel like a normal person when I drive it, with or without kids. What will happen when I have to drive a minivan without kids?
Truth is, I know I’m going to love a minivan for all of the other reasons. It’s a perfect family car. Friends who own minivans say to us, “It was designed for a woman!” or “We only regret not getting it sooner!”
I’m not in a rush to upgrade my car. I’m enjoying every minute of my nice-sized SUV. Maybe by the time I have to worry about how many stick figure family members to stick on the back window of my minivan, I will be able to confidently redefine “mother” as a sexy lady with a permanent top knot, stained clothing, and singing into a breast pump.
How did you feel when you got your minivan? If you don’t have one yet, or refuse to get one, tell us know why not!
