Minivan Shame

A young woman at my CrossFit class recently discovered that I drive a minivan.  She seemed disappointed in me as a person.  I don’t blame her really.  After all, I once was also adamantly opposed to owning what I considered to be ultimate declaration of surrender to a lackluster existence.

 

I held onto my resolve never to drive something so embarrassing even after the birth of my oldest. But then we took a road trip to MT in which we had to attach luggage carrier to the roof of our small SUV so that we could bring our large dog and luggage and all of the baby paraphernalia. Months later, circumstances were such that we had to get a new vehicle. I was faced with a choice – being Clark Griswold or lame minivan mom.  I chose the latter.

 

Truth is, when you have kids, your life and your priorities change so much that you willingly compromise your pride for the sake of convenience.  Yet minivan ownership tends to be a divisive issue on the parenting front. People usually fall into one of five categories regarding minivan ownership.

 

The I’m never going to own one group:  I am laughing at you behind your back. I said that too, remember? I know, you’re all, “No really, I’m never going to own one.”  Uh-huh.  How many kids do you have? One infant? You have 8 more years of car seats and that’s if you don’t have any more children. For 4 ½ of those years, you will have to bend down to buckle and unbuckle them in yourself.  That fact alone may wear you down. Never mind how many times you will have become a contortionist in order to free your children in a crowded parking lot without door-dinging the car next to you.

 

The I drive a SUV with a third row or a pick-up with a backseat group: Really? You are mocking my minivan? I have news for you – you caved too.  Yes, your vehicle may look different than mine. You may believe it is less dorky, but would any person without children actually drive it on purpose?  Probably not. Here’s the deal, we parents need space to get the kids further away from each other and us. Plus we have to haul all their stuff.

 

The I drive a 5-seater and that’s all I will ever drive group.  I admire your conviction, but let me ask you something. Does your family have to drive more than one vehicle if your kids have friends with them?  Better yet, who do you call if you need some one to pick your kids up from school? You mock us minivan mamas but you need us – admit it.

 

The I love my minivan group. You people are hardcore and I appreciate that. Honestly, I am not one of you.  Kudos to you for fully embracing where you are in life.  I confess that I have some minivan shame to work through even though I have driven one for 8 years now.

 

The I drive a minivan right now but I’m selling that puppy as soon and it seems logical group.  You are my people.

9 thoughts on “Minivan Shame

  1. I definitely have always had a touch of minivan shame but, It makes life with three kids and a father who is often with me bearable. However, recently I spent a week in New Jersey tooling around in a Suburban, huge, with three rows of seats. And, I will admit it (excuse my language) I felt like a pretty badass mommy.

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  2. Love this blog. I have always said that I wasn’t going to drive a minivan just as you. I really thought I hadn’t until you are made me have to admit that a 7 passenger Suburban is just a mini van in disguise. ugh…. I’m just thankful that I only have the 1 child left now and I’m back to a 4 door car again!!!! Yea!!! Thanks for the laugh.

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  3. I’m in the, “We admit the Hyundai Santa Fe isn’t sexy but it’s paid for and does the job” group as well as the “All right fine, as long as we have to drive an SUV we’re getting motorcycles too” group.

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  4. Pingback: A Marxist In A Minivan | love and biscuits

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