Monday, March 5

Our Vanity

I am not sure if I've put this out there yet, maybe in passing, or maybe I've purposely kept it to myself. I guess I haven't said it loud and proud because it has taken me awhile to come into my own in this area of life. 

I put it off and put it off, knowing it was the inevitable when we found out we were expecting Jude. I put it off so much that we didn't pull the trigger until the day Jude was born. You heard right. As in push baby out. Check. Bond with baby. Check. Go buy mini van. Check. All in a days work, thanks to George. 

We saw Jude and panicked and new we had to have a way to get our boy home from the hospital that didn't involve squeezing a car seat into the back seat of our truck. Thank goodness for those post delivery endorphins, where everything is grand, "What pain of pushing out a 10 pound baby naturally? In fact, lets have another baby!" or I might have never agreed to purchase a family vehicle. 

Not sure what my reservations were. Probably just all that is associated with a mom who drives a mini van. I had the idea that there would be nothing cool about it. That I was all but throwing in the towel to a life of blahness, soccer balls, Baby On Board sign stuck to the back window, and a life lived in mom jeans.

It wasn't until recently after spending some time in the South, where huge SUVs rule the roads, that I have really started to actually embrace my role as mini van driver. And dare I say, that I now drive proudly from point A to point B? Yikes. 

When I pull up to preschool pickup flanked by monster SUV's, I am always reminded why I love everything the mini van stands for. Comfort for my kids, convenience, and practicality. Because hello, Yukon XL, I mean is any of that really necessary. What is the purpose? And if you drive a monster SUV, more power to you, but I will most definitely be walking with my head held high when we meet at the gas pump. 
There is one other mini van driving parent at Nyah's school (yes, only one) and our mini vans are what sparked our bond. Outcasts stick together. And yes, we have fist pumped each other after pressing our automatic doors as we watch our kids poured in from a distance.
Nyah calls our van, "Vanity" which couldn't be more appropriate.
I guess you could say its official. I have crossed over. Judge as you might. But how far we've come from the days of strapping the car seat into the back of the Jeep.

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