There are two types of moms: the ones who love minivans and the sane women. I know that may be offensive to some, and is a simplistic way of viewing such an honored profession, but it depicts how much I loathe having to drive such a beast.
“Then why did you buy one?”
Actually, I was hoodwinked into buying it. It was a when I was pregnant and feeling all maternal-like, so since I had already tossed out my care for my looks and my sense of style, I agreed. This is deceptive discussion between my husband and me:
Me: “You don’t fit into my snazzy SUV when the rear-facing baby seat is behind you?
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Me: “Fine then, I’ll give up all chances of being a cool mom for the two times a year you will be driving my vehicle.”
Nothing heaves you into the Mom role more effectively than hoisting your 5-foot pregnant patootie up and behind the driver’s seat. At nine months, I really thought there’d be no room for my belly and the steering wheel unless I put blocks on the gas and brake pedals. I used my tip-toes instead.
After the baby was born, and my logic skills returned, it was too late to change my mind about the city bus I was driving.
The only thing to do was to proudly paste ona bumper sticker that read, “I will never drive a minivan.”
I thought a good laugh might help me enjoy driving the beast. The sticker remains; however, the only people laughing are those in my rearview mirror. Glad I could give them a giggle, while I plan a strategy to avoid parallel parking on any busy street.
The next problem was one I thought I’d overcome with time. Never with any of the four previous cars I’ve owned have I run over so many curbs. In fact, I’m fairly certain I’ve bounced over every curb in Johnson County!
So after 10 years driving this piece of lopsided metal, I gave in to the fact I would never learn how to manage turns in my minivan. I finally gave in at my last oil change and signed up for the annual tire alignment fee. One charge and I’ve got unlimited times to get my wheels straight.
Since I’m bearing all of my driving flaws, let’s talk about parking the Titanic.
If I had a dollar for every time I had to back out of a parking spot and try again, I’d be one rich woman, who still couldn’t park. I think the city should consider offering me a parking challenged handicapped spot. Not that I’m putting down those who have disabilities; but with a special wider spot, I’d truly reduce my damage of city property, protect other’s automobiles and small animals could walk in peace.
Now that my children are no longer in booster seats, my dream of getting rid of my semi-on-4-wheels can come to fruition.
Me: “What? Both of you refuse to let me get a new car?”
Me: “Don’t you want to have a cool mom?”
Kid #1: “Nope.”
Kid #2: “Have you ever met you, Mom?”
The kid has got a good point. That title is long gone!
Stacey Hatton adores emails where people agree with her. She can be reached at LaughingWithKids@yahoo.com.