Why I’m Proud of my Mini-Van

A Mom-car.

Yes, I drive one.

And not only do I drive one, I’m PROUD to drive one.

At my two-year-old’s gym class recently, a father asked me what I thought of my minivan. I immediately began to extol all of its unending virtues: the electronic sliding doors, 100+ (or so it seems) cup holders, the built-in backseat viewing mirror. Not being the smartest can in the six pack, I talked through several of the features that bring me joy daily before I noticed his eyes glazing over.

What? A man’s eyes glazing over in a conversation about cars?

“I meant…how is it to drive one. I mean, did you feel like you were selling yourself out? A loss of identity?” he asked.

“You mean, because it’s a Mom-car?” I returned, beginning to understand his line of questioning.

His eyes gleamed with recognition. “Yeah, exactly. It’s a Mom car. It’s certainly practical, but my wife is concerned that people will only see her as a Mother.” His tone implied that so would he.

I looked at him with what I hoped was a blank face, hoping that he couldn’t see what was going on in my mind. Here’s what I was thinking:

Yes, I am a Mother. I chose to have children, and I want the world to know it.

• I chose to grow outward – through my children – instead of feeding the “me” and growing inward toward my Self.

• I chose to add more layers and more complexity to my relationship with my husband as he grows as a father and not just as my friend, lover, and companion.

• I chose to embrace the changes bearing children made to my body: expanded hips, tummy, and shoe size…..in addition to the changes raising children have brought to me physically: hunched shoulders (from holding babies), rough knees (from crawling on the floor with toddlers), and dry hands (from constant bottle-washing).

• I chose to sing along with the Wiggles instead of trying to instill a love of Maroon 5 in my boys.

• I chose to make new friends with other Moms while trying to find time to connect with my non-Mom buddies.

• I chose to create a nightly routine that includes lots of tickles, giggles, stories, and kisses from Mom in exchange for some of my career ambition.

Becoming a Mother was a choice. Being a Mother is a choice. And it’s a choice I revel in every day.

All I said was – “You’re right; you can’t beat the practicality of a minivan for young kids. And the image – well, I guess it’s how you look at it.”

And I walked away to do some monkey jumps with my son.