My name is Biz e-Mom and I own a minivan.
It took me a while to say those words and accept that being a minivan owner is now part of who I am. Sure, cars and material objects don’t define people, but they sure as heck make a first impression. The minivan generally makes the impression that one is a soccer mom. But, I am not. Really. I mean, both of my kids can barely walk, let alone play soccer. They are young. I AM YOUNG! I guess that is why I fought the decision tooth and nail, at first.
After the birth of our second child, my husband casually suggested the idea of making our next car purchase that of a minivan. I gasped in horror at the mere suggestion of it and promptly shut him down.
“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “We are cool parents.”
However, the existence of two convertible car seats in the second row of our Ford Escape prevented grandma or anyone one else from riding in our car. That in turn, led to a funeral-like procession of cars any time more than two of us wanted to go anywhere; restaurants, shopping, you name it.
I realize as type that this that all of the above could sound like excuses. I can also see the symbolism I placed in the minivan and the negative connotation it represented for me. Despite it all, I am here to tell you that I have grieved the loss of my youth and accepted my minivan purchase with open arms. I passed through the stages of shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, and acceptance. (You know, from the Kübler-Ross Grief Cycle).
Shock: “Hell-to-the-no we are not buying a minivan!”
Denial: “We are not minivan parents!”
Anger: “Why can’t we afford a Cadillac Escalade?!”
Bargaining: “Maybe if we get a Honda Pilot we will get the room we need and still have an SUV.”
Depression: (Luckily, I am not so out of touch that I was in this stage long.)
Testing: “Maybe if I get the minivan in black with tinted windows it will resemble a pimped out ride…”
Acceptance: “I am happy with my Chrysler Town & Country and owning it.”
Five minutes into driving the car I was in love. It has so many features, it is almost like a space ship. I haven’t yet read one of the three user manuals to figure out how to radio NASA with my voice recognition but I am sure it can do it. The car can do pretty much everything except wipe my kids’ butts. From the two DVDs, heated leather seats, Sirius satellite radio, navigation, 30 GB hard drive, Stow ‘N’ Go seats and 12 cup holders (so far that I can find), my ride is pimped to the fullest. And, yes, when I am driving by myself in my soccer mom van blaring Jay-Z, I know what people are thinking.
I just don’t care.
P.S. If anyone from Chrysler is reading this, my husband and I will happily go toe-to-toe with those Swagger Wagon parents at Toyota.