One more time: I will NOT drive a minivan.
I may have the cool factor of…hell, there’s nothing to compare it to. It pretty much doesn’t exist. I may not know what makeup is or how to use it anymore. I may think it’s perfectly acceptable to wear flip flops all summer and Uggs all winter. I may not know that my hair is capable of any style other than a pony tail. I may need to drop 20 like, two years ago.
But I’m way too freaking cool for a minivan.
So, via Facebook this weekend, I learned of another friend who bit the dust. The vehicle dust.
She’s buying a mother effing minivan.
That’s it. All of them.
Every single parent I know.
They’re all going down.
Moms want the convenience. Dad are pussies sadly thrilled by the what they’re packin’ under the hood and seem to forget that they’re their wives’ bitches, cruising along all sorts of ball-less, and instead pretend they’re holding their own in the Daytona 500. Yes it’s light and it has V8. No, it’s not a Masserati. A little bit of pickup does not equal cajones, boys. You left those at the dealership with the keys to your old Accord. You’re still driving a minivan, even if you like to think you can floor it off the line.
From the day my mom brought home that God awful Dodge Grand Caravan and declared it the best thing to ever happen on four wheels, I’ve been anti-minivan. I was in fourth grade. Or something. Point is, I knew it then and I know now: minivans are bad.
Pause, for a moment, pause to thank my father for putting his foot down when my mom wanted to replace the Caravan with yet *another* minivan. ‘Cause if he’d been all, “Sure, honey, whatever makes you happy,” I’d be dead from laying in traffic I would have been driving a freaking wus wagon at 16.
And holy shit, let me just tell you that it would have been as bad for me then as it would be for me now.
Why? WHY? WWWHHHYYYY?
I get the standard answers.
- The convenience. Those doors! They just pop open with the click of a button.
- It’s so low to the ground. My two year old can climb right in!
- So safe. I can get in, shut the doors, lock them and buckle my kids in. Then I can climb right into the front seat without ever getting out of the car.
- The gas mileage. It’s wonderful!
Well, here’s what I have to say to all of that:
- My sorry ass can swing the back doors of my SUV open. I’ve got a mean set of Mommy biceps from hauling around two little kids at the same time. And being that my biceps are the only muscles left on my ever-softening, fat ass body, I need to use them. As often as possible. And P.S. my SUV has the magic lift gate, so you’re only 1 for 2.
- I will hoist and heave my two year old and three year old up, unreasonably high, into their car seats all damn day long, to the detriment of my back. And neck. I will literally put my back out heaving their asses into their car seats if it means I can roll in an SUV.
- Dude, if you can literally walk from the back seat to the front seat without ever getting out of the car, somethin’s seriously fucked up about your ride. It’s called a big ass center console. You need one.
- Screw gas mileage. It may cost me seventy bucks to fill my tank, but it’s money well spent. Buying new shoes for the kids isn’t that important. And listen, bitches, before you judge me and my lack of concern for the environment, go back and read my half-assed attempt at blogging for Green Month. I love Mother Earth, damn it. I use fully green cleaning products, I ditched the paper towels, I shop at Whole Foods and I clean my face with cloth napkins when I eat. For the love of God, I’m one step away from wiping my ass with washcloths. If my only serious middle finger to mother earth is rolling in an SUV that gets 14 miles to the gallon, then I think I’m doing just fine.
“But Laura,” you might be thinking, “You only have TWO kids. What would you do if you had a third?”
I’ll tel you what I’d do. I’d use that third row of seats – the really shitty ones that leave no leg room and are a bitch to get to. The ones that, when we have out-of-town-company, give us all reason to point and laugh as our guests crawl to, asses in the air, like dying dogs. And I’ll put one of my kids back there.
And then, when I have to buckle them in, I’ll climb to that third row like a dying dog myself, ass all up in the air, skirt getting caught on the arm rests of the middle row, cellulite showin’. That’s what I’ll do.
And then when I go to Costco, I’ll stack the shit all over my kids. Because, obviously, I”m going to lose all of that awesome space in the back if I have to keep the third row of seats in my car.
Or I’ll just buy the damn extended SUV. Because, let’s be honest here, an Escalade ESV still has a higher cool factor than an Odyssey. Just sayin’
And also, if you were wondering what I’d do if I had a third baby, YOU must also be the asshole who’s planning on baking me some pot brownies. And bringing them to my house. And telling me they’re plain old gluten free brownies. And then making sure I eat them, consistently, for months on end so that I stay high long enough to complete a new home study, get a referral and travel, because bitches, that’s about what it would take for me to add another baby to this mix right now. but also, you probably know that it wouldn’t take much to get me to eat brownies every day. Who are we kidding?
I’d just like to end with this little piece of food for thought: when you tint the hell out of the windows of your minivan, we all know what’s in there, even though we can’t see it: a whole buncha car seats. It’s a Sienna. There’s no question. But my tinted-so-dark-the-cops-pull-my-babysitter-over windows? At least they make you wonder. Sure, that could be Toy Story 2 lighting up the back…but it could totally be porn, too. You can’t be sure. Porn-watching, partying people roll in my vehicle. And so do moms. You never know what you’re gonna get. My cool factor? Partially preserved.
I said it when I was ten. I said it when I was 20. And I’m sayin’ it when I’m 30. Oh hell no. I will NOT drive a minivan.
(And ladies, I’d like to point you to Kelley. She’s strong. This is how it’s done. If my girl, with five kids, can keep it real in an SUV, then the rest of you should be ashamed.)
This post is dedicated to all of my mom friends who drive minivans…so pretty much, all of my mom friends. Don’t take it personally. I love you despite your wheels. xoxo