Dear College-Aged Gal Who Gave My Minivan a Disapproving Glance,
Thanks for that eye-roll-worthy look you shot my way at the red light. I could practically hear you saying, “There’s no way I’d drive a minivan,” in your most sarcastic tone to your friend behind the wheel of her tiny little Mazda or whatever it was. And she probably chimed in, “Totally lame, right?!”
I get it. You’re effortlessly stunning, and your body is still in that magical phase where everything is where it should be—no spandex, no underwire needed. You think you’ve got it all figured out while everyone over twenty-five is just “so uncool.” You cruise around in your pint-sized ride, which is perfect for your backpack, oversized purse, and maybe a tipsy friend or two in the backseat, because let’s be real, Taco Bell is calling your name.
But here’s the thing, darling: I wasn’t always the frazzled mom of four, zipping around in a minivan. Believe it or not, I was once cute and carefree, with smooth skin and a life that didn’t involve baby wipes, Goldfish crumbs, or whatever is growing in my cup holder. I drove a snazzy coupe, and I never imagined I’d end up in a vehicle that’s lovingly referred to as a Mom-Mobile.
In short, I used to be you.
Fast forward a decade or so, and you might just find yourself in my shoes. By then, you’ll discover that your metabolism can’t handle all those late-night Taco Bell runs, that your parents are actually quite wise, and that when you’re juggling an infant seat, a diaper bag, and several grocery bags while keeping a squirmy toddler in check, a minivan’s sliding doors will be your best friend. Just wait until your kid carelessly flings open the car door and scratches the shiny BMW parked next to you at Target. Whose sliding door is lame now?
I’ll admit, it stings a bit to receive that “OMG, you’re such a loser” look from someone who thinks they’re cooler than the rest of us. It’s a painful reminder that my weekends are now filled with hunting for gifts for the endless birthday parties my kids are invited to (wrapped in thrift-store bags, of course). Or that I’m sipping wine that I didn’t even get carded for (ugh!), all while dozing off on the couch, exhausted and drooling embarrassingly by 9:30. Okay, fine, maybe 9:00.
But trust me, even if it seems impossible from your youthful perspective, karma will catch up to you. She’ll bring stretch marks, gray hairs that feel like steel wool, and a closet full of jeans that no longer fit. She can be brutal. And let me tell you, I’m fairly certain she drives a minivan.
Here at Home Insemination Kit, we’re a community of diverse women bonded by the experience of motherhood. We’re not just moms; we’re partners, daughters, friends, and so much more. We deserve a space to discuss life beyond our kids. For more stories and advice, check out our other posts, like this one on intracervical insemination. And if you’re navigating the challenges of your children growing up, visit our friends at Make A Mom for expert insights. Plus, the CDC has fantastic resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, life changes, and so do our rides. One day, you too may find yourself behind the wheel of a minivan, appreciating the conveniences it brings. Until then, keep enjoying your freedom and remember that karma has a way of catching up.