Today at the stop light I pulled up to a white mini-van. “Living the mini-van dream” was the ONLY bumper sticker missing from the rear door. This 5 door, white beauty was pimped out–mom style. Macaroni art hung from the rear view mirror. Handprints smeared across the window. You could almost smell the musty odor of french fries. White stick figures decorated the rear gate. So did honor roll, school and various vacation stickers. It was peak traffic time so I had a few moments.
When exactly does this happen? Do we simply give in to the minivan and all that entails? Is it defeat? I tried to remember my high school days. Never, ever did I think, “I want to drive a really sensible mini-van one day.” I remember wanting to me a mom—we used to play the ‘what would you name yours” game as high schoolers. Motherhood was a dream. Tricked out, ragged out mini vans were not.
As I pondered through this I glanced over to the driver of the mommy mobile. Her hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head. Not for fashion but for ease. Even from the car next door I could see cotton–worn, washed, stretched and ‘comfy’. I glanced down and say my own t-shirt decorated dots of yellow…baby food yellow that stained. My shorts had an elastic waist. Comfy clothes. Mom clothes. I glanced back and…..
Birthday cake making-PTO officer-family binder creator and master-couponer was totally engaged in a phone call. On her I-Phone. On her tricked out I-phone. This think had more sparkles and pink then the clearance rack at JUSTICE. If the sunlight caught this thing just right it would have blinded 1/2 the urbanites making their way home. Paris Hilton would be proud. And girl was working this phone. Her conversation was animated and intense. I was sassy side-to-side head movement, finger in the air and a few laughs. Girl was worked her flashy, sassy, obnoxious phone with the gusto of a college freshman during rush week. I laughed. Loudly. I could so relate to her tricked out phone. My concession to youth? Obnoxious, loud and ridiculous Nikes. Neon green, black, pink and purple. They were on my feet right now. In some part of my mind the young, hip, cool Nikes someone negated the elastic size L shorts and misshapen t-shirt.
The light changed in my lane so I pulled ahead. As I went by I smile and tipped my head to mini-van mom. She probably thought I was crazy but it was actually a salute of support. We may drive white, nondescript mini-vans but by God we all still have an inner Diva.
Disclaimer: Minivans are brillant modes of transportation. They are logical and practical and perfectly acceptable for families. I, however, am not a mini-van fan. PERSONALLY not a fan.