My, my. My minivan post seemed to strike a chord with others who equally abhor their mode of transportation. While some readers commiserated, others reveled in my new minivan-mom status. Take this email I received from a friend and former co-worker:
So, I was having a pretty amazing weekend […] It was one of those weekends where you think things can’t get any better…and then I read that you bought a minivan […] High-end, high-fashion, high-heeled Diana – the same lady who once mocked my purchase of a minivan and swore to the sweet heavens above that she would buy her entire wardrobe at Salvation Army before being caught dead behind the wheel of a minivan – was now a card-carrying Minivan Mom. Thank you, Diana. Thank you for that precious gift.
I would like the record to show that I never swore I would buy my entire wardrobe at Salvation Army before driving a minivan. I don’t think.
But I digress.
Some people (namely my mother) insisted I would grow to love my minivan. I have my doubts. Yet others requested photos – I think in order to suspend their disbelief. I can still hardly believe it myself, but photos don’t lie. So here you go: my minivan montage. Just so we’re clear – I have a smile on my face, but that is only because I look truly, truly awful frowning And for those of you really detail-oriented, I am wearing very tall shoes and painted my nails (er, had my nails painted) mint green, a decidedly un-soccer mom color, in my opinion. I must rebel against the minivan and all it represents any way I can!
But Oh! Lest I forget, I must wish a Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there! To the best Dad in the world, I love you but I’m still not going to let Lucy call you “Boss”. And to Damon, thanks for being a great Dad to little E. We miss you!
Now, the pictures. Feel free to mock me.
Remember when I swore I would never, NEVER drive a minivan? I didn’t care if I had 12 kids – you were never going to find me behind the wheel of a minivan. I repeat: Never. And then I moved to Japan. Where on base, minivans are so prolific, I often can’t distinguish my car from the next. (Yes, I have tried to get into the wrong car before.) Where on base, minivans cost about half a month’s rent. (Yes, you read that correctly.) Before moving here, we sold Damon’s faithful Camry. We were not allowed to transport a car to Japan, and we could only store one car in the states. Damon has a pick-up truck that he loves more than me, so that we stored. In the meantime, we planned on buying a small, cheap beater from someone leaving base around when we arrived. We’d get our 30 months out of it, and sell it cheap to the next fellow when that time came. With people constantly moving to and from Atsugi, that’s just how things go. And what do you know, that’s just how things went. The family leaving Damon’s squadron as we arrived were looking to sell their car, and we were looking to buy. Their car happened to be a minivan. Damon jumped on the opportunity. “It’s perfect timing! It’s so cheap! And look how much room there is! It’ll be great for road trips! And if we have another kid while we’re here, we’ll need the space!” HOLD UP. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. “But it’s a MINIVAN. Driving a minivan goes against my religious beliefs. I can’t do it.” “Diana. It’s only for a couple of years.” “You’re telling me there are no other non-minivans we can buy right now?” “Yes, that is what I am telling you.” “How am I supposed to be the cool, young mom if I’m driving a minivan? Answer me that!” He couldn’t answer me that, but it didn’t matter. For once, my powers of persuasion were rendered useless. Given the timing and the price and... Read More