Eatin' Crow

Earlier this week I shared my first "lesson" I think the Big Man Upstairs was teaching me.  Now it is time to share lesson #2.

"I will never, ever, ever drive a minivan." stated Heather.  "I don't care how much fossil fuel I waste, how much I spend on gas, or if we eat rice and beans all month to afford the payment - I will drive a Suburban before I get behind the wheel of a minivan."

My minivan loving friends would politely listen, nod their head understandingly, and then launch into all the benefits of the Mom-Wagon.  Electronic doors, ease of getting kids in and out, hauling their kids friends easily, automatic lift gate, yada yada, blah blah blah...

and I would think to myself - "But just look at it.  It says, 'I've given up. I have lost all coolness and succumbed to the world of mom jeans, spit up covered shirts, and purses containing more cracker crumbs and pacis than lipstick.'" and feel pity for them cruising around in their rectangular boxes of pathetic-ness.

And God sat up in heaven giggling......

When #4 and #5 appeared on the ultrasound screen, it quickly became apparent that our current vehicle was not going to work.   So, we started car shopping.  We investigated every large vehicle option known to man: the Suburban, the Yukon, the Expedition, The Excursion, a small school bus, that strange thing John and Kate +8 drive, a Winnebago.  We interviewed numerous families of 7 - what did they drive, how did they fit all the car seats in, did they really go anywhere all together in public anyway?

And the same solution kept popping up no matter how we tried to avoid it:  MINIVAN

So last Friday we broke down and headed to the Honda dealer and signed over my coolness, my hipness, my "I'm Never Driving a Minivan" persona and pulled out of the lot with this:

To all my friends who patiently listened while I slammed the minivan, I will be eating some crow for dinner tonight. 

And after that tasty avian dinner, I will push my remote key and open the doors for my children to hop in, use the in-dash navigation to plot our route to soccer practice, play some kiddie tunes off my I-Pod through the auxiliary doc, open the sunroof and cruise while I talk on the Bluetooth enabled phone.  All in my rectangular box of pathetic-ness.