Over the weekend we completed the last of the necessary evils to prepare for Mayer child #3. We bought a mini van.
My 7-year covert mission, Operation Trap Nick, is now complete.
She's a beaut, huh?
The whole experience was surreal, especially the part where I abandoned Sissy Spacek, my Honda Accord and vehicular partner of eight years, naked and stripped of her license plates alone in the dealership parking lot. I'm sure the sales guy will keep his promise that she'll go to a good home.
When I informed my friends of our decision to buy a mini van, the looks on their faces was equivalent to me telling them that sometimes I like to eat kitten brains for dinner.
One by one they each tried to talk me out of it and convince me that an SUV with third row seating would do the trick. An option we did consider, but with three car seats the SUVs weren't wide enough for me to easily maneuver my child bearin' hips to the back.
Also, the mini van's automatic doors and low floorboard were pretty appealing features, right up there with listening to NPR on the sweet surround sound while wearing my snowman sweatshirt making a late night grocery store run for milk.
When I explained this to my friends they all lowered their heads and whispered solemnly, "Well, I guess you're right. I'm sorry. At least it's not forever."
As Nick and I drove out of the parking lot Saturday night with that old familiar "I don't know what just happened in that negotiation room but I'm pretty sure I've been ass raped" feeling, I felt like more of a grown up than I did when I had Ellie.
20-year-olds do have babies. 20-year-olds do not drive mini vans.
Somehow it seemed fitting that the song on the radio as we drove home was Hits From Da Bong. We just sort of drove in silence while Cypress Hill reminded us of a life for which we were now entirely too uncool.
Driving Ellie to pre-school this morning with this beast strapped to my back I felt like I had completed a rite of passage. Right or wrong, just like owning a Jaguar or Harley there is a stigma associated with owning a mini van.
I'm sensible. I value convenience. I'm probably not drunk. I drive a car with a hallway because I have a shit load of kids.
I can already feel the van starting to take over my soul. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go hot glue something.