It’s funny how much I care, when you don’t. My current car just isn’t reliable feeling to me. Little things are breaking. Big things are breaking. I hate the idea of being stranded somewhere with you, or worse, have the locks malfunction (again! even though they’ve been “fixed” twice under warranty!) and lock us out of the car in some strange place. It’s “only” an 07 – says the woman who loves having $0 in car payments and driving cars into the proverbial ground – but it’s just not reliable anymore.

And so the car shopping begins. What would we like? Space! Last time we drove you to visit family, little bug, we were packed to the roof. Literally. Daddy’s SUV had every spare inch of space taken, and he couldn’t see in the rear view since we’d packed everything so high. But if we want space, then we have to look at becoming a cliche. I would have to become a Minivan Mommy. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that Little Lovebug!

I have this perfect vision of our family in 5 years. You’re a lovely little lady. You have a little sister or brother who’s about two years younger than you. We have a dog – maybe a golden retriever, or one of those black and white dogs that Mommy loves but doesn’t know the breed name of, thus making finding a picture hard (and makes this post less visually appealing). And the 5 of us plus pup crammed into an SUV with luggage isn’t cutting it. So if that’s where we are, I’m going to wish we’d bought a minivan. I’m going to be sad I can’t have a luxurious, sexy SUV… but I’m going to want the space.

But a minivan, ugh! That’s not a “fun” car, Little Munchkin. Mommy keeps feeling like she should fall on the sword and get one, since you’ll hopefully have that sibling and dog one day. But they just aren’t fun or appealing. Edit: I lie. When we’ve test driven, they’re awesome on the inside. They’re like spaceships or black-hole-magic-bags with all sorts of space. They fit all sorts of stuff and have neat compartments and mirrors and folding seats and toys like that. But on the outside… they’re ugly. And cliche. And if I buy one, you’ll have to play soccer when you learn to walk, so I can officially be a Soccer Mommy.

Is this what being a Mommy is all about, Little Bugus? Becoming a cliche with a minivan, while still wearing maternity pants and being in desperate need of a hairstyle and an eyebrow wax, and working instead of staying home with my little love just so you’re provided well for? Because if so, I’m doing a bang up job. But it’s no fun, no fun at all!

Sigh. A minivan. Why do I feel like I’m just fighting the inevitable here by hating the idea?

Love,
Mommy who wishes Mommy Cliches weren’t true, and knows that The Little Love doesn’t care at all, as long as she’s safe