Minivans: Love or Hate?

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Hi, my name is Jen, I am a mom, and I drive a minivan. The quintessential mom mobile. I know.

I love my Chrysler Town & Country minivan. See that sliding door? That is a beautiful thing when you have young kids.

It’s fabulous to cruise up to school pick up, push a button for the door to open, and watch the carpool kids easily climb in on their own. I pick up four girls in our carpool, and they can all find their way to a second or third row seat with ease. Once everyone is settled, the push button closes the door and we are on the way. It’s like magic. 

I never have to worry about smacking an open door into another car in a parking lot while struggling with my child’s seatbelt. I can push a button on my keys and open the doors from afar to give the kids a head start getting in and into their seats. It’s nice to not have to worry about kids closing the door on themselves or their little fingers.

There are so many cup holders you can’t even use them all. Oh, and I really love the automatic key that allows me to open my car doors by sensor so I don’t have to dig in my purse to find my keys while my hands are full with kid crap.

So, I have to wonder, why would a car designed to make mom’s lives easier and more convenient arouse such hatred in people? 

I have to say I honestly don’t get it. You know who I am talking about ~ the minivan haters.

I can’t tell you how many times I have heard, “I wouldn’t be caught dead driving a minivan.” “I just can’t DO it.” “I would never drive a minivan!“I refuse to be a minivan mom.” All with a specific tone of distaste.

Just the other day on Facebook a friend shared they were considering a minivan with baby #3 on the way. The array of “don’t do it” comments were hilarious.

One even commented it was not just about buying a minivan, it was a state of mind. Correct me if I am wrong, but the day you decide to become parents, you basically succumb to the state of mind the minivan represents. It’s called parenthood.

Granted, I could be driving a gazillion other cooler cars, but let me let you in on something that’s not a secret…I am 39 and I am a mom. The kids hanging on me and my hands are a dead giveaway. So is the somewhat tired, frazzled look on my face.

I doubt anyone in the Target parking lot would look and think I was any cooler based on what car I was putting my kid in.

Just the other day at gymnastics, one of my friends came in and told me she thought I left my slider open in the parking lot. When I went out to check, it was the same exact car as ours, a white Town and Country, with its door open, but not mine.

Trying to be a helpful citizen to another (likely) crazed mom who was probably distracted unloading her kids, I decided to ask a few people inside if they, “Drove a white Town and Country?” to try and find the owner and let them know.

One middle aged (and dorky) dad I asked responded with, “OH GOD, NO!

And he said it with such disgust, I almost snapped back at him. Are you kidding me? I wanted to know, what EXACTLY is so wrong about driving a minivan? And who did he think he was?! But I decided to not start up a minivan fight at gymnastics so I smiled and moved on.

[Side note: Regardless of what car he was loading his kids into that day, my assessment of his cool factor would remain the same.]

Yes, it is a mom mobile. Yes, it is a kid hauler. But it’s convenient, and I am a big hit with the preschoolers. One of Morgan’s little friends calls it the Abracadabra car. They get the magic of the minivan. Take that dorky gymnastics dad.

What do you think?

Let it loose ladies, don’t hold back, how do you really feel about minivans? Why do you feel that way?  I won’t get my feelings hurt. Promise.

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