With apologies to minivan moms who would never find stale fries underneath seats and who are comfortable in designer clothes. I salute you!
This post originated from a conversation with a best friend yesterday about the stigma of moms and minivans. Since I love poetry and it’s April/National Poetry Month, I couldn’t help but honor my minivan with a poem.
By Regina Cyzick Harlow
Hat hides uncombed hair
Yoga pants and maxi skirts
Feel good on a shape
That has birthed babies
And bears the look of one
Who stress eats and sneaks treats
From the children’s candy jar
Fancy vehicles feel as much a misfit on her
As designer clothes
Skinned knuckles reveal
With car seats and buckles
Stale fries underneath seats
Reminds her of bargaining for sanity
And cartooned stickers
Placed haphazardly on smudged windows
As she revels in the unspeakable joys of motherhood
I am she and she is me
I am a proud minivan Mom
As much as I own “minivan Mom” status, I have very few photos to prove it. Someone snapped this when I was leading runners and walkers for our annual 5K.
Then there’s that time we were snowed in.
And the other time when a summer storm brought a tree branch down on my van.
And that’s about all I’ve got for photos.
Currently my van is in the repair shop and I’m driving an SUV. The lovely folks in the school pick-up line shout out, “that’s a nice ride,” but I can’t wait to be back in this white beauty. (In the eyes of the beholder, right?)