Taking My Old Self for a Spin

Mr. Mint drives a much, much nicer car than I do.  I don't really mind.  Afterall, I am the one who shuttles the kids around, grocery shops and all those other things that require a minivan.  The truth is I have never really cared that much about the car that I drive.  My (now four year old) minivan is the first brand new car I have ever owned.  I view it as transportation, nothing more.  I'm not defined by the car I drive.

Mr. Mint loves his nice car.  He has worked his @ss off to afford that car and he deserves it.  It's not over the top, just a nice car.  He rarely lets me drive it.  And by rarely, I mean never.  I can't say I really blame him, as driving has never been my forte.  But sometimes it is rather silly.  If I am going to my book club or to run an errand on the weekend, he never, ever offers to let me drive his car instead of my minivan.  Never. Ever.  (But I'm not bitter or anything)

A couple of weeks ago he took the kids to his parents house for the afternoon and I had an event to attend that evening.  I could tell it was painful for him, but it made no sense to put all three car seats in his car.  I can count on one hand the times this has happened in our six years of parenthood... the situations that require him to drive all three kids somewhere and me to be without any kids.  

I did what any mom would do with a couple of hours to herself and an empty house.  I folded laundry, picked up various shoes, toys and snack remnants from around the house, cleaned the kitchen and took a shower.  I took my time getting dressed.  I picked out a cute outfit and even put on some lip gloss.  I got into Mr. Mints nice car and sank into the comfortable seat.  I turned up the radio and cruised down hwy 101 to my destination.   I had a very strange, almost giddy feeling I couldn't quite put my finger on.  Granted I was attending a very mommy-centric event, but what was that look the valet was giving me as I pulled up to the four star hotel in my husband's nice car?  Was he flirting?  

Then it hit me as I was walking into the hotel.  That valet did not see a disheveled mom in a minivan with a potty on the floor of the backseat, fruit snacks smashed into every crevice, a random shoe under the seat and DVD's strewn about the front console.  He saw a smartly dressed, fairly decent looking, relaxed woman.  He saw me.  The un-mommy me.  I almost started crying.  But I didn't.

Instead I had a lovely time getting to know some other smart moms and listening to a UC Berkeley Graduate School professer lead a discussion about reading, education and raising our children to love learning.  It wasn't about potty training, timeouts, meal time or playdates (not that those aren't discussions I have with other smart moms on a daily basis).  

When I got back in Mr. Mint's car to go home.  I savored whatever it was that I was feeling.  I refreshed my lip gloss, even though I was headed home.  I turned up the radio again.  And there it was in a flash.  That feeling I couldn't put my finger on earlier was me feeling like no one's mommy.  No one was asking me to pull over so they could pick up the water bottle they just dropped.  No one was yelling for me to turn up their favorite song at the same time someone else was asking me to turn the music down so they could tell me something.  No one was bickering.  There was no echo of "mommy, mommy, mommy, MOMMY."  There was just me, the radio and the road.  When I got home all I had to unload was myself.   I felt young and refreshed.

Lately I've been thinking about why driving my husband's car was such an intense experience for me.  Have you ever seen that Suave commercial?  This one:

That is totally me.  Except I tried Suave and it didn't really make me beautiful and youthful again.  

I have immersed myself in being the mommy for the past six years and I have lost a little bit of the person I was before.  I still care about my appearance, but it is hard to find the energy some days to really put an effort into it.  Wearing sweats just seems so much more practical and comfortable for days when I will only be dropping off kids here and there and coming home to clean up the breakfast dishes and read blogs.  I do "dress up" for when I am in one of the kids classrooms, have an appointment or plan to meet someone for lunch or coffee.  But my "mom" wardrobe is very different from when I has a full time office job.

Being a stay at home mom has suited me just fine for the most part.  But what I am starting to realize six years in is that motherhood is amazing and wonderful and fulfilling, but is not the end all, be all of life.  And that is OK.  I'm hard on myself as a mother and want to craft a magical childhood for my children.  I enjoy them and I'm nuts about them.  But they also suck the life out of me sometimes.  Why do I need an evening alone and a drive in a nice car to remind me of my old self?  Why does she need to be lost?  She would be a good mother too.

What I have been asking myself is what am I really teaching them by having not much of a life outside of being their mom.   I don't want my girls, or my son for that matter to grow up thinking moms wear sweats everyday and only venture outside the house for groceries, book club and to vote.  I need to find a way to be The Mommy and The Un-Mommy at the same time.  It's a struggle sometimes.

I am making myself sound pretty pathetic, which in reality I am not (I hope).   I don't have all the answers.  I just know that I need to show my kids that there is more to life than listening to Camp Rock songs in the car.    

Perhaps I'll take a class at a community college.  Or maybe I'll just take Mr. Mint's car out for a spin more often.

Something's Missing

Indulge me for a moment if you don't mind.  Imagine you are the mother of three children.  You have had a very busy week and have a lot on your mind.   Your three year old son has not put weight on his injured leg or walked for the past four days.  Which means you have carried him everywhere.  Up the stairs, down the stairs, to the bathroom, to the car, in from the car... everywhere.  And since you wrote a post about how fast your kids are growing up and how much you miss their baby-ness, of course your darling son has reverted to acting like a baby.  He uses baby talk and has crying fits because you dared to put carrots on his plate.  You are so tired.  

You scheduled a dentist appointment for your twin girls on a day you knew your son would be in school.  But since he hasn't been able to walk, you can't send him to school.  So you pile all three kids in the mini-van and head to the dentist.   Of course your children's dentist is in San Francisco since that is were you lived two years ago.  Now you live in the suburbs so it will take at least 30 minutes to get there, possibly longer depending on traffic.  Parking at the dentist is pretty much nonexistent, so you need to tack on extra 15 minutes in order to find a parking space. 

You are feeling lucky when after just one trip around the block you spot someone pulling out and you are only about a half of block from the dentist office.   The spot is a little tight and your bumper is slightly blocking someone's driveway.  But your late, so you go with it.

You're hoping to get in, get their teeth cleaned and get out so you can get the girls back to school in time for an assembly.  Of course you have to hold your son on your lap the whole time because he won't stand up.  Your arms ache from carrying him around.  The girls need x-rays and fluoride and your son wants to share his pretzels with the office dog.   The dentist wants to chit chat about loose teeth and flossing.  You finally get everyone their new toothbrushes, stickers and toys.  You write the dentist a check while holding your three year old son and make your next appointment.  

As you're walking to the car you have a sinking feeling in your stomach for some reason.  You reach the spot where your car should be and there is no mini-van, but a gardening company truck instead.  You walk a little further down the block pushing the alarm button on your keychain which makes the car honk it's horn, just to be sure you aren't looking in the wrong place.  You hear nothing.

You panic and assume your car was towed.  There is no way you will get the girls to the assembly on time.  You call your husband who works in San Francisco and he agrees to come and rescue you.  The kids are hungry and asking a million questions.  Your husband picks you up and you head across town to the tow yard to bail out your car.   When you finally get to the tow yard, they do not have your mini-van.  After spending 20 minutes on the phone with the department of parking and traffic, you realize that your mini-van was not towed and is not on it's way to the tow yard.

Now your kids are really hungry and cranky and you they've overheard you and your husband use several swear words.  You come to the realization that your car was stolen.  Stolen along with your daughters backpacks, three car seats, your travel coffee mug, several DVDs, a PlasmaCar, a couple of empty juice boxes, countless smashed goldfish crackers and your favorite sweater.  You start crying and the kids start crying.  Your husband calls your insurance company.

You all get back in the car and head to the police station to file a report.  On the way there, you send out a quick Twitter about your stolen car and your lovely friends send you sympathy and love over the internet.  You try to entertain your starving kids while your husband fills out a police report.   Your non-walking three year old son is getting heavier and crankier by the minute.  You have a headache and your arms feel like they are going to fall off.

Before you head for home and try to rent a car, you and your husband decide to drive back across town to the scene of the crime just to be sure your mini-van is not there.  As you turn the corner onto the street you were parked on, your heart drops as you see the tail end of a silver mini-van with a familiar dent on the passenger side.  It's just a few cars down from where you stopped looking for it earlier.  Your husband looks at you like you are a complete idiot and thankfully doesn't say what you know he is thinking.  Your famished kids cheer and practically kiss the car they thought was gone forever.

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I am sure I will be able to laugh at the story someday, but not today.  Today I am emotionally drained and pissed off.  I'm pissed off at myself.  I feel so stupid.  I have been unable to keep get my act together ever since school started.  I can't keep anything straight.  It's not the big things, it's all the little things I have running around in my head that make me feel overwhelmed.  When is the ballet tuition due?  Whose library books are due on Wednesday and whose are due on Thursday?  How much milk is left in the fridge, do we have fabric softener or toilet paper at home?  What gift should I buy for the birthday party this weekend and when will I have time to buy it?  What time is our soccer game and is it our turn to bring snacks?  Do we have everything we need for Halloween?  When is the gift wrap fundraiser money due?  

It's the details that are kicking my @ss.  I look around me and see women who seem to have it all under control.  They are well dressed and turn in their forms on time.  They have time to work out and return e-mails.   Why is it that I can't seem to find a system that works for me and my family?  How did I get so distracted that I could not find my own mini-van and reported it stolen???   Why do I feel like I am functioning with half a brain?  What am I missing?

I don't expect answers to any of these questions.  I am just so frustrated with myself.  Maybe I will be able to get my act together by Christmas break.  Hopefully I won't "lose" my car again... or one of my children.

The Accidental Mini-Van Driver

Sometimes mini-vans are hard to maneuver.

I'm just saying.

The Post That Almost Didn't Happen

My sister and I decided to rent a little seaside cottage and take our kids to the beach for a couple of days.  My nablopomo streak was almost broken when I discovered that our little rental did not have wireless internet access.   Jolly the Sister saved the day when she discovered the handy, dandy bright yellow DSL cable line.  Hooray!  Now you get to see some photos of our little excursion.  Try to contain your excitement.

Here's what two moms and five kids look like in my mini-van.

We did a little of this:

And then a little of this:

Although as they were going to bed tonight, Lolly said she didn't want to go to the beach tomorrow.  When I asked why she said "it's too sandy."  I guess we'll try to find a less sandy beach.

Confessions of a Mini-Van Mom

This morning I woke up to the girls asking me if we could go get smoothies and bagels for breakfast.  It was 6:30am.  Even though I was freezing and groggy I said yes.  It's one less meal I have to cook and clean up, and I was in the mood for a bagel.  So I threw on some sweats and off we went.   As we were heading back to the car with our breakfast, I noticed I had left the side sliding door of my mini-van open.   It's only the second time I've done that in the 3 years we've had the car.   I was parked in front of a fancy gym and there was a man getting into his car next to me with his newspaper and his gym bag.   I could tell exactly what he was thinking as he waited for me to pile my kids into the van so he could have better access to his car.  "Another distracted mom with a gaggle of kids and a mini-van."  

I get these looks often when I am out and about in my mini-van.   People make all kinds of assumptions because I drive a mini-van, am followed by three little children and am usually wearing sweats.   Other non mini-van driving moms are sometimes the worst.  It doesn't bother me.  I am not defined by my car.  Would I like to drive something else?  Sure.   Maybe in a couple of years, or when Gloppy out grows this we'll be ready for something different.  But right now, it works for us.  

I can push a button and the side doors slide open, the kids climb in unassisted and the older two buckle themselves.  When I'm in the car line at school, I can open the door from the drivers seat and don't have to worry about anyone smashing their little fingers shutting the door themselves.  On a recent trip to the snow we fit all three kids, me, Mr. Mint, Grandma Nutt and all our gear in the van with no problem.  I don't have to perform yoga moves to get all the kids strapped in when we have a play date.  The girls can easily change into their ballet clothes in the back seat.  If we want to go somewhere for a bike ride, we can fit all three kids and their bikes in the van with room to spare.   I even carry a potty that can be used rather discreetly in my mini-van.

So go ahead and roll your eyes at me when I'm driving too slow or have to pull over to hand someone their snack.    What you don't see is that we listen to everything from Chris Brown to Laurie Berkner to NPR in our van.  I read books while I'm waiting for my kids.  I have interesting conversations with interesting people (some of whom drive mini-vans).  Being a mom is the largest piece of who I am right now, but it's not the only piece.  I'm proud of the young people I am creating.  And I am not embarrassed by our transportation that screams MOM.

Until my mini-van days are over, I'll just put on one of these and hold my head high.