Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Grown-up status

 Well, it's official. I'm a grown-up.

 I thought I was a grown-up when I could vote legally, then again when I could drink legally.

I was convinced I was a grown-up when I got a taste of independence in college. 

When I moved in with my boyfriend. 
           Especially when that boyfriend became my husband.

When we had our first baby and I used the term "my daughter" for the first time in conversation; that felt very grown-up. 

Buying a house recently felt like an adult thing to do -- more points in the grown-up bank. 

But now it's really official.  Now I am surely a grown-up. Because now... now I am not only the owner, but the PROUD owner, of a minivan.

That's right. A minivan.  The thing I SWORE my entire life I would never own, never drive, never desire -- I now own, drive, and adore. 

Practicality beat out a false sense of lowered self-esteem.  My old thoughts; Minivan's are for MOMS.  I will be a Tahoe-mom, NEVER a minivan-mom.

Well, this minivan-mom can't afford the gas in a Tahoe, not to mention the automatic sliding doors in my minivan make me so happy I'm fairly certain I could do a triple flip, land on my index fingers alone, and break into a flawless cartwheel. 

I've gone from this assumption...

To this reality...

My reality is that I don't care if you see me coming and try to pull out quickly before I pass for fear I will drive 5 mph under the speed limit because I'm in a VAN.

My reality is that I don't need head turns and honks anymore, I find it rather juvenile and annoying to tell you the truth.  Minivan invisibility is rather freeing actually.  I can rock out with my girls to Andy Grammer's Honey I'm Good like my life depends on it, with hardly a self-conscious thought in my body.

My reality is that I am a mom.  A proud mom. And we need space.  We need room for our family of 4, our dog, all of the essentials and future babies.  I need sliding doors so I don't have to negotiate big sister’s exit from the car for 5 minutes while I wait to lift her out and close the door.  I need this.
It's stupid, really, to think that your car determines who you are or says anything about you. Your character determines who you are. A vehicle is a means to an end.  Literally, a vehicle, to get you from one place to another, and the roomier and safer this journey can take place, the better, in my new grown-up opinion.

Yesterday, we all sat in the driveway, all doors open, back row stowed into the floor, and played for at least an hour in this minivan.  No joke. It's still new, so it’s cleaner than the house -- which feels peacefully delightful to me.  And little imaginations are going to town with this new 'playhouse.'

I can even see sneaking out to the van to find refuge with just myself and a glass of wine in the near future. It's quite lovely in there.

What I used to think was; What will people think?!

What I think now is, Check me out! My stress level has plummeted and I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK.

It's really liberating – not to care.  And to add a cherry and some whipped cream to that sentiment, to actually enjoy and be proud of the one thing I used to care too much about. 

So there you have it.  My official welcome into grown-up status. 

And if the minivan wasn't enough, I happened to notice that the capris I purchased at Target the other day are Levi brand. LEVIS. (The fact that I can bend over or squat without having to hold up the back to ensure modesty should have been my first clue.) I wear Levi's and I drive a minivan.  I am officially a mom.  Officially a grown-up.

And it feels pretty damn good.



  1. I thought we achieved grown up status when we took our husbands' last names! Still feel like the most important woman in the world when he introduces me as his wife, or when I sign my name. Totally new ballgame once we had a kid. Grown up Status: achieved. Level: novice.

  2. Emily you are hilarious! ... And smart! ... And hilarious! Truth- all of it.