By Emily Carter
Originally Published: Dec. 9, 2014
Dear Young Woman in the Compact Car Who Gave Me That Disapproving Look:
Thank you for your judgmental glare at my minivan while we were waiting at that stoplight. I can practically hear you saying, “I could never drive a minivan,” in your most condescending tone to your friend in her tiny Mazda or whatever. And she likely chimed in, “I know, right?! So lame.”
I understand where you’re coming from. You’re beautiful, your body is still in its prime, and you’re living life to the fullest. You think you know it all. The world is your playground, and anyone over twenty-five is, in your eyes, totally uncool and not worthy of your attention. You’re cruising around in a cute little car, which is perfect for holding nothing but your backpack and oversized purse, and the occasional friend who is just dying for Taco Bell.
But let me remind you, my dear, I didn’t arrive on this planet as the stressed-out, minivan-driving mother of four who might still be wearing maternity pants long after giving birth. Believe it or not, not so many years ago, I was just like you—carefree, smug, and sporting smooth skin without a hint of cellulite. Back then, I drove a sleek two-door car, completely free of boogers, baby wipes, Goldfish crumbs, and whatever that is growing in my cup holder. I would have never imagined myself behind the wheel of a Mom-Mobile.
In essence, I was you. And in a decade or so, you may very well find yourself in my shoes.
You’ll come to realize that your metabolism isn’t built to handle all those Taco Bell runs, that your parents are actually smarter than you thought, and that when you’re struggling with an infant seat, a diaper bag, and a wriggly toddler, a minivan’s sliding door will become your best friend. That’s right—when your child swings their door open without a care in the world and dings that brand-new BMW parked next to you, you’ll appreciate the convenience of a sliding door.
I won’t lie; it stings a bit to receive that “OMG, you’re such a loser” look from a younger generation. It’s a painful reminder that my Friday nights are now spent prepping for countless kids’ birthday parties over the weekend (all gifts wrapped in reused bags, of course). Or perhaps I’ll find myself sipping wine without even a hint of being carded (cue the sad trombone) and dozing off on the couch by 9:00 PM, drooling a little as I drift into slumber.
But trust me: from your youthful perspective, you might think you’ll never reach this stage. One day, karma will catch up with you. She’ll bring along stretch marks, gray hairs that feel like straw, and a closet full of jeans that no longer fit. She can be unforgiving. And you may just find out that she drives a minivan.
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Summary
This article humorously addresses the judgment of youth, reflecting on the inevitable changes life brings, particularly in motherhood. The author shares personal experiences and insights, highlighting the practicality of driving a minivan and the lessons learned as one transitions through different life stages.