The Mommy Machine

I'm totally in love with my new car. It is, in fact, not even a car, it is a VAN. I never really pictured myself as the minivan person, in fact I was sold in buying an SUV...this is until I saw Lucille. She is by far the most fabulous piece of engineering I have ever had the pleasure to spill coffee on. There are storage bins everywhere, plugs for Nintendos, a DVD player with wireless headphones (do I need to say it again....WIRELESS HEADPHONES!!), LATCH hook-ups galore and the backs of the seats are footprint friendly wipe-off-able plastic.

The biggest difference is how I feel driving the thing around. I feel like a serious mommy. No more pretending that I'm some hip single gal in my little sedan. No way...I'm driving a minivan. Look out!! I finally feel like I belong when I pull into the giant spaces at Target or expertly open my automatic sliding doors to unload kids in front of the elementary school.

Once upon a time I was the kind of woman who could confidently mix up complicated chemical solutions, clone organisms hell bent on killing me and statistically analyze mountains of data. I'm pretty sure that I could still do all of those things, but I really don't want to anymore. I have aquired a whole new set of skills. Mommy skills, like continuing to grocery shop as a 2 year old screams from the cart because he wants cookies NOW. I have learned how to successfully navigate the intricate social hierarchy of the elementary school pick-up lobby. I can dose a screaming toddler with 5 ml of Amoxicillin with my eyes closed. My diplomatic skills have been honed to a razor edge by tough negotiations involving the consumption of such things as cauliflower and pesto. I have changed diapers that would make war-hardened Marines weep.

That's right people....Look out! I'm a mommy of three boys. Nothing you do can scare me. I even have the vehicle to prove it.