By Contributing Mama Daphne Biener
For those of you who have not been closely tracking my recent obsession with, um, lovin’, just know that a few months ago I was obsessed with the pro-creational habits of garden squash. From there it was a short leap to the booty-seeking behavior of insects and amphibians. And now I’m back with an update from suburbia that might have you craving a mid-day ride in the old minivan.
Let me explain.
I know people love their minivans. Mothers get a gleam in their eyes just talking about third row seats and sliding doors.
Hell, they’re chatting about strapping in kids and packing up cheerios as if they were sipping piña coladas poolside. I just don’t get it.
I have claimed, boldly, that I will never, ever, ever buy a minivan.
“Not me. Not now. Not ever,” I’ve been known to say with a smirk as I strum my fingers and rock to the beat of the High School Musical soundtrack pumping from the speakers of my station wagon.
This part I probably shouldn’t admit. Though I am the creator of an eco-focused blog, A Greener Biener, and a self-proclaimed adherent to the green path, it is not this commitment to the environment that has kept me from the van scene.
Here it is: I’m just too darn cool. Too cool to drive a mini-van to school.
That, and I simply haven’t been persuaded by the pro-mini-van rhetoric. My children fit in the backseat of my car and the groceries haven’t complained about being stashed in trunk. I never saw the need for a van.
But the times they are a’changing.
I always thought those tinted windows were just another feature marketed at parents yearning to protect their precious cargo littered throughout rows 1, 2 and 3.
I was wrong.
It has recently been brought to my attention that the mini-vanning mamas out there, those tot-schlepping, errand-running, peanut butter and jelly-making mini-van driving mamas are doing more than running laps between Target and swim practice. More than soccer moms and food-shoppers, these ladies are my heroes.
These ladies are getting busy in the back seat.
That’s right. I’m talking yes-we-can in the mini-van. A little heat back in the third-seat. Things getting hot in the parking lot.
Ah, the minivan. I’m beginning to see the allure.
I know you want names, but I can’t reveal my sources. I will say this though; if you want to know who’s pulling out of the carpool lane and into lovers’ lane, there’s one surefire way to tell.
Look for the mama that’s smiling as she picks gummy old cheerios out of her hair.