Well, let’s just say my opinions have already started to change regarding the first two items. I mean, the coverage and comfort alone are just fantastic.

And, on Memorial Day, my husband brought home a brand new #3, and I did a jig of happiness.

Who am I? Who have I become? Why did I just do a mom-tastic touchdown dance in my driveway over a minivan?

As a mother of two small children with one on the way, I could only fight the van for so long. In fact, I went into the dealership fighting the van, almost to the point of tears, and I left the dealership, almost in tears, because I wanted the damn van that badly. 

So what exactly happened to me that day? I think I can sum it up in 5 key points.

1. Putting 3 car seats in a third-row SUV had me bending and flopping and sweating like an Olympic gymnast, only minus the whole Olympic gymnast body and flexibility and with a whole lot more grunting. And swearing.

2. There’s like 15 cup holders in a van. At any given time, I could have 15 Diet Cokes, or 5 Diet Cokes and 10 Starbucks, or 7 Diet Cokes and 8 Starbucks…you get the idea. 

3. The side doors open by themselves. By themselves. I press a button, and they open like the sparkly gates of Heaven, or the automatic doors at Target. I press another button, and they close. By themselves. Do you know how much less I have to work when loading and unloading my children? Soon, I will be able to say, “Children, run toward the van, and load yourselves!” Oh, the sweetness of that day.

4. The rear storage is amazing, even with the third row up. It’s deep…like coffin deep. And when I say coffin, I mean you can literally bury an obscene amount of Target purchases that you would rather be kept a secret (from your kids…or your husband), underneath the items and bags you actually aren’t afraid of being seen. Just think of the possibilities. Secret candy stashes, secret Diet Coke stashes, secret shoe stashes. Coffin deep.

5. The second row can be left as a bench or bucket seats. By using the bucket seats, my two children cannot come close to touching each other. No poking, no grabbing, no yanking toys from each other. They are separated by a great and wonderful divide, and we are all happier that way. And with the middle seat clear, on road trips (where you are presumably not driving), you can live out all of your fantasies of being a pretty flight attendant. You can safely move about the cabin (maybe with a drink cart!) and do those fancy hand movements they always do. “Insert the clip into the buckle and pull to tighten.” Just me?

These reasons don’t even touch all the backup and side cameras, technology capabilities, or the fact that literally every person in the vehicle can control the heat and air. 

And Guys? It also has one of these.

That’s right. I can now go all bus driver on them and tell them to sit down, keep their arms and legs inside, or stay behind the white line. Honda calls it a “conversation mirror,” but let’s call a spade a spade. It’s a bus driver mirror, and it is awesome.

I mean, really, my only hang-up with it is I probably won’t look all that cool pulling up to all those trendy bars and restaurants I frequent often. 

<<crickets>>

But I’ll look like a bad ass in the preschool pick-up line.

I took a moment to let that sink in, and then immediately I felt guilt, shame, and embarrassment. Shame on me for thinking that 1) teaching was easy and 2) I preferred it to caring for my own children. 

I then started thinking about this taboo I was experiencing– the one where stay-at-home moms/work-inside-the-home moms/full-time moms (whatever title helps the public sleep at night), would prefer to just go back to work and leave the chaos and madness of home life behind. For a day. For a month. For a year. For forever.

I’m not supposed to feel this way. I am supposed to be consumed by the wonder of my children 24 hours a day. I am supposed to smile through the fatigue, laugh through the mess, stay calm through the tantrums, and accept that “happy homes” are dirty and disorganized and loud. I am supposed to wear my badge proudly and say things like, “I am just so blessed to have the opportunity to stay home with my children,” because I know that so many women would die for this possibility. 

And some days, I am OK with all of the above. I really am. I step over the toys on my living room rug and ignore the laundry piles for another day and I manage to find joy among the chaos. 

But other days, I wonder if my family was better off when I was working full time. If my children were happier when they were at day care, getting constant interaction and stimulation and doing activity upon activity. Most of the time, my four year old’s boredom is palpable, and I fall short in entertaining, inspiring, and motivating her. 

The devil is in the doubting.

When my husband comes home after a long day of work, my girls practically run each other over to be the first ones to him. He will sit on the floor with his legs spread apart and arms outstretched while they take turns running into him and knocking him backward. It’s their thing, I know. 

But there was a time when my girls toddled and tripped over their own two feet to be the first to get to me at the end of the day. Seeing me at the door to pick them up from day care created huge smiles on all of our faces. The sweetest reward after a challenging day.

Many of my friends are pregnant for the first time and going through the agony of choosing a day care for their babies. I remember those days well. 

It’s so tough to know if you’re making the right decision.

And even when you stay home with your children, it’s so tough to know if you’re making the right decision.