Changed by Jesus. Married to my most favorite guy. Raising our tiny wolfpack. Church planting in Brooklyn with caffeine, some wine and a lot of grace.

10 reasons why I love my minivan.

10 reasons why I love my minivan.

I had a dream last night. And no, not the profound Martin Luther King Jr type. It was a dream in which I wrote a blog titled, “10 reasons why I love my minivan”. Weird? Maybe. But guess what.

It’s happening.

Our van is by no means glamorous, but it is something that I have grown to love and appreciate (even if clutter, coffee cups and smashed goldfish abound). We bought The Stallion when we only had Hudson and Wyatt. We knew that if we were to have another baby, we would be mighty squished in our Subaru Outback, but little did we know that a minivan was actually going to become necessary - there are few other vehicles that you can fit two adults and four kids comfortably while also maintaining a certain level of cool. So, you ready? Let’s go for a ride…

1) “Magic doors”. Not only are both of our side doors automatic (with a push of a button I can magically squish a kid shut and open them), but they open in a way that is impossible for any of my beloved children to smash the door into the neighboring car while exiting. I’m particularly grateful for this when we park next to a fancypants BMW or a Range Rover.

2) Space. Have you ever tried to stretch out your legs in the front seat of a car when there’s a carseat in the seat behind you? It’s mostly impossible. Especially if you have a baby or toddler who is still rear-facing (which we have had for almost 7 years). Maybe I’m one of the few freaks who has this problem, but my 33inch inseam wouldn’t feel even slightly comfortable with our 18 month old behind me if we didn’t have a minivan.

3) Soccer mom swag. Having a minivan also gives me permission to: Wear leggings at all hours of the day. Sport a mombun/ topknot at least 3 days out of the week. Always have coffee in hand because, four boys.

4) Car dancing. Because who can PROPERLY do the sprinkler in a Civic?

5) Road trips. We do a lot of driving back and forth to New Hampshire, but those 276 miles don’t seem so bad when you’re actually able to enjoy the ride. We personally don’t enjoy the ride because of screaming babies, hours of Bubble Guppies songs and countless arguments, but that’s another story.

6) Storage for days. There’s enough room in the back for multiple strollers (all of which are necessary. YES, they are. They are), diaper bags, spare clothes, bubbles, scooters, beach chairs and towels, baseball bat, glove and mitt...the list just goes on and on.

7) Street cred. If you can parallel park a minivan in Brooklyn, you can do anything. Enough said #nailedit

8) Visibility. Not only can I see all things well because I’m up so high in the van, but I know that people can see me. You can’t miss the big black minivan with a cracked bumper (Turkey accident. Thanks New Hampshire) and scrape down the side (double parked box truck accident. Thanks NYC).

9) Stow and Go seats. Basically, if you really want to have a quiet night, fold all of the seats into the floor of the van, bring a few blankets and pillows, make a nest, lock the doors and sleep in your driveway. I would if we had a driveway. And if I wasn’t afraid of waking up with remnants of a fruit bar smashed into my hair.

10) Distance (don't be fooled, this is not the same as space). There's enough distance between myself and the back seat that the big boys just have to deal with their own problems. They're developing problem solving skills and figuring out solutions until the vehicle comes to a complete stop. Then I'm back on duty.

Someone once said to me that the van is essentially an extension of my diaper bag, and that statement cannot be more true. Need a snack? It’s in there. Want a book? Take your pick. Cold? Here’s a sweatshirt. Bored? Play with these stickers. Forget something at home? Have no fear, there’s probably a spare in the trunk. It’s everything that I need and more. Now, excuse me while I go drive around town with my big sunglasses on trying my best to navigate the streets AND sing Ed Sheeran’s new tune at the top of my lungs.

A letter to my future self.

A letter to my future self.

D is for difficult.

D is for difficult.