Well, we bought a minivan…

Well, we bought a minivan. It happened. We now have a big blue spaceship in our garage, with captains’ chairs and everything. And guess what?

I think it’s fabulous.

But I wasn’t always convinced.

Here’s what I knew: Tim’s car was on its last legs, and I was NOT going to make another drive to Indiana or Illinois with a child and a dog in a Toyota Corolla. No way. Something larger was needed. When Tim’s A/C went out a few weeks ago, it was the final straw. It was time to go shopping and confront that inevitable question: SUV or minivan?

Tim was on Team Minivan from the start. He spent much of his childhood being carted around in a Ford Aerostar, and the memories are fond to say the least. Plus, my husband is a man who fully embraces all things parenthood. Including the movie “Parenthood.” He is a total Gil Buckman. The consummate family man. He wants to be the guy hauling around basketballs and cellos in his trunk. He longs to yell, “Don’t make me stop this car!” into the backseat on a cross-country road trip.

We all have dreams. This is my husband’s dream.

Another crucial fact you should know: Tim cares not one bit about being cool. In fact, he celebrates being uncool. He loves going against the grain and rooting for the underdog. He can’t stand “bandwagoners.” Anyone who knows him will know exactly what I’m talking about. He saves when others spend. He parks and walks inside when others pull in the drive-thru. He has championed Nebraska basketball (even in the lean and losing years) when every other person in this state champions Nebraska football.

I don’t always understand my husband’s infatuation with the minority, but I’ve come to accept it. And when this tendency doesn’t drive me crazy, I find it endearing.

The general consensus these days seems to be that minivans are lame, driven by people who have given up any aspiration to be trendy, hip or in style. They are seen as a safe, practical, predictable choice for safe, practical, predictable people.

(Tim: “Amen. Where do I sign??”)

Minivans are viewed as the vehicle equivalent of wearing yoga pants all the time (been there!)… or worse, Crocs.

These stereotypes are what had me looking longingly over the fence at Team SUV. See, I am not as naturally oppositional as my husband. While I am decidedly uncool, every once in a while I do try. And just talking about the decision with coworkers, friends and neighbors, I was very aware of how “minivan” almost felt like a punchline. When I said it was a choice we were considering, it was like, “Awww, how cute. Welcome to middle age!” Or, just as fun, “I thought you had better taste. Guess I was wrong.” I admit it; there was some peer/cultural pressure in play.

I also drive a small car. Size-wise, going with a SUV felt like a reasonable step up; whereas, moving to a minivan felt like a whopper of a leap.

When we drove to the dealership, the plan was to look at minivans and then SUVs. But once I checked out the features and room in the first minivan we looked at, I was a goner. Timber! I fell hard. The space was just ridiculous. The seats were super comfy. I even liked the exterior; I didn’t find it boxy or bus-like. Plus, it was low to the ground; it would be way easier to get Luke in and out of his car seat.

I love a good debate, and I’m not afraid to fight for what I want. But I couldn’t fight this feeling: the minivan was the best choice for our family going forward. I think Tim knew I was sold, but we still looked at two three-row SUVs.

They weren’t as sexy as they’d been marketed. After lounging in the Odyssey, they felt kind of cramped. Everything was higher up and ready to roll over on the interstate. No power-sliding doors. Less mpgs. And not nearly as many cup holders.

Most of my friends and colleagues drive SUVs. I have to admit, some of them are really, really nice. Sportier, for sure. On trend. Potentially better in snow. And, let’s be honest, they don’t scream “Baby on board!”

That said, I am excited to have a minivan parked in my garage. I’m choosing to turn the minivan label on its head. Maybe it’s not a sign of resignation, but rather a sign of maturity and expectation. Self-acceptance, even. Maybe the minivan represents two grown adults who are less concerned about image and more interested in good sense.

I know this: our minivan represents two uncool people who have fully embraced a new season of life and a new(ish) little person who is totally cool. So cool, in fact, that he makes his Mommy do wild and crazy things… like buy a minivan.