To the gentleman who took it upon himself to judge the state of my untidy van:
Let’s be real: there’s no chance you’d ever tolerate your vehicle looking or smelling like this. And certainly, you wouldn’t let your partner transform a family car into a disaster zone.
How shameful of me! Apparently, I’m just as unpleasant as my vehicle for prioritizing the well-being of the living, breathing beings I transport over the condition of a mode of transport.
Well, guess what, my friend? I call it like I see it, and yes, that’s a playful jab. It’s the kid-friendly version of a much harsher term that I can’t use because (ahem) my little ones are right here.
This “mom-mobile” is a reflection of reality, where I’m the one solely responsible for ferrying my children. When they ride with anyone else, it’s because I’ve sweetened the deal with cash or my undying affection. Interestingly, when they’re not with me, they appear well-fed and content, as I manage their endless needs prior to departure.
But when they climb into my vehicle, they are typically worn out from school and stress-eating due to anxiety over post-school activities. They often come back to me emotionally drained from social interactions and thrilled to be back in their comfort zone. And you know what that means? They create an absolute mess.
They turn the car into a disaster zone with whatever they can reach—snacks, crayons, papers, hair ties, and remnants of chocolate cookies—along with whatever grossness comes along for the ride.
While you may see my cluttered van as an indication of lazy parenting, I assure you that my efforts as a mother are anything but lackadaisical.
I’m not being negligent when I’m driving the kids all over town. In fact, it’s quite the opposite! I’m the one making multiple trips across town, and back again, because little Timmy forgot his favorite toy or because Sarah insisted on bringing her sparkly pen instead of the one she originally chose.
Feeding them snacks in the car? That’s a survival tactic, not a sign of negligence—believe me, it’s for my sanity, not theirs!
And it’s not apathy that keeps me from hitting the car wash. I already get enough judgmental looks from other parents at drop-off, so I certainly don’t need to expose myself to the side-eye from the staff at the local car wash.
You want to shame me? I’ll turn that back on you. Shame on you for not sharing more of the parenting load. Oh, you work? Well, then shame on you for criticizing how I manage my responsibilities and the state of my vehicle, which is a direct result of my exhaustion and the daily chaos of parenting.
Let’s be clear: my car reflects the beautiful mess that comes with motherhood.
In the future, why not describe it as “a vehicle coated in love”? That would be a far more accurate representation of its state.
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Summary
In response to a judgmental observer, this article defends the realities of parenting and the messy state of a family vehicle. It highlights the effort and love that go into caring for children, challenging the notion that a messy car equates to lazy parenting.