Gassing up the Mom Mobile

Things are getting real. We’ve ordered a mom mobile.

The weekend I met Captain, he offered to give me and my skis a ride home. He told me,

“I’m not sure if it’ll all fit, but we can try.”

He has a very sexy, very tiny car made for two people. It’ll struggle to fit a diaper bag, never mind a third person.

We review our car options. Captain likes race cars, trucks and tractors. I don’t have as much car knowledge as Captain, but I’ve been using Zipcar for 6 years now, so I’ve gotten around.

I’ve driven Smart cars, MINI Coopers, Mazdas, Hondas, BMWs, sedans, minivans, SUVs and the Toyota Prius. Everyone raves about the Prius. No thank you. Any car that beeps at me while I’m trying to back up is a NO. I’m already craning my neck around trying not to run over people, a curb and other inanimate objects. I don’t need the car beeping at me too. I’m backing up. I KNOW.

I turn to Consumer Reports. Looks like the Toyota Highlander might be ideal. New or used it’s highly ranked. We head to a Toyota dealership to check out a few different cars. Captain points out a minivan and asks,

“What do you think?”

“I think I might die.”

I want a mom mobile, but I don’t want it to look like it might float away in a snow storm.

The Toyota Highlander is not Captain’s first choice. He would prefer a truck or a tractor. We talk through what a couple carseats, two dogs, a stroller and groceries would look like in those vehicles.

We’re down to the Highlander, a small SUV versus a bigger SUV. The Highlander has an easily accessible third row. The car will hold 2 large people and 5 small people. I’m not saying we want 5 kids, but if either of our kids ends up with any friends. We’re all set.

We order the Highlander. In 4-6 weeks the two-seater sports car will retire temporarily to my mom’s garage. Thanks mom! It plans to reemerge in a year or so for its racing career. Either that or we invest in racing tires for the Highlander.




My temporary boob job

For 30 years I’ve had very good control of my body. The few years I didn’t, I don’t remember. Now the 7 inch person inside of me is wreaking havoc.

It’s not all bad. Amazing things are happening to my once fun-size chest. After only 8 weeks in, I glance down. Am I crazy? I model my new set for Captain. He declares,

“At least 25% bigger.”

That’s what I thought.

At this point they’re at least 100% bigger. I have only recently filled out my pre-pregnancy bras, which means I’ve been fooling myself for years.

Yesterday I get dressed to go out for Valentine’s Day. Not much I can do about my large gut that does not scream baby bump. I put on a red pre-pregnancy bra and a low cut top. I look in the mirror. Wow. Cleavage. I’m not sure if my breasts have ever touched each other before.

It’s a miracle. Is it too much? I model my outfit for Captain. He starts giggling like a 13-year-old boy. We’re good to go.