Here I am, parked outside in my minivan, enjoying a rare moment of solitude. I needed this escape—especially since the bathroom was already occupied.
With a glass of wine in hand, I’m soaking in the sounds of crickets chirping and my daughter’s complaints drifting from her open window. It’s one of those unseasonably warm nights, the kind they used to call an Indian summer.
Every now and then, my husband tries to quiet her down, but I refuse to go back in and play referee. I’m doing my best to stay put, glued to this seat. My usual role is the peacemaker—the one who calms the chaos. Honestly, I’m starting to resent that title.
So here I sit, with my rear end planted firmly in the seat and my wine sitting snugly in the cupholder, staring at the house that should feel like a haven but instead feels like a prison tonight. I just needed to get out for a while.
As I sit here, I find myself reflecting and attempting to shift my perspective. Today was a big day—I dyed my hair lighter, but the stubborn grays are still there, defiantly sprouting up like little reminders of my age. I pluck one, and three more seem to pop up in its place. They’re like badges of honor, a reminder of all the parenting battles fought.
Speaking of battles, I had yet another argument with my daughter today about her messy room, the endless slime, and her scattered clothes. It feels like this war has been waging since the dawn of time.
And I’m not exactly thrilled with my husband either; I suspect the sentiment is mutual tonight. He procrastinates, I nag—classic marriage dynamics.
So here I am, finding refuge in my minivan. I look around at the remnants of school drop-offs and playdates—old snack wrappers, mismatched shoes, and who-knows-what-else cluttering the floor. I quickly look away, not ready to confront the chaos just yet.
Eventually, I’ll head back inside and muster the energy to try again. Because sometimes, we just need a little breather to reset and recharge. It doesn’t make us bad parents; it makes us human. It helps us avoid the urge to send our children back to the hospital or our husbands back to where we first found them.
Tonight, I just want to be a little less than my usual self. Normally, I’m a big deal to them—though they may not always recognize it.
Maybe you could use a moment like this too. A chance to escape, to pause, to not be everything for everyone. Take that moment. I am. Tonight, I’m just a mom in a minivan parked in the driveway with a glass of wine—that’s all I can manage. There’s no shame in it unless I allow there to be. Cheers to that!
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In summary, sometimes we all need a break from the chaos of parenting. It’s okay to take a moment for ourselves, whether it’s in a minivan or elsewhere.