Coming to grips

Moons ago, when N and I set out to start a family, we knew life would change in unexpected ways. Despite our knowledge of inevitable upheaval, we made continual, conscious efforts over the years to hold onto the things we thought made us who we were--little, superficial lifestyle choices that made us feel cool.

We swore we'd still take long drives to the city with baby in tow and we'd never bow out of social events just because we had become parents. Of course, we'd still take our regular jogs and cook elaborate dinners paired with the perfect wine or beer. Perhaps most importantly, we'd keep driving our same paid-off, fuel-efficient, practical cars, which daily reaffirmed our clear statements about how practical and eco-friendly we were.

Some of these pledges fell by the wayside as soon as L came home with us from the hospital, others drifted away without us even knowing it. Still, we were able to hang onto some of the others. We still had the cars.

Now, as we stare directly down a path that leads us so clearly and rapidly to "family of five" status, we realize we barely resemble that couple who made promises to stay cool in the face of family change just a handful of years ago. But we've come to understand also that cool is no longer important to us (nor to any of our now 30-something friends for that matter) and the sacrifices we've made have been more than worth it. But there's one little change we recently had to face that made me suddenly mourn the loss of that young couple. We had to get a new car ... a family car. You know, the kind for a big family. It came home with us last month.

No. It's not a reputation-scarring minivan (no offense). It's not a fuel-swilling full-size SUV. It's a reasonable used vehicle with no DVD player, no navigation system and better gas mileage than my old wagon, but it has a lot of seats and it is undeniably, well, a family car. A big car. And it feels new and fancy. Do you want to know the worst part? I'm already in love with it. It has comfy leather seats and one of those glass roofs in the ceiling through which little C can spot the moon. There's room for the new baby, groceries, about 17 beverage cups and my parents when they come to visit. It's really perfect.

As I zip around, clad in shiny black and tinted windows with big tires and a stereo system that can really handle Dustin Hoffman's reading of "Horton Hears Who," I'm not sure what message my vehicle is sending to other drivers on the road. Snobby middle-class soccer mom? Reasonable, practical family-focused girl with an eye for style? Just another lady with kids in an SUV? I don't know what they think, but I know how I feel--like a girl who really likes driving the kids around in a fun new set of wheels.