By Kelly Bay of Beer and Junk, Adventures in Parenting

We said goodbye to our first minivan this week.

We purchased it a few months after finding out that we were pregnant with our youngest son. At the time we had a one-year-old, a three-year-old, a small, expensive Nissan Frontier and zero dollars. Zero dollars didn’t seem like such a bad thing at the time, as we had had much less while pregnant with our daughter the previous year. And by much less, I mean “borrow money from grandma to pay the bills during maternity leave” dollars.

So we sold the pickup, found a low rate used car dealership and purchased a crappy minivan.

Low rate is an understatement here. The salesman also doubled as the financier and mechanic and swore at both the computer screen and loan officer in front of the kids while processing the paperwork. Which caused me to giggle, which caused me to choke while trying to stifle my giggle, which caused me to have to walk away from his desk choking. It took almost three hours to complete the process, a time period that allowed our son to take several of the toys from the kids’ play area into the bathroom and dump them in the toilet. In full disclosure, I threw those toys right back into the toy bin, so maybe think twice before ever letting your kid touch anything in a low rate car dealership.

The van lasted three-and-a-half years.

We often joked that it was a rescue and we didn’t know what it had been through in its previous life. It took months to get the title from somewhere in Connecticut where it had been repossessed. The A/C never quite worked right, a fact that three trips to the mechanics couldn’t fix, and the electrical components misfired often. Three of the windows didn’t go down and the remaining one rarely went back up.

I also backed into three different vehicles with it during that time. Three children under the age of four is a good recipe for distracted driving.

Those years were some of the most beautiful of our lives as we watched the children and our careers grow. I can’t say I cherished every moment, but knowing how quickly time passed with our older two children definitely changed the way I approached the early days with our youngest son. I knew the sleepless nights would pass, that he would hit each milestone at his own pace, that the unintelligible crying would give way to words in what seemed like an instant.

Those years were also some of the hardest, filled with diapers, daycare expenses, doctor appointments and hospital bills. The constant shortage of resources—time, money, sleep–was frustrating, exhausting and at times, completely defeating. I read and speak often about the importance of staying “in the moment,” but there were times during those three years when I would have given anything for a reprieve from the moment. “This too shall pass” became somewhat of a mantra, though it often fell flat in providing any comfort.

After seven years, we are finally on the other side of that stage. All three kids are now out of diapers and two are mostly out of daycare. We’re no longer constantly concerned about the next paycheck, and our newish van has four windows that go both up and down and a fully functioning air conditioning system.

Yesterday, the heat index hit well over 100. I rolled down the windows, cranked the A/C and for the first time in a long time, breathed deeply towards the future.

This post was originally published on Beer and Junk, Adventures in Parenting. 

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About the Author

Kelly Bay is a mom, wife, business owner and all around boss lady. In her free time she enjoys writing, day drinking and not cleaning her house. She has been published on She is Fierce, Sammiches and Psych Meds and Scary Mommy. Read more of her thoughts on parenting, raising strong girls, mindfulness and finding joy in the chaos at www.beerandjunk.com. You can also follow Kelly on Facebook and Pinterest.