Tales from the Stretch-Mark-Mobile

I don’t know about the rest of you moms and dads out there, but I never thought I’d covet other people’s vehicles so much.  Really, it used to be that what I drove only had to get good gas mileage and have ABS brakes.  An AM/FM radio was a plus, but I could make up for such deficiencies by just singing along with the voices in my head.  All that changed when I found I was pregnant with our third child.  Suddenly, getting three car seats far enough apart from one another became cause enough to give up my slightly cooler vehicle for what I like to think of as the “Stretch-Mark-Mobile.”

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Stop the Merry-Go-Round, I’d Really Like to Get Off.

Some days, I get why all those 1950s moms were hopped up on Valium much of the time.  It’s days like that when I really wish I could “Calgon, Take Me Away” right to some deserted desert island complete with a cute cabana boy and lots of those drinks that come in coconuts and sport a wee paper umbrella swizzle stick.  Of course, knowing my kids, they would figure out a way to find me.  I swear, the umbilical cord may be cut, but you birth a baby and they get a GPS unit more effective than anything Garmin could ever whip off an assembly line.  So, thank all that is good that I have a husband who can take over while I lock myself in the bathroom or do some mindless aisle therapy at the nearest shopping realm.  (And I’m not even much of a shopper!  Of course, my local Target understands motherhood.  Have an in-store Starbucks and a magazine rack and the frustrated mamas will come by the van load.  Ka-ching.)

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