A new year is upon us and I, as a compulsive goal setter even on a normal day, get undeniably giddy at the prospect of a whole new year in need of resolutions. I am aware that cynics question the virtue of goal setting at the start of a new year, given that only 8% of people who make new year's resolutions actually accomplish them. As dismal as the statistics may be, I still believe that setting goals to welcome in the new year is a worthwhile endeavor. I submit that it is not the act of keeping your goal that makes you a better person, but the act of setting a goal in the first place.
When you make a resolution to be or do something better, it says a number of things about you. First and foremost, it shows that you are humble enough to recognize a need for change; that's always the first step in any worthwhile endeavor. The act of goal setting also signifies that you believe in yourself. As long as that hope is still alive, nobody can take success away from you.
According to a study conducted at the University of Scranton, "people who explicitly make resolutions are 10 times more likely to
attain their goals than people who don’t explicitly make resolutions." Even if you doubt the longevity of your commitment to your resolutions, that doesn't mean you shouldn't make them.
So, here's to tossing out fear and setting goals despite what the statistics say. Here's to focusing on what you can do today, not tomorrow, next week or next month. Here's to a new year full of possibilities!
This year, I will not let the fear of failure keep me from doing something I feel compelled to do. I am so excited to go sit down with my sticky notes and get to work making myself and my family better. Happy New Year!
Five Kids
Friday, December 28, 2012
Monday, December 24, 2012
'Twas The Night Before Christmas Remix
It's Christmas Eve. Our stockings are stuffed, and our children are dreaming. Before sugarplums are allowed to dance in my head, however, I need to take a moment to post some of the thoughts I have had this Christmas season.
I've been thinking about giving, largely because of a book I read recently titled "The Mansion" by Henry Van Dyke. It's a short Christmas story that's been around for ages, but I had never read it until now. It's about a wealthy man who loves giving to others, but he always takes great care to give in a way that he will be recognized for his gifts. Funding hospital wings that will be named after him, donating large sums of money to local charities that honor him for his contributions, and other such endeavors are what his life has been made of.
On Christmas Eve, his son asks him for some money to help a dear friend suffering from a disease. The friend will likely not recover, whether he gets the money or not, though it would ease the burden felt by the family as the head of their household suffers. The father knows that no recognition will come to him for helping his son's friend, so he refuses. Shortly after, he falls asleep and has a dream that he has died and gone to heaven. There he discovers that throughout life, all the good deeds you do are built into a mansion for you to live in when you get to heaven.
He eagerly anticipates the stately one that must surely be waiting for him, and is shocked when he sees that his heavenly home is but a small shack. He asks why and is told that he already received retribution for each of his good deeds when he was recognized and heralded on earth. He then asks in confusion, "What is it that counts here?"
The answer comes, "Only that good which is done for the love of doing it. Only those plans in which the welfare of others is the master thought. Only those labors in which the sacrifice is greater than the reward. Only those gifts in which the giver forgets himself."
This is exactly the way the Savior gives to us. Each Christmas I struggle to remember why we give gifts in the first place. I believe it is to remember the gift of a baby, given so long ago yet renewed each and every day. Celebrating this selfless and humble giving is what should be at the heart of our christmas gifting. Yet this is precisely what I often forget in my efforts to purchase just the right toys for each of my children, or make sure they will all feel that they have a fair share of the gifts under the tree come Christmas morning.
As another busy shopping season has come to an end and the presents are wrapped and strategically placed under the tree, I am free to sit back and admire the beauty surrounding me. My thoughts are turning to the Savior and I'm realizing that I've done it again. In my haste to tie up all the loose ends before tonight, I lost sight of the 'why' in my holiday gift giving. So I have re-written the words to the poem, "Twas the Night Before Christmas" to express my sentiments, hopefully in a lighthearted way. Because, despite the craziness of the month, it has been a truly wonderful Christmas season and for that, I am thankful!
I've been thinking about giving, largely because of a book I read recently titled "The Mansion" by Henry Van Dyke. It's a short Christmas story that's been around for ages, but I had never read it until now. It's about a wealthy man who loves giving to others, but he always takes great care to give in a way that he will be recognized for his gifts. Funding hospital wings that will be named after him, donating large sums of money to local charities that honor him for his contributions, and other such endeavors are what his life has been made of.
On Christmas Eve, his son asks him for some money to help a dear friend suffering from a disease. The friend will likely not recover, whether he gets the money or not, though it would ease the burden felt by the family as the head of their household suffers. The father knows that no recognition will come to him for helping his son's friend, so he refuses. Shortly after, he falls asleep and has a dream that he has died and gone to heaven. There he discovers that throughout life, all the good deeds you do are built into a mansion for you to live in when you get to heaven.
He eagerly anticipates the stately one that must surely be waiting for him, and is shocked when he sees that his heavenly home is but a small shack. He asks why and is told that he already received retribution for each of his good deeds when he was recognized and heralded on earth. He then asks in confusion, "What is it that counts here?"
The answer comes, "Only that good which is done for the love of doing it. Only those plans in which the welfare of others is the master thought. Only those labors in which the sacrifice is greater than the reward. Only those gifts in which the giver forgets himself."
This is exactly the way the Savior gives to us. Each Christmas I struggle to remember why we give gifts in the first place. I believe it is to remember the gift of a baby, given so long ago yet renewed each and every day. Celebrating this selfless and humble giving is what should be at the heart of our christmas gifting. Yet this is precisely what I often forget in my efforts to purchase just the right toys for each of my children, or make sure they will all feel that they have a fair share of the gifts under the tree come Christmas morning.
As another busy shopping season has come to an end and the presents are wrapped and strategically placed under the tree, I am free to sit back and admire the beauty surrounding me. My thoughts are turning to the Savior and I'm realizing that I've done it again. In my haste to tie up all the loose ends before tonight, I lost sight of the 'why' in my holiday gift giving. So I have re-written the words to the poem, "Twas the Night Before Christmas" to express my sentiments, hopefully in a lighthearted way. Because, despite the craziness of the month, it has been a truly wonderful Christmas season and for that, I am thankful!
'Twas the night before Christmas
and throughout the space,
Two parents were scurrying
all over the place.
Five stockings to stuff
and presents to wrap,
One mom simply thinking
I just need a nap!
Five children excited,
too hyper for bed.
Begging and pleading
for one slice of bread.
"No more drinks, no more food
Please go brush your teeth!
Your father and I--
we just need some sleep!"
When at last peaceful silence
fell over the house,
The five sleeping children
they dared not arouse.
The parents then put on
their Santa Claus caps,
They gathered the presents,
then wrapped, wrapped, and wrapped.
They placed all the gifts
'neath the tree with great care,
Settled down on the couch,
cozied up and then stared.
Christmas lights shining bright
like the star on that night,
Twinkled brightly and painted
a heavenly sight.
They gazed on in wonder
thinking thoughts to themselves,
Not anywhere close
to reindeer or elves.
On a night just like this
in a stable so small,
One child was born
as a gift to us all.
Each year we remember
his miraculous birth,
And what He gave us
by His coming to earth.
Two parents sat, humbled,
exhaustion forgot.
As they took in the tree
and piles of gifts they had bought.
The presents are nice;
ones the kids will adore.
Yet their service to others
would mean so much more.
Then they vowed to remember
throughout the next year,
The night they recieved
a baby so dear.
His gift given in love,
no glory in sight.
Merry Christmas to all,
and to all a good night!
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
When There Are No Words
I have often thought that being a mom is like taking your heart out and watching it walk around. I feel it especially poignantly every time I put a new little kindergartener on the bus and watch it drive away without me. I ache sending something as fragile and precious as my own heart someplace that I can't take care of it, but it's an essential and unavoidable part of being a mother. Our children need to learn independence and they can't do it if we keep them in little glass boxes, no matter how much we would like to try.
My heart aches and my tears fall for those mothers who have lost their hearts this past weekend in Sandy Hook. My children were asked to draw some pictures for the funeral of Emilie Parker, who always enjoyed drawing pictures to help others feel better. I wanted to share them here since, in a moment like this, words simply do not suffice and the innocence of a child can often make a difference where nothing else will.
My heart aches and my tears fall for those mothers who have lost their hearts this past weekend in Sandy Hook. My children were asked to draw some pictures for the funeral of Emilie Parker, who always enjoyed drawing pictures to help others feel better. I wanted to share them here since, in a moment like this, words simply do not suffice and the innocence of a child can often make a difference where nothing else will.
by Plucky
by Bright
by Mellow
by Energy
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Shiny, Happy Blog
As I write about my experiences as a SAHM it is my intent to be candid, but I have been told that I often sound pessimistic as I rant and rave about the craziness that is my life. Pessimism is certainly not my intent (though I must admit it's easier than optimism)--I am merely trying to be realistic.
I dislike the idea of writing only about the good while pretending the bad never happened. Life can be hard, yet awesome at the same time. In fact, it's the hard that makes life good, and this applies to motherhood in a very real way. If it wasn't hard, it wouldn't be worth doing. I don't recall hearing anyone tell me as a youth that being a grown-up was hard, though maybe they did and I just chose not to hear it. When I read back over my blog in years to come I don't want to see only the shiny, happy moments. I want to remember it all--the good times and the difficult times together. But, that being said, perhaps in my efforts to avoid writing an overly happy blog I focus more on the hard than I do on the good.
So, to atone for my oversight and occasional pessimism, the rest of this post is going to focus only on the sublime. Here are my top ten shiny, happy moments from this week:
10. I loved watching Mellow and Bright come up with an ad campaign for a new series of books they are co-authoring. They made several flyers and advertisements for their books, with amazingly drawn pictures and persuasive wording. And my favorite part was the disclaimer they included at the bottom of every flyer: "Sorry, books are not done yet, but they will be soon." We now have advertisements inviting us to come check the books out (when they are done, of course) posted all over our house.
9. Seeing Plucky's beautiful smile when she walks in the door after school. As a preschooler, she has yet to feel the burden of having homework waiting for her when she gets home after a long day. She is therefore always in a great mood when she gets home. Her happiness is infectious and I am (and have been for awhile now) quite envious of her cute dimples.
8. Hearing Caboose say the word "ball" over and over again in various shrill registers and at differing levels of excitement that seem to be directly proportionate to how large of a ball he has found. He discovers them all over the place--whether it is an errant marble that has rolled under the fridge just for him to find, a soccer ball one of the kids has left out, or even the massive red stone 'balls' cemented to the ground outside of our local Target, he is quick to point them out whenever he sees one.
7. Sitting down to teach my children piano lessons and being blown away, yet again, at how good they are getting. They have put in a lot of time practicing over the years, of course, but still I think to myself every time, "I did that". If I was not putting in the effort of sitting down to teach them a lesson every week and reminding/requesting/cajoling them to practice, then they would not be where they are today.
6. Watching little Caboose playing in the bathtub. It's his favorite time of day and seeing his uninhibited joy while playing in the tub makes it one of my favorite times of day as well. Plus, he's so darn cute in his birthday suit!
5. Seeing Plucky and Caboose finally connecting in a way that doesn't involve Caboose getting hurt, as they discovered today that playing together is more fun than fighting.
4. Snuggling with each of my kids as I tuck them into bed every night. It is at this time of day that the walls are down and they let me see into their souls. Though I am often tired and eager to get to the tasks that have been waiting all day for a quiet moment, I still relish the chance to receive their sincere hugs and expressions of love.
3. Watching Caboose inadvertently push a button or bump a toy that suddenly bursts into song, at which point he halts, drops whatever he is doing, and starts bouncing and bobbing his head to the music. And while we are on the subject of dancing, I love watching all of my kids dance. Impromptu dance parties in the kitchen are one of my favorite family activities--the more the merrier!
2. Sneaking into my baby's bedroom late at night and taking him out of his crib to rock him while he is sleeping. I seem to be getting bolder as the years fly by because when my other children were babies, I never would have risked taking them out of their cribs late at night for fear they would wake up. But I understand now that I won't have a baby in the house forever, and though babies make my daytime hours exceedingly difficult in many ways, there is still something special about having one around. And kissing a sleeping baby who is cradled in your arms is the best thing ever.
1. Witnessing Energy, Mellow, Bright and Plucky all dancing around the kitchen cheering that "mom's the best" when they tasted the fudge I made. After dessert was over they called a secret kid meeting and disappeared, taking Caboose with them. Several minutes later, they came marching into the kitchen chanting that they wanted more fudge. Though loud, it was a very organized protest complete with signs and a cute baby meant to sway me. I had to laugh at their initiative and I rather enjoyed being the hero of the day for making some seriously awesome Christmas fudge! Being a mom rocks!
I dislike the idea of writing only about the good while pretending the bad never happened. Life can be hard, yet awesome at the same time. In fact, it's the hard that makes life good, and this applies to motherhood in a very real way. If it wasn't hard, it wouldn't be worth doing. I don't recall hearing anyone tell me as a youth that being a grown-up was hard, though maybe they did and I just chose not to hear it. When I read back over my blog in years to come I don't want to see only the shiny, happy moments. I want to remember it all--the good times and the difficult times together. But, that being said, perhaps in my efforts to avoid writing an overly happy blog I focus more on the hard than I do on the good.
So, to atone for my oversight and occasional pessimism, the rest of this post is going to focus only on the sublime. Here are my top ten shiny, happy moments from this week:
10. I loved watching Mellow and Bright come up with an ad campaign for a new series of books they are co-authoring. They made several flyers and advertisements for their books, with amazingly drawn pictures and persuasive wording. And my favorite part was the disclaimer they included at the bottom of every flyer: "Sorry, books are not done yet, but they will be soon." We now have advertisements inviting us to come check the books out (when they are done, of course) posted all over our house.
9. Seeing Plucky's beautiful smile when she walks in the door after school. As a preschooler, she has yet to feel the burden of having homework waiting for her when she gets home after a long day. She is therefore always in a great mood when she gets home. Her happiness is infectious and I am (and have been for awhile now) quite envious of her cute dimples.
8. Hearing Caboose say the word "ball" over and over again in various shrill registers and at differing levels of excitement that seem to be directly proportionate to how large of a ball he has found. He discovers them all over the place--whether it is an errant marble that has rolled under the fridge just for him to find, a soccer ball one of the kids has left out, or even the massive red stone 'balls' cemented to the ground outside of our local Target, he is quick to point them out whenever he sees one.
7. Sitting down to teach my children piano lessons and being blown away, yet again, at how good they are getting. They have put in a lot of time practicing over the years, of course, but still I think to myself every time, "I did that". If I was not putting in the effort of sitting down to teach them a lesson every week and reminding/requesting/cajoling them to practice, then they would not be where they are today.
6. Watching little Caboose playing in the bathtub. It's his favorite time of day and seeing his uninhibited joy while playing in the tub makes it one of my favorite times of day as well. Plus, he's so darn cute in his birthday suit!
5. Seeing Plucky and Caboose finally connecting in a way that doesn't involve Caboose getting hurt, as they discovered today that playing together is more fun than fighting.
4. Snuggling with each of my kids as I tuck them into bed every night. It is at this time of day that the walls are down and they let me see into their souls. Though I am often tired and eager to get to the tasks that have been waiting all day for a quiet moment, I still relish the chance to receive their sincere hugs and expressions of love.
3. Watching Caboose inadvertently push a button or bump a toy that suddenly bursts into song, at which point he halts, drops whatever he is doing, and starts bouncing and bobbing his head to the music. And while we are on the subject of dancing, I love watching all of my kids dance. Impromptu dance parties in the kitchen are one of my favorite family activities--the more the merrier!
2. Sneaking into my baby's bedroom late at night and taking him out of his crib to rock him while he is sleeping. I seem to be getting bolder as the years fly by because when my other children were babies, I never would have risked taking them out of their cribs late at night for fear they would wake up. But I understand now that I won't have a baby in the house forever, and though babies make my daytime hours exceedingly difficult in many ways, there is still something special about having one around. And kissing a sleeping baby who is cradled in your arms is the best thing ever.
1. Witnessing Energy, Mellow, Bright and Plucky all dancing around the kitchen cheering that "mom's the best" when they tasted the fudge I made. After dessert was over they called a secret kid meeting and disappeared, taking Caboose with them. Several minutes later, they came marching into the kitchen chanting that they wanted more fudge. Though loud, it was a very organized protest complete with signs and a cute baby meant to sway me. I had to laugh at their initiative and I rather enjoyed being the hero of the day for making some seriously awesome Christmas fudge! Being a mom rocks!
Friday, December 7, 2012
The Baby Bewitching Hour
A wise friend once told me of the phenomenon she had termed the "Baby Bewitching Hour". You know, it's that hour (or two) before dinner when all babies freak out inexplicably. (Note that sometimes the term 'baby' is applied loosley to include anyone deserving of it).
As of late, my baby bewitching hours have been particularly horrendous and I have found myself either in or near tears several nights this week. Tonight was particularly bad and I ended up slumped on the floor of the kitchen as I finally let out the tears I have been bravely keeping in all week.
That's when little Caboose came toddling in wearing an innocent grin that lit up immediately when he saw me sitting at his eye level. He came over and climbed into my lap, using me as a step-stool to reach for something he saw up on the counter. Realizing he still wasn't tall enough, he climbed off and continued on his merry way. (Did you notice the fact that the baby was merry? Yes, the baby-like antics were not coming from the baby of the house tonight, though his fascination for climbing on and falling off of the kitchen table repeatedly certainly did not help).
Even though my little breath of fresh air didn't stay with me long, it did bring a smile to my face and left me with a much-needed reminder of the beauty and innocence of children. My stint on the kitchen floor also reminded me of a similar incident that occurred a year or so ago when I was pregnant with Caboose.
It was my hardest pregnancy yet and not even halfway through it, I noticed I was becoming monumentally overwhelmed by things that wouldn't normally phase me. It was a tough winter and we had been bombarded with snow that never melted until there were four-five feet drifts crowding into the streets wherever you went. I felt in a very real way that I was being buried alive.
It was in this frame of mind that I was asked to speak in church about the importance of children. As part of my talk I wrote about a similar crying episode I had on the kitchen floor and what it taught me. Luckily, I saved the talk and I went in search of it tonight to see if I could learn the same lesson again without putting too much effort into the thought process. Here is my direct quote:
Children have a special gift of helping us to see things in a simpler way when adult issues seem to be pressing in on us from every side. A few weeks ago I was having what we have now termed in our house as a P.I.E.B., or a Pregnancy-Induced Emotional Breakdown. I was cooking dinner and had opened the drawer under my oven to get out a pan I needed. The drawer has been broken for several months and always slides in a bit crookedly. Well, this time, the drawer wouldn’t slide in at all. I tried over and over again to get it to go back in with no luck until I finally burst into tears. The oven drawer became instantly symbolic of all the things in my life that I couldn’t control, the most oppressive of which on that particular day was the ominous snow piles and ice dams on my roof that were just growing taller and taller each day, threatening to suffocate me. Added to my inability to keep my house clean or get dinner on the table on time and a host of other things that seemed so important that day and it became quite a burden to carry. My daughter (Plucky) witnessed the whole embarrassing episode because she loves to help me cook and is always right at my side in the kitchen. She watched me crying for a few minutes, a little unsure as to what to do since this was a first for her. Soon she looked at me and said simply, “(Plucky) loves Mommy”. My sweet daughter couldn’t understand the things that were weighing me down, but she knew that the most important thing should be love. And really she was right. The love of a child is simple and pure, just like the love of our Savior. None of those other things really mattered and I’m thankful for the children in my life that constantly remind me of the Savior’s love and what is truly important.
Well, I'm glad I found the talk because my brain certainly wasn't headed in the same place tonight. At this time of year especially, as we celebrate the birth of Christ, what better way is there to remember Him than to recognize the love of our children?
After Caboose toddled out of the room, the main offender tonight heard me crying and came into the kitchen, also in tears, and fell into my lap. We both had things to apologize for and we did. I am grateful for children who forgive me when I mess up and love me even when they have a reason not to.
Going forward, I don't really know what to do about the baby bewitching hour. It is what it is, I guess, and I'll just have to take it one day at a time. As for today, I'm happy that it's over!
As of late, my baby bewitching hours have been particularly horrendous and I have found myself either in or near tears several nights this week. Tonight was particularly bad and I ended up slumped on the floor of the kitchen as I finally let out the tears I have been bravely keeping in all week.
That's when little Caboose came toddling in wearing an innocent grin that lit up immediately when he saw me sitting at his eye level. He came over and climbed into my lap, using me as a step-stool to reach for something he saw up on the counter. Realizing he still wasn't tall enough, he climbed off and continued on his merry way. (Did you notice the fact that the baby was merry? Yes, the baby-like antics were not coming from the baby of the house tonight, though his fascination for climbing on and falling off of the kitchen table repeatedly certainly did not help).
Even though my little breath of fresh air didn't stay with me long, it did bring a smile to my face and left me with a much-needed reminder of the beauty and innocence of children. My stint on the kitchen floor also reminded me of a similar incident that occurred a year or so ago when I was pregnant with Caboose.
It was my hardest pregnancy yet and not even halfway through it, I noticed I was becoming monumentally overwhelmed by things that wouldn't normally phase me. It was a tough winter and we had been bombarded with snow that never melted until there were four-five feet drifts crowding into the streets wherever you went. I felt in a very real way that I was being buried alive.
It was in this frame of mind that I was asked to speak in church about the importance of children. As part of my talk I wrote about a similar crying episode I had on the kitchen floor and what it taught me. Luckily, I saved the talk and I went in search of it tonight to see if I could learn the same lesson again without putting too much effort into the thought process. Here is my direct quote:
Children have a special gift of helping us to see things in a simpler way when adult issues seem to be pressing in on us from every side. A few weeks ago I was having what we have now termed in our house as a P.I.E.B., or a Pregnancy-Induced Emotional Breakdown. I was cooking dinner and had opened the drawer under my oven to get out a pan I needed. The drawer has been broken for several months and always slides in a bit crookedly. Well, this time, the drawer wouldn’t slide in at all. I tried over and over again to get it to go back in with no luck until I finally burst into tears. The oven drawer became instantly symbolic of all the things in my life that I couldn’t control, the most oppressive of which on that particular day was the ominous snow piles and ice dams on my roof that were just growing taller and taller each day, threatening to suffocate me. Added to my inability to keep my house clean or get dinner on the table on time and a host of other things that seemed so important that day and it became quite a burden to carry. My daughter (Plucky) witnessed the whole embarrassing episode because she loves to help me cook and is always right at my side in the kitchen. She watched me crying for a few minutes, a little unsure as to what to do since this was a first for her. Soon she looked at me and said simply, “(Plucky) loves Mommy”. My sweet daughter couldn’t understand the things that were weighing me down, but she knew that the most important thing should be love. And really she was right. The love of a child is simple and pure, just like the love of our Savior. None of those other things really mattered and I’m thankful for the children in my life that constantly remind me of the Savior’s love and what is truly important.
Well, I'm glad I found the talk because my brain certainly wasn't headed in the same place tonight. At this time of year especially, as we celebrate the birth of Christ, what better way is there to remember Him than to recognize the love of our children?
After Caboose toddled out of the room, the main offender tonight heard me crying and came into the kitchen, also in tears, and fell into my lap. We both had things to apologize for and we did. I am grateful for children who forgive me when I mess up and love me even when they have a reason not to.
Going forward, I don't really know what to do about the baby bewitching hour. It is what it is, I guess, and I'll just have to take it one day at a time. As for today, I'm happy that it's over!
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Embracing the Minivan
It's December 1st and I have been blogging for just over a month! To celebrate the occasion, and taking into consideration the Christmas season, I have written a song to be sung to the tune of "Oh Christmas Tree."
The words to this song were inspired by the sentiment I hear from moms all over that they wouldn't be caught dead driving a minivan. I happen to love my minivan and, quite frankly, I don't really see what's so bad about them. They have lots of seat belts--enough for all my kids plus a friend or two, the trunk space is about a hundred times what it was in the Ford Expedition I drove up until two years ago, and I don't leave the gas station in tears every time I have to fill it up.
So, for all of the minivan haters out there, or for anyone who needs a little persuasion, I hope this little tune will encourage you to embrace the minivan, too!
Sing to the tune of 'Oh Christmas Tree':
The words to this song were inspired by the sentiment I hear from moms all over that they wouldn't be caught dead driving a minivan. I happen to love my minivan and, quite frankly, I don't really see what's so bad about them. They have lots of seat belts--enough for all my kids plus a friend or two, the trunk space is about a hundred times what it was in the Ford Expedition I drove up until two years ago, and I don't leave the gas station in tears every time I have to fill it up.
So, for all of the minivan haters out there, or for anyone who needs a little persuasion, I hope this little tune will encourage you to embrace the minivan, too!
Sing to the tune of 'Oh Christmas Tree':
Oh Minivan, oh minivan,
you hold us all so nicely.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan
long trips--they don't get dicey.
You fit our fam'ly,
all seven.
And still a belt
for one more friend.
Oh minivan, oh minivan
you hold us all so nicely.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan,
your virtues are amazing.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan
the perks--they're never ending.
Sunglasses case,
hidden sunshades,
secret compartments,
space in spades.
Oh minivan, oh minivan
your virtues are amazing.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan,
gas used to be expensive.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan
now it's not prohibitive.
Pain at the pump
has really eased,
since when I drove
an SUV.
Oh minivan, oh minivan
gas used to be expensive.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan,
you help me carry groceries.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan
loading them up is a breeze.
Return from Costco
with our junk,
Entire cart
fits in the trunk.
Oh minivan, oh minivan
you help me carry groceries.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan,
your fold-down seats astound me.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan
making more room is easy.
And when my kids
with all their stuff,
require some space--
always enough.
Oh minivan, oh minivan
your fold-down seats astound me.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan,
you make me smile all day.
Oh Minivan, oh minivan
now that you're here to stay.
My happiness
it is complete,
now that I have
an Odyssey.
Oh minivan, oh minivan
you make me smile all day.
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