Do you ever feel like I do, that we are treated differently because of the various cars we drive? I don’t mean in the obvious fashion, like a red Ferrari who gets pulled over for speeding even when it’s standing still. No, I mean in much more subtle ways. I mean like how everyone on the road expects that my minivan will never reach 45 mph and they make sure to pass me as soon as they see me on the road.I think it’s the little sticker family on the back of my van honestly. I think they are back there waving people on. “Go ahead, Mr. Audi. If you ever want to get to work, you’d better just pass us now.”

But the truth is that I’m just as likely to be going seven over the speed limit as the businessman next to me. My minivan is a V-6, baby. I’m not lolly-gagging around the roads here. I’ve got school and work and errands to get done. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve been branded slow and in the way by virtue of minivan default.

This phenomena also does not help when other cars feel safe to pull right out in front of me on an everyday basis. It’s a good thing children have to be buckled in nowadays, or they would have more bruises from mommy slamming on the brakes than playing on the playground.

To be fair, it’s not just me. I’ve seen teenagers labeled reckless, old people forced off the road and landscapers disgraced for having too much loose junk in the back of their trucks. Well really, who else is going to haul your yard clippings away? Are you going to do it in your BMW? I didn’t think so.

And to be honest, I’m not entirely innocent either. However I’m more of a bumper sticker judge than a vehicle snob. If you’ve got naked ladies on your car, I’ve lost all respect for you already. If you have an advertisement for your own small business, I give you kudos for getting out there and making something happen for yourself. If you’re a Christian with a Jesus fish on your Oldsmobile, I’m proud that you can display your beliefs to the public. And if you’ve got a military emblem anywhere, I’ll gladly give you the right of way.

Even if I don’t approve of what you’ve got on your car, I won’t hold it against you. Much. But already having the minivan bulls-eye on myself, I am wary of adding any extra ornamentation of my own. I shudder to think what will happen when someone finally gives me that inevitable “Mom’s Taxi” license plate cover.

Here’s the thing about parents. We are not an elite group of highly trained, intelligent and experienced human beings that were hand-picked by someone important or official who knew what they were doing. We are merely very average, very confused and just as surprised as you are that we have such an awesome responsibility set before us each day.We did not have to take any classes for this job, nor did we have to fill out an application or prove our worth in any way. In fact if you’ve adopted a pet from the Arizona Humane Society lately, you have been interviewed with more scrutiny than the average mom or dad on the street.

My family was basically turned down the first time we requested to adopt our new cat. We weren’t willing to guarantee them that this cat would never step one foot outside our back door. We were, to our detriment, just being honest. I have three kids in the house, and a cat has much faster reflexes than they do. If a cat decides to sneak out the door, the cat is most likely going to get out.

I told the A.H.S. people that I would do my best. But that apparently, was not good enough. Without signing a paper stating to the effect that this cat would NEVER, EVER under ANY circumstances step outside the door… we could not take our new cat home.

And we left, without the cat.

The next day after much griping between my husband and I, we resolved to get that fuzzy orange thing home no matter what the cost. So we returned. We found a new person to show us the cat, and we lied. “We promise, oh great entity that saves umpteen animals from death’s door each day, that this cute ball of fluff will never see the light of day”.

What a terrible thing to do to an animal, really. To keep it inside and never allow it to explore the sweet smell of grass or to chase all the crunchy, juicy bugs of the world. But we’ve made a promise and so far we’re sticking to it.

What promises have I made in regards to my children though? I don’t remember ever signing a letter stating that I would keep them out of the street, away from water or to use gallons and gallons of sunscreen on them each summer.

But then again, maybe I did. Maybe the moment the doctor puts that wet, wiggling wonder into our arms, our hearts write a little signature on their tiny little lives that we will do everything in our power to keep them safe and sound until they are grown. A little silent ceremony between us.

“I take you, Nick and Emma; for better or worse, for richer or poorer, through midnight stomach aches and a hundred dance recitals. I promise to love you and cherish you, for as long as you both shall live. Amen.”

And unlike the cat, these promises I know I will never break.