For about the last month, I’ve been driving around with the worst kind of stink in my car ever — like dead body stink. And, somehow, I’ve managed to ignore it, thinking it would go away. Guess what? It didn’t. As the saying goes, “De Nial ain’t just a river in Egypt.” It probably goes hand in hand with the fact that, when my car makes a funny noise, I turn up the radio.

My husband couldn’t take me putting my head in the sand anymore, and we went in there dug around until he found the problem. It was something that had possibly once been alive that was in my son’s bag in the trunk. I’ve just accepted this as my fate, as I have what can only be described as a mom car.

Mom cars might be minivans, SUVs, and sedans — it doesn’t matter what kind of car they are, but they’re all disgusting and possibly breeding bacteria. Between the fast food wrappers, kid projects, and endless bottles strewn amongst the floor, I’ve often wondered whether a homeless person was squatting in mine. 

It’s not that I don’t try to keep the car clean. In fact, right before “the stink episode,” I had gotten my car detailed — not even just washed, folks. Detailed! It’s a futile uphill battle that all moms face. My kids are only 2 and 5. I can’t even imagine what it will be like when they’re teens and tweens. Between the sports equipment, other stinky boys, and food stains sure to fill it, I can only imagine it will something like feet or cheese… or feet mixed with cheese.

‘Member when we used to drive our little convertibles around town, with the top down, and guys would think we were cool? Okay, I never did that. But you know what I’m saying. Our cars, much like our purses, were certainly a lot of different pre and post-mom. But, hey, I figure you really can only have either your house OR car clean at any given time, not both. Who’s got time for that? And ya know what? I choose to have a clean house. Oh, and hanging with my kids. 

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