CHOCOLATE-FUELLED THOUGHTS
Why We Sold The Sprinter aka The Beast
Before I can tell you about the new van (aka Sexy Beast), I feel like I should explain why the Original Beast had to go.
Maybe somebody can learn from our mistakes.
You people know me. I research things to death before we ever make a purchase. Especially when it comes to cars. So it was incredibly frustrating to have this purchase go so awry.
We decided we wanted a Sprinter for several reasons. We knew people who had a passenger Sprinter and loved it. It had a great turning radius. The diesel engine got fantastic mileage, something that matters when you’re driving a 3 ton machine. And, well, to be honest, we knew we DIDN’T want a Chevy or a Ford.
The Beast was a 2006 Sprinter. This was the year that Sprinters became Mercedes vehicles instead of Dodge vehicles. This meant it was a smorgasbord of Dodge parts with a Mercedes engine. The van we purchased was a cargo van that was converted to hold passengers.
These are important details, trust me.
If you remember, when we first got the Beast, it almost immediately ceased to work.
Our biggest problem was finding someone to fix it. Because it was a 2006, the Dodge dealership wouldn’t work on it and the Mercedes people claimed they couldn’t work on it either. Our favorite mechanic fired us after several tries, telling us he just plain didn’t know what to do with the thing. Mechanic-shopping meant that for the first few months we owned our van, we drove it less than half that time.
Eventually, we found a great place to get it serviced where their British mechanic was more familiar with Sprinters. It was still a bit of a question mark because of the specific year of our van, but they at least had the resources available to solve our problems.
Even after the Beast was considered “in working order,” we didn’t exactly trust it. There was a mysterious leak that required us to fill up with coolant almost every day. The air conditioner in the back was hit or miss. There seemed to be some water coming in the back from an unknown source. We just felt a bit uneasy any time we drove it.
Added to that, the front of the van was still very much like a FedEx truck. Andrew and I sat right over the engine on uncomfortable seats. We couldn’t hear anything over the noise (which was sometimes nice) and during my pregnancy I couldn’t ride in the Beast without having contractions from all the bumps. There were no bells or whistles up front and without cruise control, a trip in the Beast was exhausting for the grown-ups.
Now the back of the van was a different story.
The kids had plush leather seats, extra lighting, and a great center aisle. I loved that center aisle. The issue with the back was that it had been converted by an unknown company. Any service place we took it to wouldn’t touch the back half because they said it was “custom” work and they couldn’t fix it. The rear air conditioner? Unfixable. The seat belt issue with one of the seats? Had to be fixed by Andrew. If the rope lights didn’t work? Nobody would touch it.
The wear and tear to our mental state of mind simply ceased to be worth it and we gave up. The Beast has a new home and we couldn’t be more thrilled about it.
Our experience with the Sprinter taught us a few tips I’ll pass on to you:
1- Find a mechanic who is familiar with Sprinters, not just European engines. These vans are quirky and it’s helpful to know somebody who understands the quirks. Andrew does a lot of our car work here at home, but the diesel engine was unfamiliar territory and he had no one to teach him. (Worse still, our 2006 van came with NO manual and there wasn’t one available on line.)
2 – Don’t purchase a converted van. This holds true for whatever type of van you buy. Unless you know where the conversion was done and you don’t mind taking your van to them any time something in the back seat breaks, don’t bother with a conversion. It was too much trouble to sort out who was responsible for which parts of the van when all we really wanted was for everything to work as it should.
My understanding is that the passenger Sprinters that were actually intended for passengers are really great. And the gas mileage was absolutely fantastic. I loved the height and the extra cargo space. Furthermore, I already miss the power that the roaring engine in the Sprinter gave us.
But it wasn’t the van for our family.
R.I.P. BEAST.
Now that we have that out of the way, I’ll write up a review soon about the van that IS for us…
You’re Doing It.
Mother’s Day 2012
All too often I hear the words, “I don’t know how you do it.”
And I’ve told you all: the truth is, neither do I. I don’t know how any of us do it. Mothering is two parts mundane to one part super hero.
Andrew was out of town all week and came home sick. My in-laws very sweetly stayed a little longer to keep us all afloat. The kids had doctor appointments, my stupid arm slowed me down, and Ravenous Finn needed me often, as babies do. Even though I had two extra sets of hands (thank you, Gran and Pops), my head barely ceased rotating circles above my shoulders. All the while, my inner voice whispered, “I can’t. I can’t do this.”
At some point, I was rushing off to another appointment and I had a moment of self-awareness. I can. Because I am. Life is happening and I’m doing this thing. I’m mothering.
No responsible adult is going to come behind me and clean up my mistakes. Sometimes I forget I’m not the teenager waiting for life to start. Life is happening. My life is now.
My moment to mother is now.
I look at the day in front of me sometimes and it feels too weighty. Who thought I was able to handle this? I think I can’t do it. Somebody else with more patience, more energy, more creativity could do it. It’s too much for me. But I put one foot in front of the other, take one breath after another, and suddenly, I’m doing it. I’m mothering seven children. SEVEN.
Nobody is more surprised than me.
Too often in the so-called “Mommy wars,” we compare ourselves to others and say, “But I’m not doing it like her.”
Yes. But you are DOING IT. You are being The Mom to the children God created for your unique set of skills.
I guarantee it isn’t as pretty as you want it to be. But somehow, friends, we’re getting through it. We’re raising these little people. Every day is a minor miracle and a major victory. Sometimes we forget to celebrate when we manage to do a load of laundry because we know we just have to do it again tomorrow.
But stop and think: YOU DID IT TODAY.
There’s another side to this “you’re doing it” coin. The side that says: Don’t Miss It. Remember not to wish it away. Don’t count down every day, waiting for the moment you toss the last diaper, the beautiful day when everyone can dress themselves.
Don’t put your head down and plow through only to look up and realize you’ve lost the chance to connect with your kids. BE in the moment.
Too often, I spend my minutes worrying that someone else could use them better or waiting impatiently for another set of minutes to come. Some days, I need to remember to just take pride in the fact that I was a mother to my children today, no matter the crazy. Other days, I need an admonishment to Pay Attention and not let the opportunities for love and joy slip away, no matter the crazy.
And, as in all things, I do nothing but by the grace of God. He breathes life into my every step. He is the author of our days. He is the reason I have victory over laundry, tantrums, and that mysterious smell in the bathroom. He has done It that I might do all the things.
This is the day which the LORD has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
