where the magic happens

My husband offered to have my van washed and cleaned out as a present for my upcoming birthday. We are not talking about going through the Car Mart, but one of those fancy detailing places where they call you after your dropped your car off and tell you that they are 'going to have to charge extra for the the excessive amount of Goldfish stuck between your seats'. One of those car detailing places where they charge you over a hundred dollars.

So yes, in theory this could be a nice gift, but after spending every hour (damn you school and your late starts) for three hours yesterday, I decided that I think my van is already pretty awesome the way it is...

My beautifying station, complete with tweezers and gum wrappers,


because fresh breath can go a long way but shapely brows can go even farther. (And please tell me I'm not the only person who will tweeze their brows at stoplights).

The snack area:


Don't judge me... yes, I ate a full box of theater size Whoppers. Did you know that Whoppers are no longer being made? My hoarding them is therefore justified (right?).

Where my business transactions and receipts are kept:


Look closely, there are at least 4 receipts from McDonald's for a large Diet Coke, because you know, that's how I roll.

And of course, what everyone wants to see, the backseat, where the magic happens... and when I say 'magic' I mean where I spend years of my life buckling and unbuckling 5 little people. It's the second question people ask me when they see all of us strolling down the block, it's almost always following 'Oh my Gawd, are all of these kids yours?'.

What people are dying to know 'how do I fit them all in my van?'

So the answer is: very carefully (you can't even see the fifth car seat in this photo)


And getting every single one of these car seats out of the van for a real cleaning... thanks but no thanks, besides it's already (obviously) an organized traveling office and perfect personal space center.