Memories hidden in a minivan

by on Jul 01, 2011

Ok, by now just about everyone knows that I have OCD. I try to clean everything, everywhere, every day. There is one area that does manage to escape my watchful eye though and that’s inside my minivan.  I’m always driving my kids somewhere, whether it’s to school, baseball practice, baseball games, dance lessons, play dates, doctor appointments, you name it. And, if you have children you know that you’re always running late so it’s a mad rush to herd the family into the car, get to where you’re supposed to be and get everyone out of the car without forgetting backpacks, lunch boxes, baseball gear, ballet shoes, your purse or one of the kids.

So every month I take a trip to the local car wash and after getting the outside of the minivan squeaky clean I park at the free vacuum station and begin the task of cleaning the interior. It’s during this time, as the vacuum begins its work at ear splitting decibels that I take a trip down memory lane. Here’s the loot from the most recent cleaning:

  • The melted jelly bean on the carpet in front of Jack’s seat – a leftover from our “can you guess the flavor?” game.
  • The DSI stylus pen behind Gracie’s booster seat – the one she blamed Griffin for eating.
  • The origami paper fortune teller Gracie made at artist camp — the one that said she would be going to Disneyworld, would be rich, and would own a pink Mustang.
  • One dirty sock – leftover from an almost vomit-inducing birthday party at BounceU.
  • One baby tooth that was lost while eating a Happy Meal. Jack was convinced he had swallowed it and I had to write a note to the Tooth Fairy in order to calm my almost hysterical son.
  • Two dead cicadas – a memory from our 13-year cicada summer and a drive from Nashville on the interstate with my kids and my mother screaming at me to pull over and remove the flying pests. We drove on I-24 with the windows open in the hope that the ugly bugs would be jettisoned out. By the time we got to our destination the wind had caused us all to look as if we had stuck our fingers in electrical sockets. Talk about a bad hair day!
  • A five dollar bill – no doubt something that had fallen out of my husband’s pocket while he was driving. The rule in our house is that all money found becomes the property of the one doing the cleaning. I made the rule. I also do all the cleaning.

So my van is clean and all memories have either been vacuumed up or stashed away for safe-keeping. I wonder what treasures I’ll find next month.

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