I Sold My Triple Stroller Today

first walk

Our first walk

I sold my triple stroller today. I’m not gonna lie: I cried a little bit.

I hated that thing. I hated how much it cost. If I had bought it new, it would have cost more than our old pickup truck did! The market for triple strollers is extremely limited. At the time, there were only three triple strollers on the market. I was stuck buying a four-wheeled vehicle without a motor that retailed for more than one of our four-wheeled vehicles with a motor.

I hated that thing. I hated how much it weighed. It was 37 pounds *without* children in it. All I can think about when I look at it is how it broke my back to get it in and out of the van, and how it weighed more than I did with all my kids in it, and how it felt to push it uphill. I think of the friends who had to help me lift it or push it.

And now it’s gone… And so are my babies. They are three years old now.

I remember buying that stroller from another twin mom when I was pregnant with the twins. (Before the bedrest, obviously!) Her twins were three at the time. I was already huge and lugging a very unhappy two-year-old with me. I was scared – not scared of this rich lady I found on Craigslist, though. I was scared of the twins in my belly. I was scared to see if that triple stroller would fit in my VW. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to lift it. I was scared I wouldn’t remember how to unfold it. I was scared to pay the amount I would have to pay (which, at half the retail price, was still a staggering amount).  I was scared that my hyper-sensitive toddler would flip out with the commotion of her twins that day (he did) – and his twins in the future (he would).

Most of all, I was scared that I would never survive until my twins were three. I would never make it as far as she had.

I almost didn’t.

And then I did. I survived. My house isn’t as nice trendy clean as hers. I probably suck at twin-momming way more than she did. But I’m here. I did it.

And now I’m selling the triple stroller to another mom.

triple strollerI loved that stroller. It was my only freedom. It was my only way to leave my house to get fresh air, even for something as simple as a walk down the street. I was not physically able to maneuver three children under three with my own body.

I loved that stroller. without it, my only options would have been drive-thru fast food and drive-thru pharmacies. It was my only freedom.

My babies are gone. In their place, I now have strong, hearty three-year-old twins and a strong, hearty (and still hyper-sensitive) six-year-old son. They are beautiful and boogery and filthy. They are angelic and horrid. They smell like dirt. They smell like Burt’s Bees soap. They smell like snot. They smell like coconut oil. They smell like engine grease and sawdust like their father. They smell like rosewater and saffron ice cream.

cleaning triple stroller

The triple stroller was my albatross and my only freedom. Now my kids are cleaning it for me instead of being dead weight!

They don’t have wheels like that triple stroller. They don’t have an engine like the old truck that cost less than that fancy stroller. But, somehow, they have become completely self-propelled. They are fast and wild. They are slow and meandering. They sometimes hold my hand, but I never carry them. If they have a tantrum in public, I can’t carry them out: I have to wait them out while the whole world hears. If they get hurt and cry, I can’t heave them onto my hips: I have to sit on the floor/gravel/pavement/dirt and let them climb into my lap for comfort. They each now weigh more than that triple stroller ever did: 45 pounds, 40 pounds, and 38 pounds.

It’s another mom’s turn to have a turn with that monstrosity. I wonder if she is scared. Probably not, because she is having her sixth child. She will be fine.

So why did I cry? Of course it wasn’t really for the stroller. It wasn’t really even for the memories of my tiny babies in the seats. It really wasn’t even for my non-babies who are now so self-propelled.

It was for the future babies that I can’t have. As I drove away and left that stroller behind, I knew I would never have another baby to put in it.

And if by some miracle, I did have another baby, it would only be one baby… so obviously I would only need a single regular stroller anyway.

I really hated that triple stroller.




This isn’t an affiliate link or anything, but since so many people have asked me, you can buy this Valco Baby stroller here. It is a twin stroller with an additional third seat called a “Joey” attached. And, since this isn’t an affiliate link, I’m allowed to say, buy that thing on Craigslist!


Say It Ain’t So! When a Minivan Happens to a Volkswagen Girl…

I could not decide on a name for this blog post. So, since this topic is so incredibly painful for poor little me (First World Problems!), I’m not going to write an actual post about it. While I drown in my tears, I will just give you a bunch of alternate versions of the title of this non-blog-post post. Here are the Top 5 Alternate Titles:

1)     “How a Lifelong VW Girl Ended up in a Minivan”

On the day I was born, I came home from the hospital in a 1977 VW Rabbit. I mean, I would have, except that my mom was in labor long enough to get the Rabbit towed. Therefore, I actually came home in my Granddad’s car. (The first thing my new dad had to do was get that Rabbit out of the impound lot.) With the exception of that day, I have been in a VW for my entire life.

1977 VW Rabbit 1981 me asleep in VW

Throughout my childhood, my VW-loving parents drove me around in:
-a blue 1977 VW Rabbit,
-a black 1984 VW Rabbit (which my dad only sold this year), and
-a maroon 1994 VW Jetta (which my brother crashed).

As an adult, I have purchased:
-a blue 1987 VW Jetta (my first car, which my brother also crashed)
-a silver 2001 VW Golf,
-a red 2002 VW GTI (which my brother now owns and better not crash),
-a blue 2002 VW TDI (which we still own and Mr. Okayest drives every day. This diesel has 265,000 miles on it), and
-my silver 2003 VW Passat W8 (which kind of fit all 3 kids in the back, but not really, and also held our 100 pound dog in the back)

I never thought I would not own a VW.

2)     “From VW to… Beige.Chrysler.Minivan (to be read in the voice of the singer from the band Cake: A.White.Chrysler.LeBaron)”

Is there anything more bland than those three words put together: “Beige.Chrysler.Minivan”? I feel like I need to sprinkle some Sriracha sauce on those words to spice them up.

We, of course, started out by looking at the VW minivan, the Routan. Don’t even get me started on that. VW stuck a dagger in my heart. The Routan is actually just rebadged Chrysler Town & Country minivan with a more expensive price tag. WTHeck, VW?! That is not acting like “The People’s Car”, now is it?! How could you do that to a lifelong VW girl?

However, since the Routan debuted in 2008, it is not old enough to be affordable for the Okayest Family, so my whole rant is meaningless anyway. We don’t do car payments. Mr. Okayest is a former mechanic, and, thus, we rotate through old vehicles. He can keep them running. We have owned a dozen cars since we were married, many of which we flipped like real estate. Not a single one of them has ever been to a shop. (This hobby/skill keeps Mr. Okayest very busy. I used to call myself a “Garage Widow”.) Therefore, when we look at vehicles to buy, we usually look at vehicles that are about a decade old. This limits the choices somewhat.

3)     “ ‘I Will Never Drive a Minivan’ Said Everyone, Ever.”

I am so not reinventing the wheel here. Like most minivan owners, we tried everything to avoid this thing. We smashed all 3 in the back of the VW Passat until we could smash no more. We did spreadsheet after spreadsheet to try to fudge the numbers and make an SUV come out on top. Mr. Okayest is the best practical thinker you have ever seen, and made jaw-dropping “Decision Matrixes” (matrices?) that gave every pro and con a numerical value. It was so easy to make fun of him and his Excel skillz, but, dang, I was in awe. We simply could not argue with the numbers. No matter how we skewed the values, we could not make the SUVs or full-size vans come out as the winner.

How The Okayest  Family Buys a Car

How The Okayest Family Buys a Car (Make fun all you want. And, um, this is only a snippet of ONE of the Decision Matrices.)

I will make it up to myself by putting this sticker on the back:


4)     “It’s Not the Number of Kids You Have… It’s the Number of Carseats You Have”

Anyone who makes fun of Americans for driving increasingly-larger vehicles does not have three babies in three carseats. (And I’m talking to myself here. I am the girl who once owned a Mini and a VW Golf at the same time.) We got the narrowest carseats we could find (which also happened to be the cheapest, woot woot!), and we just could not make them fit properly in the back of the VW Passat. There are only 2 LATCH anchors, so car manufacturers think it’s only necessary to save the lives of 2 of our 3 children.

all 3 asleep in vw

Our three carseats across the back row didn’t quite fit properly. They were a little wonky and crooked, because they had to overlap a little bit. Plus, when we shut the doors, the seats would jostle around. I kept picturing being in a t-bone crash with the twins’ seats smashed against the doors, and I felt like I should apologize to everyone who ever owned an SUV “for safety” that I had previously teased.

We have children closer together in age than most parents. I think that most parents who have three children have an oldest child who can buckle his own carseat buckle- or is old enough to not need a carseat. That is the natural child-spacing order. We, however, have three very small and closely-spaced children who must be buckled in by my hands. Why does this matter? BECAUSE I HAVE TO CLIMB IN THE WAY WAY BACK TO BUCKLE WHICHEVER KID ENDS UP BACK THERE. Therefore, I petitioned for a full-size van (which was sadly the major loser of the Decision Matrix) or a minivan with stow-n-go seats. I reasoned that if I could fold one seat into the floor, then I have far more room with which to maneuver. That plan was foiled when my 2-year-old niece moved in with us. We now have FOUR carseats in there and no stowing-and-going happening. (But that’s ok!)

all 4 in minivan

5)     “‘Anything But Beige,’ I Said”

Guess what? We looked at six minivans that weekend, and the last one happened to be beige. I knew as soon as I saw it. I said to him in a defeated voice, “This is the one, isn’t it?”

I’m never going to be able to find it in a parking lot. As a girl who is used to driving around in rare cars (Passat W8), race cars (my husband’s 626 hp racer), or handmade cars (an old Mitsubishi Galant sedan with race components), I now feel like I am wearing an invisibility cloak. Good thing I never leave the house, huh?


Postscript: Okay, okay, it’s been kinda awesome to fit all four kids in one vehicle. We have freedom to leave the house all together now. And, yes, its “utility can’t be beat”, as Mr. Okayest has said. And, okay, okay, it’s pretty cool to put regular gas in something for once, instead of premium. And, yeah, those automatic doors are really something when I have my hands full of twins. But, seriously, beige?!!