Knowing where to "draw the line" (more parking fun)

My rant of the day: Parking spaces are too freakin' small.  Or maybe cars are just getting too damn big, but one way or the other, something's gotta give.  I think the "stork parking" is a fabulous idea for us mamas-to be, but unfortunately it's not enough anymore to have a parking space to call our own.  They need to also be 2-3 feet wider to better accommodate those of us who are no longer able to see our feet.  (I don't ask for much, really).  But I have officially reached the point in my pregnancy where turning sideways to shimmy into a tight space no longer works for, well, shimmying.  I have discovered this on several occasions when- and I'm still not sure how this happens- I "forget" that my belly sticks out.  (Yet, I just can't seem to "forget" that my ass is widening...)  Take for example, a sliding glass door that is open only so far.  Having had wonderfully flat abs for most of my life (one of the few things I actually liked about my body), I still instinctively turn sideways in an effort to squeeze through tight spaces, only to end up bumping my belly or find myself wedged for a second or two.

Today, as I was leaving my favorite coffee shop, I was rather irked to find someone had parked their gi-normous suburban right on top of my driver side door.  (Rant within a rant: If people insist on driving these mammoths-on-wheels, they ought to at least know how to park one).  So there I stand- cup of decaf in hand, laptop under arm and now a personal vendetta to top it all off.  I have read stories of women who ended up having to climb through their back doors, or through their passenger door and over the console, and I'll admit that I assumed those women were probably 9 months pregnant, carrying twins, or already on the fluffy side. But I stand corrected: I am barely 7 months pregnant, baking only ONE bun, and don't consider myself fluffy (although when this is all said and done, I might end up revisiting the last part of that statement).  I saw no easy way to get into my car.  Now, given that my car was parked front and center- more than likely, I was providing comic relief to customers who were sitting in the cafe enjoying their lattes as they watched me walk from my passenger side door, to the driver side, then back to the passenger side....and yet again to the driver side...opening my door and getting half of my butt in, closing the door to open the back door and dump my belongings, switch coffee from hand to hand,  reopen driver side door, poke my head in and twist my body, hop on my left leg as I thrust my right leg in...(and realizing that "sucking in" my belly does nothing to flatten it anymore and actually only serves to make me lightheaded).

For a brief hormonal moment, I saw myself hurling my steaming cup of coffee all over the windshield of this vehicle that had clearly been parked by someone who was legally blind.  If that was the case however, then I reasoned they probably wouldn't see the brown liquid all over the front of their car and thus my wrath would be wasted.  *sigh*  (Notice how it never occurred to me not to seek revenge because that's technically the "right" thing to do.   I will say it again- pregnancy hormones cannot be reasoned with).  So after my own personal version of the  hokey pokey to get myself into the driver's seat, I sat there and did something I know will come back to haunt me one day: I vowed that I would never be seen driving one of those larger than life, parking space-hogging, monster suburbans.  Ever.  I've already sworn off mini-vans , so I'm not sure what options this leaves me if our family ever grows beyond 2 kids (which we're hoping it will).  Maybe an ugly gray passenger van?  Now wouldn't THAT be cute.