2000 BC (Before Children) I used a strappy purse. You know the kind—the wallet on a rope. Everything I needed fit in that tidy number: cash, credit cards, pictures of friends and family, lipgloss. Never would I arrive somewhere and think, Dang, how could I have left the wetwipes? Or, please tell me there’s a Lightning McQueen in here somewhere. I was childless and streamlined, coming and going without much forethought. And then I had babies.
I was never much for diaper bags but being the sharp new mom I was, I soon realized my strappy purse was no longer going to work. So I upgraded to a Mother Purse that was big enough to carry diapers and sippy cups but not big enough to double as a beach bag.
Enter Purse Party. Finally I had the time and inclination to hand-select a bag that would carry all the stuff I was starting to accumulate as a frazzled and disorganized mom. This is the first purse I picked:
And then my mother gave me this one (recognizing that I was a little jealous of my beloved sister-in-law Erin’s diaper bag of the same style):
Adorable, right? Fully of personality and color. I love them both, but here's the problem. I use them to pack the most ridulous things around. That one above? It's been my bag of choice this entire Christmas season. And I only realized it's been loaded with too much stuff when I had to dump it out to find my cell phone. So last night I decided it was time to clean it out and here’s what I found (I call it Purse Vomit):
Things of note include: three Sonic straws (one without the sanitary paper covering), one loose WalMart receipt, a Radiator Springs Lightning McQueen (note: not Zack’s favorite), a clean diaper that—due to its long, rumpled journey—looks used, and one homemade invitation to a church Christmas party. How could I go from a wallet on a rope to a diapurse—that’s what I call this sad little hybrid between a purse and diaper bag. Catchy, right?
I’m just saying that I haven’t transitioned into my matured state of motherhood very gracefully. There are streamlined mothers out there, wearing fashionable clothes and carrying what they need (read: no Sonic straws or matchbox cars) in a tight little purse that matches their shoes. Me? I’m carrying a junk drawer in a bag (albeit a very cute one).
I’m going to have to work on that one in 2008…