The Hunchback of Notre-Mommy

There are days I pick up my purse and go "whhumpf" from the effort.

Like most Moms, my purse is full of my stuff...and a sparkly barrette or two; an action figure (I just pulled out a Power Ranger); pens (more than some people own, but I gotta have them); cell phone; mints....

Toys for the kids, like little notepads (they start out being mine, to help my ailing memory, but wind up in the grubby little hands of Audrey); tiny bubbles (the last ones I swiped from a wedding and the container was shaped like a wee wedding cake); bubble gum (for emergencies); occasionally a book, GameBoy Advance ("hold this for me, Mom, for a sec"); Bandaids (first aid AND an entertainment tool)...

Little nail clippers; an eyeglass repair kit; headband (why suffer through a bad hairday?); Tylenol (do I really need to explain that one?); Tums (ditto); pictures (gotta have pictures of the small fry, in the unlikely event that they aren't with me for me to point to, and I need proof); my own Swiss Army knife (you never know when you'll be pushed to the point of hari-kari); lippy (I may have a weird stain on my shirt and an M&M melted on my backside, but my lips look great); and Kleenex (imagine how dorky I felt a couple of weeks ago, when reaching for my Kleenex, to wipe Audrey's nose, and not realizing that the smooth plastic package I felt wasn't, as I whipped out a maxi pad the size of Kansas and let the librarian in on the fact that yes, it was that time); and glasses cleaners (for my 11 yr old, who thinks that if there is one tiny clean spot left on his lenses, that that is enough to function).  Basically, it's my purse equivalent of a clown car.

Actually, it's one of those purse/backpack combos, and although it's full, it's not huge.  Heavy enough to knock someone out, maybe, but cute in a functional, wipeable way.  It just screams "MOM" and while that makes me cringe,  I give myself points that at least it's not a real backpack. (Which I have considered on occasion.)

I had to replace the little bag in which my lippy resides, and was pondering oh, I don't know, being reasonable and only carrying the one I'm wearing that day as opposed to carrying all my current favorites.  Cut down on the weight and clutter a bit.  Ha.  What, and give up my girly security blanket? 

No, I decided that I'm gonna streamline and remove all the crap that isn't mine. 

(Which will last about 12 hours--or until I next head out the door with Audrey to do whatever and grab things for her just in case.)

It's not even like I really mind carrying all that stuff, I mean, it does come with the territory and I hate to be unprepared.  It's that I'm feeling some purse-restlessness...getting a little sick of this one, and planning on looking for another.  The kids are getting bigger, maybe I could ditch this backpack concept.

This will go against the women's code of purse ethics, but I usually only own one at a time.  No backup.  No cute "oh, but this one matches this outfit" options lining my closets. 

When did that happen??

Oh, yeah, about the time I started carrying a diaper bag and realized I didn't want to be lugging around two bags, and consolidated mine with theirs.  Because I thought it would be easier...more efficient....and it wound up being a weight bearing exercise just to carry it around.  Ack!  My poor posture!

I'm done with the diaper bags. 

It's time to move on.

Right after I figure out how to get that My Little Pony's hair out of the zipper.