My whole life, I refused to carry a purse. There were various reasons for this. The first, and most important, was that it was bulky. Why would I want to carry something extra with me everywhere I go? The second reason was that I didn’t like the idea of branding myself with someone else’s initials. Third, I didn’t want to get mugged because of somebody else’s initials. So instead, I simply carried a credit card and my license in my front pocket. Bam. Done. Easy, peasy.
Then came baby.
A whole new world of bulky, initial-laden glory. Did you know that Coach has a “diaper bag”?!? But now that we’re moms, now that we are officially grown-ups, we have graduated from just initials to full names. Petunia Picklebottom. Ju-Ju-Be, Not Rational, etc. Uhm, let’s be honest, a diaper bag is just an excuse for most people to purchase a new purse, right? And don’t even get me started on the Daddy Diaper Bags. (Not that I don’t think Daddy should CARRY the diaper bag–he absolutely should! But a whole separate bag? It’s hard enough to pack one.)
Could I get away with not having a diaper bag? It didn’t seem likely. Did I want one? Absolutely not.
I planned on using an old college backpack. But then I was gifted a fancy baby purse from a family member. I was about to be a mom. Maybe it was time to be the woman who had a nice purse. Maybe this was part of growing up.
As I was preparing for baby to arrive, I kept reading that I needed to pack my shiny new diaper bag. Diapers, wipes, extra onesie, pacifier, pacifier clip, pacifier cover, zip-lock bags, bottles, wallet, cell phone, keys, hand sanitizer, nursing cover, breast pads, changing pad, blanket, sunscreen, hat, snacks, books, water for mom, sunglasses, pen and planner, etc. etc. etc.
Yikes. For a girl used to carrying two cards around, this seemed like a lot. A heckuva lot.
Somehow, all of this would fit, Mary Poppins’ style, and I would look uber cool carrying it, flawlessly thrown over my shoulder with my over=sized t-shirt, skinny jeans, and massive sunglasses while I pushed my newborn to the nearest coffee shop to meet my girlfriend where we would share horror stories over skinny lattes while our newborns slept like angels.
I dutifully checked my items off the list. And I lugged all of this around for months. In a giant bag that I despised carrying. It felt massive: too many pockets, too many places to lose my keys. My over-sized t-shirt kept giving the world a glimpse of my now overly “nursing-padded” bra. My skinny jeans wouldn’t even go up one leg. I never got around to purchasing massive sunglasses, not that I would have been able to keep track of them if I had. And pushing a stroller more than a block felt like I was competing on “Ninja Warrior.” That diaper bag, thrown so flawlessly over my shoulder, was so heavy. So incredibly heavy.
Was this a symbol of my newly budding motherhood? Awkward? Confusing? Constantly digging for money and keys?
But in truth, the diaper bag is the least of my baggage.
Moms carry a lot of things. Oftentimes all at once. There are the physical things, like the diaper bag, the folded stroller that is impossible to get out of the car, the cheerios your child hands you off the floor with a smile, the actual food and snacks, and of course the snugly little baby… These are the things that give you Michelle Obama arms. Seriously. My arms and shoulders have never been more toned.
But then there are the mental things. The worry, the anxiety, the guilt, the fear, the over-joyed heart, the goosebumps, the memories, the roller coaster of emotions that come with rearing a child.
Lately I have taken to cleaning out the diaper bag. Half the time I am running around with some wipes and a diaper stuffed in my back pocket. Because of this, my poor child has become a hoarder of other children’s, (with more prepared moms) snacks. There might not always be a changing pad readily available when duty calls. We don’t really do hand sanitizer. It may be uncouth, but it works for me. Moms carry enough as it is.
