I can usually tell the general ages of a woman’s children by the size of her purse. I have a Mom Bag. The other day I reached into my bag for a pen. First I pulled out a candy cane, then a marker-shaped spray bottle of hand sanitizer. I found two pairs of Lulu’s socks, a hand full of Crappy Meal Toys (don’t judge), and a zip lock of dry cereal. Nestled in the layer of glitter and cracker crumbs at the bottom of the bag I found two pens… only one worked.
Calling my bag a “purse” is a stretch of the imagination. One time a friend watched in amazement as I pulled an entire change of clothes for Lulu out of my bag. She called it a “bolsa mágica” – a magic bag! I agree. A Mom Bag can be magical. There is a scene from the movie “One Fine Day”where stressed single mom Michelle Pfeiffer digs in her Mom Bag to find enough junk to whip together two superhero costumes for her daughter and the neighbor boy. I love the look of horror mingled with admiration on the face of neighbor dad George Clooney as he watches her Mad Scientist creativity. There is no emergency that a Mom Bag can not handle!
Some day when my children are grown I will downsize to a cute little purse, or maybe a handbag. Something just big enough to carry my wallet and a lipstick.