Mom Purse

I've got it...I've got it real bad. 

Mom Purse.

'Mom Purse' is a chronic condition that once acquired lasts for approximately 15 years or until child can feed/entertain itself reliably or is too cool and/or embarrassed to talk to you. 

Which ever comes first.

Our moms had it, their moms had it.  Now we too will have it. 

Circa 2005 my purse contained:

1.  A wallet (real, actual money rarely, if ever, was housed in the wallet.  Mostly, it was stuffed with various bar ATM receipts.)

2.  Hairbrush and bottle of dry shampoo. (Preferably in miniature sizes...because they're just cuter.)  A girl can't be caught with greasy roots.

3.  Deodorant. (Also preferably in a cute miniature size.) 

If you haven't already gathered, I have a...thing...about personal hygiene.

4.  Make-up kit. (Including, but not limited to:  lip stick, lip gloss, pressed powder, oil blotting sheets, lip gloss, hair ties, bobby pins, lip gloss and...more lip gloss.)

5.  Gum and/or breath mints.

6.  Cell phone.

7.  Sunglasses.

Tuesday May 17th, 2011 my purse contains:

1.  A wallet.  (Stuffed with Babies r Us receipts.)

2.  Cell phone.  (With ringer on HIGH, in case babysitter needs to contact me in an emergency.)

My once cute, bedazzled case is cracked and gone, having fallen onto the driveway from my clenched jaws while I was trying to carry Henry and 6 bags of groceries in from the car.  Now it is extremely scratched and Henry drool has seeped into the mechanism, blurring part of the screen and making the caps lock button stick...SO I AM ALWAYS YELLING AT PEOPLE IN TEXT MESSAGES.

3. Spare pacifiers.

4.  Paci wipes. 

I am ashamed to admit that I have never actually used these and Henry has probably swallowed a few pieces of dirt and gravel from having the paci replaced after it fell on the ground in the Target parking lot.  Just having them makes me feel like I'm a good mom though. 

Which is important.

He is currently still alive.  So, no worries.

5.  Toys. 

I pull these out at key moments.  When I start to see Henry sprouting fangs or the tell-tale horns.  Sometimes his head spins around, but I usually know when the moment is right.  The toy will usually buy me a little time to get the hell outta where ever we are, and reach a secure location.

Safe from the Henricane.

6.  A diaper and mini wipe packet (never fear, motherhood hasn't stolen my love for all things miniature.)

I spit in the face of tradition and quit carrying a diaper bag for errands about a month ago.

Risky, I know...

I can be a real bad ass.

I am not saddened by this new phase, I'm actually strangely proud of it.

Like stretch marks, saggy boobs, fat thighs or sweat pant weeks...it's a motherhood right of passage.  I feel like if I was still in Girl Scouts I would have earned my "Mom Purse Badge."

I am just picturing the day in the future when I, like my mom, will be able to produce just the right thing, at just the right moment.

Henry and I will be running errands.  God forbid, I may have made him come to the mall with me; 

He will be frustrated, hungry, on the verge of collapse...no doubt whining.

At the crucial moment, like manna from the Heavens, I will unearth some sort of delicious, yet nutritious snack and diversionary activity.   

Balance will be restored to the universe and all will be well.  Henry will view me as some kind of fantastic magician. 

All thanks to my mom purse.

I can't wait.

On a semi-related note; I am almost entirely sure that the cure for cancer will be found in the lint-fur stuck to a half unwrapped piece of hard candy....

In the bottom of a mom purse.