One Day I'll Carry a Purse Again

There are certain things that have no place in our home, so they ride around in the back storage area of my vehicle: a bag of Goodwill clothes that never made it to the store, 12 reusable grocery bags, and three purses.  

Cody was loading the double stroller into the storage area of my vehicle not long ago and soon realized it wouldn’t fit because of the baggage - literally - that was taking up space in my life. 
He was quick to ask, “Why haven’t you delivered that bag of Goodwill clothes we sorted through back in January?” 
Because I always forget they’re there. 
Then, “Do you really need a dozen reusable grocery bags?” 
No, but six don't have an insulated liner in them and six don't have a sturdy bottom...so I don't know which ones to toss. 
Finally, “These three purses have been in here for a year – do you really need them?” 
My immediate and firm answer was YES.

I’ve not carried a purse since July 1, 2016 – the day I became a mother. I packed an overnight bag and a diaper bag to go to the hospital, and I never picked up a purse again. Not because I didn’t want one, but frankly I don’t have enough hands. Instead, I've tucked everything I need for myself inside a small wallet.

In My Purse, BC (before children) was an array of things, part CVS store, part time capsule. Before children, you could look in my purse and find: a can of Friz-Ease hairspray, two lip glosses, four lipsticks, four credit cards, 45 bobby pins, an array of gum and mints, a risky can of mace, a mirror, expired coupons, band-aids for bad shoes, shabby Kleenexes, most with a mint inside, a Keith Whitley CD, a Robert Earl Keen CD, outdated business cards from two jobs ago, Advil and ticket stubs from shows I went to in 2014. 

But there is no room for those things in a diaper bag. 
Diaper bags are much more selfless and extend beyond one’s self.

When I carried a purse, I spent time in an office, talked a lot to my girlfriends, and cared much about my appearance. Today, I spend a lot of time in a pasture, talk a lot to bred heifers, and do care about my appearance, only because I’m certain a someone could stop by at any given moment and ask about our Certified Angus Beef barn. 

But one day I’ll carry a purse again. 

Because one day there will be no more diaper bag. There will be no more need for extra bibs tucked in every compartment. There will be no more gummy spoons or Ziplock bags of dry cereal that busted open during the trip. There will be no more thermoses of warm water, waiting for the next bottle. 

There will be no more stickers from the doctor or dum-dums from the bank. No more hair bows to dress up an outfit last-minute, dinosaurs to occupy a baby or toys to keep someone quiet in the waiting room. 

There will be no more crushed goldfish crackers, ground graham crackers or animal crackers without legs. No more dried blueberries, extra pants in case of accidents or one stray shoe. 

There will be no more books with pages stuck together because of fruit snacks left in between, no more earrings with no match, no more spare socks so small that even the smallest in the family outgrew them six months ago. 

There will be no more diapers by the dozen, no more wipes and no more Desitin. No more rattles. No more Tide pens. No more Vaseline. No more pacifiers. Right now, I have a hard time imaging a world without pacifiers. 

There will be no more packing for anyone else but myself in order to leave the house for two hours. I'll no longer need much, at all. 

I guess one day I’ll carry a purse again and it will be a big, vast space waiting to be filled of pieces of my life. With a house key, an array of coupons I'll never use, expensive lipstick that need not be kiss-proof and really great hairspray. Perhaps at that age, I’ll start packing the vast space with my insurance card, eye glasses and tums. And probably a nose aspirator because I have a really hard time letting go.

Between you and I, 

I absolutely dread the fact that 

one day I’ll carry a purse again.