When The Girl was a baby, I had the super-deluxe, ultimately chic and extraordinarily heavy diaper bag. She and I could have sustained a two-day adventure at a moment’s notice. Thinking about it now, I realize that our chic bag (Chanel-inspired) is still hanging in the back of my closet. Yes, it is still packed.
As an active toddler-babe, The Girl required changes – yes plural – changes of clothes. Our Vera was sunny yellow with lots of pockets and we had not just adorable outfits, but snacks, games, cute little sunglasses, towels, bandaids with super girl-heroes, books and again we could have taken flight at the drop of the ruffled little cap – or cool tiny baseball cap with requisite sunglasses.
The search for the perfect tiny backpack for Kindergarten was legend. It was also the beginning of a yearly search for “the” backpack. Yes, every single solitary one of them is stashed somewhere in the house and yes, they still contain papers and supplies. Don’t judge me, it’s a system. One year I tried to cheap out and buy a discount backpack. We have two from that year.
The Girl is not a “purse girl.” She is happiest with the tiniest of designer envelopes holding a few bucks and her license and hanging from her car keys. Handbags are tolerated only when required for an excursion or when serving as adjunct to an outfit.
This being said, however, she is most definitely a “bag girl.” Her life and activities are accompanied by bags. The afore-mentioned bookbag, which must weigh 50 pounds, is her mainstay. I do not look into this bag unless by request to add or subtract a book or folder or make sure there is lunch money in that little pocket at the top. When she began driving, the book bag took it’s place in the back seat. I should probably insist that the leviathan wear a seatbelt.
Last weekend, I began the annual spring rite of purging the other bags. The soccer bag, stiff with dirt and sewn-on badges was emptied and shaken over the lawn. Clumps of dirt from dozens of fields fell from the corners. Head bands, knee braces, cold packs, about a dozen socks (none matched) outdoor cleats, indoor shoes, extra t-shirts, gum wrappers and yes – a stale water bottle – all were pulled from the depths. “Let’s get you a new bag,” I vounteered. That was a mistake. Athletes get very weird about their stuff. A new bag could change the course of soccer history, and not for the better.
Then the “cheer bag.” Making it’s appearance only during basketball season each winter, the cheer bag is roughly the size of a Volkswagen. It has pockets on each end. It comes with it’s own shoes, socks, brushes, auxillery bags, pom poms, glitter lotion, make up, spare change, and it smells so much better than the soccer bag. Seriously. Added bonus, the cheer bag seemed to be full of loose change.
Last summer, the beach bag made it’s inaugural appearance. Yes, it is still packed from then (I checked for water bottles and consumables) and awaits spring break.
The snowboard “boot bag” has a place of honor in the room of The Girl. Not used as heavily as the others, but serving as the steward of the goggles, helmet, boots, gloves, etc. that contribute to the right look and attitude of a ski bunny, the boot bag is big time. Also, it weighs a ton but looks pretty snappy hanging from her shoulder.
The Girl is not a purse girl. The stuff of her life can’t be contained in a little shoulder bag. May it always be so, my darling. Live large.