I have never been a fan of “mom” purses, if for no other reason than the fact that they seem to become the catch-all for the rest of the family’s possessions. I have been to sledding hills where I watched mothers pull entire winter wardrobes out of their gigantic purses while their children—looking like they had just stepped out of a Land’s End catalog—stood there with no bags at all, free to enjoy an unencumbered day of fun in the snow. In fact, some of those mom bags were so commodious that it wouldn’t have surprised me at all to see them pull out hot chocolate, marshmallows, and a blazing fire while they were at it.
I, however, am not one of those moms; I don’t even like to carry other people’s sunglasses, let alone all of their worldly possessions. Unfortunately, however, if you’re a mom, and you have a bag, eventually your kids are going to ask you to put something in it. It is inevitable. Which is why a few years back I decided that the only way to get out of the Mom Bag business was to stop carrying a bag entirely. Which I did, and from that moment on I have carried everything I needed in my pockets—just like a guy.
This, of course, meant that everyone else had to start carrying the stuff they needed in their own pockets: no more would me and my bag be the repository for sunglasses, keys, books, gloves, and handheld entertainment devices. From now on (I said) we would all be responsible for our own stuff. That was the theory, at least.
In actuality, what this meant was that everyone was now irresponsible for their own stuff, because as soon as I stopped carrying it for them, things began to get lost. I partly blame the fashion industry for this: exactly when did they start making pants without pockets, or at least without pockets big enough to hold anything other than a fifty cent piece? I mean, some of these pockets aren’t even big enough to hold a credit card, and I don’t know anyone who travels that light. But still, just because you are unlucky enough to be wearing pocket-less pants, that doesn’t mean you have to lose all of your possessions. You could put them in a coat pocket. Or, if your coat is also pocketless (I’ve seen that, too), you could carry your things in your own small bag. Perhaps a grocery bag. Or even a baggie. Or, if you are my children, you could walk around with all of your important possessions in your hands, like someone who has just escaped from a house fire and is still a little confused from inhaling all of that smoke. And, like that confused fire refugee, you could set those possessions down somewhere one at a time, and then walk away, never to see them again.
Not that it is really that much better when they do carry a bag—that just means that they get to lose all of their stuff in one place, as opposed to several. But still, the bag (or more likely, backpack) at least allows me experience brief moments of serenity. “Where’s your homework?” I’ll ask. “Backpack.” Good. “ Cellphone?” “Backpack.” Nice. “House keys?” “Backpack.” Excellent. And then I make the mistake of asking “And where is your backpack?’ and get “I dunno,” in return, and my serenity all falls away.
There’s got to be a compromise between being the person who carries everyone’s stuff in a monstrous bag, and being the person who has to help look for an endless stream of lost objects. Unfortunately, I think I already know what that compromise is: bigger pockets. But just for me, alas.
Just for me.