Monday, May 13, 2013

The Mambag

Once upon a time, I used to have loads of handbags. As in, a heap of them. A veritable plethora. Big ones, small ones, gorgeously impractical ones. I didn't want to end up like one of those women that carted around a massive handbag full of rubbish (like my mother, if truth be told.) And why would I? Because all I needed to carry around in my bag was a notepad and pen, mobile phone and wallet - easily transferable between multiple bags.


Then I became a mother and my bag collection got whittled down to one - the bag that's big enough to fill with a bunch of random items but small enough to stuff into a stroller or sling around a neck while wrestling with a baby intent on escape. As to the contents of my handbag? Well, this happened:


Tipped out on to the coffee table, the contents of my handbag look like this:



There are many surprises, even for me - a lonely shoe. A sock. A rattle. Sophie, the hipster giraffe (it was a present, honest. I wasn't aware of how chic my child was, till someone informed me of the coolness of the toy then rammed into the chubby jaws of my drooling infant. Well, hello hipster me!). Wipes, nappies, coupons, a note from my Auntie Attracta with precise instructions about the type of yarn I have to buy for her. A lip gloss. Receipts.
And tissues.
Oh, my goodness, the tissues. There are tissues stuffed in my pockets, up my sleeve, down my bra - and not in the saucy way, but in the you-stay-down-there-till-I-need-to-spit-on-you-and-wipe-a-sticky-face way. When I undress at night, there's a snowfall of balled-up paper handkerchiefs. And the startling thing is, my mother is the exact same. Just like Hänsel and Gretel left a trail of breadcrumbs, she leaves a trail of ... tissues.

Which is why yesterday's Mothers' Day realisation was much less a realisation and more of a mental smack in the head, affixing a truism to my forehead that I know, but would rather forget: the older we get, the more inclined we are to become like our mothers. Because I now no longer have a handbag, I have - shudder! - a mambag.

7 comments:

The Foggy Knitter said...

Is it any comfort that I have no children and my bag is that chaotic (though minus the baby related items and the shoe). I have no excuse whatsoever.

And I always need some knitting on me, just in case.

elns said...

You must be very organized. The amount of items that have made your bag contents grow, all make logical sense. I am afraid, I indeed suffer from your mother's chockful of "what" and "everything" handbag syndrome. It's too the point that the little siblings on my son's soccer team call it the "magic bag" or Mary Poppins bag, since it has bandaids, and neosporin and granola bars. (hangs head in shame.) thanks for sharing.

Barbara said...

I know what you mean.. I have one shoulder bag I bought when my eldest was a baby and am using it almost every day for the past five years. Mine needs to be emptied often to get rid of all the raisins hiding in corners, empty raisin boxes and indeed all the tissues...

Sue said...

Ha ha I remember the days when I left the house with just a bag big enough for my purse a bit of lippy and key(Front door only). That was of course before children, Now I have a rucksack stuffed with you guessed tissues!!!!! What's worse is my children are all flown the nest so how come my bag's still huge LOL!

Eithne said...

Ha ha, I have a mambag too, arggghhhhhh! It must be the genes, but I am very prone to the tissue trail also.......xxxx

Jay said...

Great post, I always used to carry a banana in my handbag when the kids were toddlers & babies - emergency snack in a
bio-degradable wrapper!

Sara said...

I have just come across your blog and this post made me laugh out loud, so thanks for posting. As I don't have any children my handbag is not half as interesting as yours!

Your blankets are beautiful too.