While surfing the 'Net today (in between feeding and changing my now eight-month-old twins), I came across one of those girly teen sites (you know, the ones with all the hair and makeup tips…think Seventeen Magazine online type of thing). Out of curiosity, I hung around and checked out some of the articles. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that these "girly-girls" are interested in more than just hair and make-up…there were articles about Women in Power, the usage of breasts in today's society (as advertising tools, as door openers), etc. Many well-written and well thought-out essays. But the one that really caught my eye had to do with purses. The history and symbolism of the purse as viewed by the writer. I don't know how old the writer is, but it gave me something to think about.
As a young girl, I carried my first purse to Easter services at my grandmother's church. It was very small, white shiny plastic with a silk flower on the flap. Inside were a white handkerchief, my white gloves (I was afraid I'd get them dirty) and some coins for the offering plate. As I grew, so did the size of my purses and their contents as well. In junior high, my mother bought me a hand-painted, heavy leather saddlebag type of purse with a braided strap. I loved that purse. It's only drawback was that it had no zippered inner pockets or dividers to keep my tampons from being spilled out along with my forbidden make-up if I happened to drop my purse. One of it's more functional features was that in swinging it through the air by the strap and aiming for an unsuspecting victim's head, it made a damn fine weapon. This I discovered when the three neighborhood bullies cornered me on the way home from school. But I digress…
In analyzing the changing contents of my purse over the years, my own history can be traced. The small white plastic purse is now a medium-sized black leather. The white hanky has been replaced by a myriad of crumpled tissues. The change for the offering plate has now become my older children's lunch money and twenty folded twenty-dollar bills for buying formula and diapers for the week (well, maybe not the entire $200, there may still be some lunch money left over). I can immediately see how becoming a parent changed the contents of my purse. But what I wondered was if/how becoming a mom of twins significantly changed them. Let's empty my purse and find out…
Hmmmm, this would come up right about the time I need to clean it out, wouldn't it?? Good a time as any I guess. Here goes...
Dump. Shake.
Two credit card bills: Paid (file)
Small tube of Neutrogena Hand Cream: Absolutely the best for taking care of hands reddened and raw from way too many washings. (keep)
A Bic lighter: In case my Zippo runs out of fluid. (keep)
An ad for a local mall jewelry store offering $4.97 pairs of diamond earrings: A cheap thrill, we could all use more of those. Unfortunately the store has disappeared from the mall, leaving no forwarding address. DARN!(pitch)
Two lipsticks: Hideous colors I'd never wear (and when do I ever dress up enough for lipstick anyway?). Where did these come from? (Give to daughters, giving me the opportunity to later ask myself, "Why did I give them THOSE?")
A clear plastic weapon thingy belonging to a Transformer: Found in car (return to son)
Gold Cross mechanical pencil: The only writing instrument I could find in my purse to endorse my recently deposited check. At least it wasn't a crayon! (return to husband, steal his PEN for my purse)
A star peppermint: gift in return for tip left after last month's lunch date (keep...it's plastic wrapped and not yet sticky enough to pitch)
Zippered bag containing checkbook (w/credit cards, Monopoly "Get Out of Jail Free Card" and driver's license inside), calendar (with my life annotated in various colored inks…if it ain't on the calendar, it ain't happening!), too many receipts and business and appointment cards to count, and $200 in twenties: The G.O.O.J.F. card I keep to hand to a cop the next time I get pulled over for speeding (to one of the places I am always late in arriving at due to A: feeding twins, B: changing twins, or C: recovering from feeding and/or changing twins.) , thinking he might get a laugh out of it and give me a break...I'll let you know if it works! My husband forked over the twenties this morning, just before he left on a two-day business trip. Hmmm, grocery run or fast food? Who feels like cooking after another day of TWINSANITY? "Hey kiddos, it ain't gonna be Micky D's tonight!" (definite keepers)
A map, eye drops, five tampons, a nail board: Self-explanatory (keep)
Plastic case of .05 lead refills for the aforementioned mechanical pencil: ? (leave on hubby's desk w/mechanical pencil, snoop around 'til I find the refill for the pen)
My old diaphragm, sans case: In small zippered pocket inside larger zippered pocket in center of purse. Although it's been there for years, this find always surprises me! I can't remember WHY I put it in my purse (without the case esp.) in the first place. It's even more surprising now since I had my one remaining tube tied during the c-section birth of my twins last August. (for the surprise factor alone--keep)
A blue plastic hair pic: My hair is short and curly permed on top. (Who has time for blow dryers and curling irons?) Whatever happened to my good wood and metal pic? (keep)
Two index cards (one blue, one white) with names and phone numbers scrawled on them: The white one has my mother's address and four of her six phone numbers (surely I can't be expected to remember all of them, can I?) and the phone number of my ex's favorite motel (don't ask). The blue one has the phone, voice mail and pager numbers of a former homeless woman who once (along with her three children) shared my home (guess she's really come up in the world?), the phone number of the teenage girl who's had a crush on my oldest son for as long as I can remember and who talks to me instead when he won't talk to her (and her mother thinks I'm a perv because of it), and the number of a former neighbor/friend that I've been trying to remember for the longest time so I could call and let them know about the twins. (keep--make mental note to call sometime before the twins graduate high school)
Prescription medication bottle with one of my older daughter's names on it containing 5 3/4 of the labeled pills (?), 1 ibuprofen tablet, 1 alfalfa vitamin, 2 Ritalin tablets and 3 what I think are acetaminophen caplets: The labeled pills were supposed to help my daughter sleep but the pharmacist screwed up and gave us the wrong pills (flush); (add more ibuprofen for those inevitable headaches); the alfalfa vitamins were my mother's contribution while I was pregnant, they make you pee bright green (flush); middle son has A.D.H.D.(add more Ritalin); what are those caplets? (flush)
Assorted change and crumpled tissues: In the very bottom (drop the change in the change jar--last change rolling session netted $26.00…beginnings of the twins' college fund?, pitch tissues)
Cell phone in leather case: Clipped to outside pocket. My husband loves gadgets and we have cell phones in both our vans, I teased him that the next thing would be a cell phone on a gold chain to wear around my neck. Instead, I got a StarTac phone in a leather case. Nifty toy and makes me feel SO cool! Also comes in handy to call older son to remind him to be home when other kids get off the bus because one of the twins' numerous doctor's appointments ran over AGAIN. (recharge and keep)
Blue leather cigarette case containing Salem Ultra Light 100's, gas credit card and Zippo lighter: (Smoke--yes I do, my only bad habit, I'm always in the process of quitting but I really need one of those, so shoot me; Gas up--to get to all of those aforementioned doctor's appointments; Use to set fire to all those damn medical bills-won't make the actual responsibility go away but it sure will make an impressive bonfire!)
That's about it. Probably what says more about me than the contents of my purse is what it doesn't contain. For instance, pictures of my kids. Between hubby and I, we have NINE altogether. "His" four, "my" three, "our" twins. I don't carry pictures of them for two reasons. One: because anywhere from two to five of them are always with me. When you have those many, they all look alike after awhile. You've seen one, you've seen them all. (Seriously, I did have two digital pictures of the twins in there but I gave them to my daughter to show my ex-mother-in-law.) Two: In order to carry all those pics, I would need either a bigger purse or to remove more of the contents of the one I have to make room. I hate shopping (so call me unwomanly) and where the hell am I supposed to keep my diaphragm if I can't find the case??
Other than the hideous lipsticks (which we've already decided to pass on to the kids), there are no make-up, perfume, hair spray or any of those traditional "woman things." Between bathing and redressing two infants and supervising the "grooming" (IE. spit polish and a swipe of the comb) of the other kids each time we leave the house, who has the time or inclination to worry about how I look? I'm lucky if my clothes sort of match and are semi-clean. Sometimes when I'm speeding down the highway and catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror (as I'm scanning for cops with radar), I wish I had a bit of blush or something tucked into my purse. But that just brings us back to the space factor and you already know how that goes.
Another thing that says more about me is the actual purse itself. It's black satin finished leather. Goes with everything and practically indestructible. Double rations of baby "ralph" wipe right off. I used to change my purse with each outfit or season (I have a drawer full of purses to prove it) but I really don't see the point in it anymore. I mean, the tiny black velvet number does not go with ralph or strained squash at all. And who needs a cream-colored cotton beachy-type bag if one will not spend more than twenty minutes actually at the beach (the time it takes for children to become bored and at serious risk of future skin cancer)?
My medium-sized black leather purse suits me just fine. There's room enough to carry most things I need and the space factor is a bonus as well. You won't find any baby wipes, diapers, pacifiers, spare bottles, etc in my purse. If that were the case, I'd have to call it a diaper bag. There's enough in there to prove I'm a mom; enough receipts and doctor's appointment cards to prove I'm a mom of twins; and a few things in there to remind me that, in addition to everything else, I'm still a woman (like that diaphragm, LOL).
So, what's in your bag? Come on, visit **our forum and dump it out. I dare you!
~Shannon~
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