The Closest I'll Ever Come to Carrying a Purse
Abbie and I were out purchasing Vital Supplies yesterday. After pulling into the grocery store, I opened the door to rescue her from the tightly strapped car seat, and looked down. My life flashed before my eyes as I realized my most important possession was missing. Was it the frozen custard I just bought? Don’t be silly; yesterday’s flavor was Chocolate Heath Crunch, and I don’t like toffee enough to bend space so it’s “on the way.” The diaper bag was no longer in the vehicle.
The diaper bag contains all things Abbie. It has diapers, but it holds so much more than just that. It also has wipes, though they’re drier than a new Mel Gibson movie after sitting in the bag for a few months. I also keep some plastic sacks in the diaper bag to hold dirty diapers. That way when she needs a diaper change while we’re visiting people we like and wish to see again, I can wrap up the stinky diaper and dispose of it in the home of someone we don’t like and wish to never see again. I also carry a tube of diaper rash cream just in case I’m feeling particularly saucy while changing her diaper away from home. Sometimes I also remember to stuff a changing pad in there to protect the changing surface, assuming I can find a nice surface like a friend’s coffee table, to change her on, or to protect her from the changing surface in the event of needing to use a gas station bathroom floor.
The diaper bag also holds many entertaining items that have absolutely nothing to do with changing diapers, though the diaper rash cream, with it’s flip-up top, can double as entertainment. The bag holds books, lots of books, and books of all kinds. There’re books with soft vinyl pages, and books with soft cloth pages. There’re books with fabulous flaps for pages, and books with wonderful remarkable spectacular doompadee daps for pages. These are great to reach for when she’s strapped into the seat on a shopping cart, and I’m trying to ignore her protests while determining which brand of Vital Supplies has the lowest sodium. Just slip her a book and she’ll mostly entertain herself, requiring only occasional intervention from me to point to things and say their name, until of course she throws it on the ground. When this happens I have an assortment of toys to hand to her. It takes a special kind of toy to merit diaper bag inclusion: It must be small enough to fit in the bag, light enough to carry at all times, consist of one piece so I don’t have to keep track of several things at once, cheap enough that I won’t cry when it’s inevitably lost, and tough enough to survive multiple encounters with linoleum. When the toys lose their luster, I can fall back on my bag of Tasteeos. At least they used to be Tasteeos. Now they’re more of a fine whole grain powder milled from many journeys at the bottom of a full diaper bag.
Upon realizing the diaper bag and all its goodies were absent, I panicked, took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, and thought about where I’d seen it last. I knew it was the big box store we’d just visited, though the last place I knew I’d seen it was the checkout lane. Maybe I left it in the cart in the parking lot. I hopped back in the vehicle to drive back to the store; I needed to recover the bag as quickly as possible. I paid little attention to traffic, vehicle or pedestrian. Fortunately, the big-box store is across the street from the grocery store so I never had to make a choice between hitting a pedestrian and leaving the diaper bag exposed the elements and thievery a second longer than necessary. As I pulled into my old parking space, I spotted my old cart. Sitting in it was the diaper bag. Thankfully, no one molested it while it was gone; all the diapers, books, and toys were safe, along with that coupon for eggs I planned to use at the grocery store.
The diaper bag contains all things Abbie. It has diapers, but it holds so much more than just that. It also has wipes, though they’re drier than a new Mel Gibson movie after sitting in the bag for a few months. I also keep some plastic sacks in the diaper bag to hold dirty diapers. That way when she needs a diaper change while we’re visiting people we like and wish to see again, I can wrap up the stinky diaper and dispose of it in the home of someone we don’t like and wish to never see again. I also carry a tube of diaper rash cream just in case I’m feeling particularly saucy while changing her diaper away from home. Sometimes I also remember to stuff a changing pad in there to protect the changing surface, assuming I can find a nice surface like a friend’s coffee table, to change her on, or to protect her from the changing surface in the event of needing to use a gas station bathroom floor.
The diaper bag also holds many entertaining items that have absolutely nothing to do with changing diapers, though the diaper rash cream, with it’s flip-up top, can double as entertainment. The bag holds books, lots of books, and books of all kinds. There’re books with soft vinyl pages, and books with soft cloth pages. There’re books with fabulous flaps for pages, and books with wonderful remarkable spectacular doompadee daps for pages. These are great to reach for when she’s strapped into the seat on a shopping cart, and I’m trying to ignore her protests while determining which brand of Vital Supplies has the lowest sodium. Just slip her a book and she’ll mostly entertain herself, requiring only occasional intervention from me to point to things and say their name, until of course she throws it on the ground. When this happens I have an assortment of toys to hand to her. It takes a special kind of toy to merit diaper bag inclusion: It must be small enough to fit in the bag, light enough to carry at all times, consist of one piece so I don’t have to keep track of several things at once, cheap enough that I won’t cry when it’s inevitably lost, and tough enough to survive multiple encounters with linoleum. When the toys lose their luster, I can fall back on my bag of Tasteeos. At least they used to be Tasteeos. Now they’re more of a fine whole grain powder milled from many journeys at the bottom of a full diaper bag.
Upon realizing the diaper bag and all its goodies were absent, I panicked, took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, and thought about where I’d seen it last. I knew it was the big box store we’d just visited, though the last place I knew I’d seen it was the checkout lane. Maybe I left it in the cart in the parking lot. I hopped back in the vehicle to drive back to the store; I needed to recover the bag as quickly as possible. I paid little attention to traffic, vehicle or pedestrian. Fortunately, the big-box store is across the street from the grocery store so I never had to make a choice between hitting a pedestrian and leaving the diaper bag exposed the elements and thievery a second longer than necessary. As I pulled into my old parking space, I spotted my old cart. Sitting in it was the diaper bag. Thankfully, no one molested it while it was gone; all the diapers, books, and toys were safe, along with that coupon for eggs I planned to use at the grocery store.
posted by Matt at
9:27 PM
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