The Mom Bag

Men equate the "official" arrival of parenthood with trading in their small, cute, and sporty ride, which most of their friends envy and beg to go cruising in, for a practical and spacious Mom-mobile, aka the Mini-Van, which causes most of their friends to disguise themselves before stepping in for a ride.

Not woman. We'd be OK with a Mini-Van. For us, it's trading in our cute designer handbags for what our co-workers refer to as "the mom bag." With tears in my eyes, I tucked Kate, Andi, and Coach into a safe spot in my closet and broke down and bought A Vera Bradley cross-body cargo sling. This bag is the Mother of all bags. It's has enough room and pockets to pack up all my child paraphernalia, in fact I think I could pack a small child in it too.

I decided to take make bag out for a test drive. I wore it to my son's school fair. I was instantly plagued by Moms green with envy. They were in awe over all the pockets and "the colors," one mom excitedly declared "it goes with everything!" I imagined what followed was similar to to the Man's version of testing the waters with his new ride. You know, when a Dad pulls up with the top of the line mini-van and shows off all the bells and whistles, to other curious Dads who are contemplating taking the plunge, in hopes to gain their approval.

The question and answer session continued for a 20 minutes. "Have you tried to wash it yet?" "What other colors does it come in?" "Can you strap it to your stroller?" "Is it heavy?" "Can I try it on?"

So, yes it is official. I am now the proud owner of a "mom bag." And like most everything else that I've come to acquire through motherhood, I love it.

Is Diarrhea of the Mouth Contagious?

My husband seems to think that I have this awful aliment. Things just spew out of my mouth uncontrollably. For example, when I told his mother, over a nice dinner, that her kitchen wall paper was totally out dated. He refers to these thoughtless spells of mine as "diarrhea of the mouth."

If this is in fact what I suffer from, than I think my children have come down with the same affliction. My boys tend to share the most humiliating things at the most inopportune times. Like the time we were shopping at the Gap and my Tank announced to the kind woman behind the counter, "My mommy poopies in the potty." Or the time that my little General's pre-school teacher noted how much Scotty had grown over vacation, and he responded with, "yeah, I'm getting bigger so I can drink beer like my Dad."

Yes, I am beginning to believe that this particular sickness really does exist. Our most recent presentation of the indisposition happened at our neighborhood block party. Again it was the General who was unable to control himself, while he looked at our very kind yet very bald neighbor, he and asked, "Where did all of your hair on your head go? Is it hiding on your back?" I quickly apologized and told my neighbor, who was thankfully humored by the remark, that my children and I suffer from what my husband refers to as "diarrhea of the mouth." He chuckled and assured me that it wasn't just us, his wife and children make him endure the same condition.