I am always completely confounded when I see women carrying around dainty little purses.  First of all, what are they possibly carrying in that pathetic thing?  Second of all, why bother carrying a purse at all?  I have never been able to make an everyday bag out of one of those delicate and dainty things.  I carry way too much crap….but I NEED that crap!

I am a bag addict.  I LOVE purses.  I’m not much for shopping.  In fact, I LOATHE shopping.  I try to avoid it at all costs.  Show me to the purse section and I can browse quietly with a small tear in the corner of my eye for days.  I don’t know why I’m like this, really.  I guess when it comes to shopping for purses you don’t need to worry about size or if it makes you ass look big or accentuates your third and fourth chin.  On slow nights here at the Canon Love Nest (barf) I can often be found on Overstock.com browsing through their handbags and drooling profusely.  I never buy any of them (because they are still really expensive) but I just love to look at them.

Even when I was in high school my purse was always a bit bigger than the other girls.  I carried books (recreational reading) and little snacks in my purse and therefore could not carry the itty bitty wimpy purses like my peers.  I stayed within that basic purse size until I had Lukas.  At first, I waa able to keep most of his crap in his diaper bag.  Then, as he started getting older, his stuff started creeping into my purse and when he reached about 18 months of age we gave up the diaper bag altogether and I had to open the precious space inside of my purse to my offspring who, ironically, I had to open space in my womb to accommodate as well.  When will he ever be satisfied?!?  My purse size doubled.  Now to be fair, he only has a few things in my purse.  Like I wrote before….I carry a lot of stuff.

Here are some examples of my purses.  That huge black one on the left is my current purse.  The two tiny satin-y ones in the middle are these adorable little formal bags that I’ve never had the chance to carry because I never go anywhere more formal than an Applebee’s.  The purse on the far right is a purse that I carried for years and is the size of all the bags that I carried before Lukas.

This is all of the stuff that I keep in my current bag.  It’s a lot of big things.  Are you curious about what a mommy keeps in her bag?  Too bad, you’re about to find out.

-Wet wipes

-Small first aid kit

-Go Diego Go Band-aids

-Keys

-Wallet

-Toy keys

-Toy Cell Phone

-Spare tampon

-Hand sanitizer

-Sunglasses

-Cell Phone

-Pill Box (containing pain medication for mommy)

-Motion sickness pills (for mommy.  Mommy’s a puker.)

-Umbrella

-Tissues

-Hand lotion

-3 different kinds of lip balm

-Red book for writing ideas (I use it a lot)

-Check book (I’m amazed at how often I still need this stupid thing)

-Address book

-Pens and pencil

-Calculator

-Fork and Spoon set for Lukas (they aren’t metal so when we go out to eat and he needs a fork or spoon I don’t have to listen to him biting down on the metal and it spares everybody of a psychotic attack from me.)

-Gum (I don’t like having bad breath)

Depending on the situation, I also stuff sunblock, spare diapers, spare clothing, and hats in my purse.  As you can see, most of the stuff in my purse is not mommy-related.  It’s stuff that I need when I leave the house.

So I ask again, how on earth are these women getting by on those teeny tiny bags?  What the hell are they carrying in there?  Is there some sort of new shrinking technology of which I am not yet aware?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall now be heading over to my favorite site for purses and drooling over sensual leather and canvas bags.  They make me feel saucy.

I keep reading that last depressing post of mine over and over again and I feel that I should explain a thing or two…not really to let you all know that I’m not a giant douchebag, but in a lame attempt to make myself better understood.  To any long-time readers of this site, it is not a strange thing to read of my bitching that Jessie is the most beloved and I am the most hated in our families.  Of course, I exaggerate a little bit, but there is also a grain of truth to all of it.  To make myself clear, my beef isn’t with Jessie.  I know he’s a great guy.  I’m the one that effing married him.  I’m the one that had a child with him.  I’m the one that lives with him and washes his underwear!  I know that he’s great and I’m madly in love with him.  It’s outside forces that are constantly making me feel pitted against him in the fight between good and evil…with me obviously being the evil one.

I think I’ve always had a problem with people not really understanding me.  It’s not because I am this insanely complex creature, but rather because I have been cursed with family members and acquaintances who choose to make assumptions about my personality and character rather than taking the time to get to know me.  I have family members who actually talk about me behind my back like I am dirt.  They talk about me to my brother (who, like a good brother, tells me about it) and they talk about me to people I know who tell me.  My father once told my mother that he felt sorry for Jessie for being with me and that I needed to be smacked.  Look, my dad is a deadbeat father who has never made any real attempts to hide his contempt for me, but that REALLY hurt my feelings and it bothers me to this day that he said that.  He’s one of those people who knows absolutely bupkis about me, but still feels qualified to make generalized statements about me.  The sad thing is, a lot of people do this to me.  A lot of close family members do this to me.  It’s easy for some reason to make a villain of me.  Why, I wonder?  Because I’m straight forward?  Because I’m not much for side-swiping the issue?  Because I have a bit of an attitude?  Because I’m not a fan for ass kissing?  Because I don’t like to be fake, like so many of them can be?  What is it about me that bothers these people to such a degree that they feel the need to put me down like that? 

As I’ve said before, I don’t have thick skin.  And I sure as shit don’t have thick skin against the attacks of those who, to my face, pretend to love and adore me and behind my back talk about me like I’m better off locked in a cage having hot oil dumped on my head twice daily.  I take time every night before I go to sleep to remember why I am lucky.  I have Jessie.  He loves me despite my shortcomings and quirks.  He likes that I’m hard-headed and he loves that I’m strong-willed.  He understands me, but still he loves me.  Shocker. 

I have Lukas, who is happy, healthy, and perfect in my eyes.  I’m his mommy and he loves me.  He may never really understand all of me, but he’ll know me, and that’s just as good.

I have my brother, who understands me and loves me despite the fact that I am crazy and a little unhinged.  He’s always been my ally and I know that of all my family, he will always have my back.

I have my mom, who I don’t think totally gets me, but she’s close enough.  She doesn’t have any expectations about our relationship.  She just wants to talk to me and know my son.  What else dare I ask of her?  She’s madly in love with my son and my husband and if she sees my shortcomings a little more than my good sides, that’s ok because she really honestly loves me.

I have my wonderful, beautiful friends, who make sure to always let me know that they love me and are glad to know me.  I see people around me go through friends like toilet paper, but I’m still close to people that I’ve known since before I went through puberty.  These people know me, they know my problems, they know my family, and they know my quirks…and they love me still. 

Looking at all of those people at the end of the day and knowing that although the people who hate me may outnumber the people who love me, the people who love me are the scrappy bar-fight kind of people and would join me in a proper ass-kicking session if I ever asked them to do so.  I’d never do that, of course.  I’d like to think that I’m above that kind of stuff, but knowing that it’s there if I need it makes me smile.

This was the most anticipated baby ever!  There was a large group of us that were set on Red Alert waiting for this gorgeous little girl to arrive.  We feverishly checked our cell phones for text messages, complained incessantly to each other on Facebook, and pitied poor Helen for being 9 + months pregnant in THIS HORRIBLE HOT WEATHER. 

But the little lady came via an induction today.  She was born a very big girl at 9 lbs. 5 oz. and 20 inches long.  That’s very close to my monster baby.

Ah, just look at that squishy face.  I told Helen via text message that she looks like a hungover Hellie.  She looks like a smooshy newborn! I can’t wait for the open-eyed pictures to see if she has gigantic huge blue eyes like Helen AND little Sophia (Riley’s cousin). 

My warmest congratulations to the new parents Helen and Dennis.  I’m so very happy for the two of them that they now have a healthy baby girl to make them laugh.  Everybody says that life is never the same after children, and it’s true.  But don’t let that scare you, it’s in the best way possible.  You reach a point where you wonder how there ever was life before your baby and you know that your child has given you a brand of happiness that couldn’t have possibly come in any other form.  Only a small, screaming, pants-pooping bundle like a baby could make you this happy.  Congratulations again!