The Girl with Lots of Stuff

I always wanted a cool nickname.  Something like “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.”  But when I was little my dad’s nickname for me was “The Girl with Lots of Stuff,” and that included an overstuffed book satchel and a lunch box.  Today “lots of stuff” is an understatement.  Today I’m a mom, and I have to plan for every single eventuality.  For the “nows,” the “laters,” the “what-ifs,” and the “just in case.”  Today my stuff isn’t just double or triple the amount it was when I was eight years old.  This is “Girl with Lots of Stuff 2.0: The Mommy Version.” 

The amount of stuff I carry with me now is scary.  For the first time in my life I’m ripped.  I’m like a female bodybuilder (minus the steroids of course). In Africa the ladies carry the laundry on their heads to the watering hole.  I’m seeing this as a practical solution to my desperate need for a hands-free moment, so I’m starting to practice my head-balancing skills.  I’ll start with a few board books, and eventually work my way up to the bulk-sized box of wet wipes from Costco.

My mommy mantra is “Be Prepared!”  Case in point, I never regret having that extra outfit when the diaper explodes in the grocery checkout line or car sickness strikes. I’m glad I have five clean sippy cups, because Leilani will throw two of them on the filthy concrete in the parking lot on the way to the puppet show and the other two will go MIA, held hostage by my car’s knee-deep ocean of “effluvia,” my dad’s favorite euphemism for crap.  My car is the worst: it’s like the Baby’s R Us going out of business sale during the apocalypse.  Now I’m schlepping my usual three tote bags plus Leilani and her new favorite sidekick, the Easter basket shaped like Elmo’s head. Until I figure out the feng-shui path to parenting, I will proudly continue to build muscle mass while ensuring that Leilani never goes without, not even for a second.

Okay now the car is loaded, the key is almost in the ignition.  No wait, I forgot the kitchen sink!  God, I need help.