However, things have gotten a little out of hand lately. Though my clothing choices and certainly my shoe choices leave much to be desired, I've always kind of prided myself on carrying a nice purse. This isn't to make any sort of fashion statement, rather it's a way for me to feel okay about never switching bags. Even before I had kids I carried a big purse. It was usually something designer (Summer) and very versatile and would carry my books, my giant wallet, my phone, several tubes of Chap-Stick, and other random paraphernalia. When I did have kids, I started carrying this:
Which was big and fine and Gwen Stefani uses Skip Hop products so that makes it a little trendy, right? RIGHT??
And then my kids started getting really big. And MOBILE. See this video for an example:
I mean, seriously. They never stop. And so I figured it was time to stop trying to wrestle my giant diaper bag AND both banshees:
And get a backpack.
Yes, ladies. Think about it. Me in my Chacos, Target yoga pants, Whatever's-on-sale tank tops, and a backpack. No makeup. We won't discuss the hair.
Anyway, to save whatever shred of dignity I had left in the fashion department I did some due diligence and researched. Skip Hop has a back pack... it's way bigger than even I wanted. There are countless other varieties, all in the hundreds of dollars, and I passed on all of them. Too this, too that, not enough whatever...
Until I found this gem sitting in Anna's closet:
It is perfect. Perfect size, perfect amount of compartments. Easily wipeable on the inside and forces me to carry less stuff so I can wrangle these two:
What? That looks familiar, you say? Well, maybe I should zoom in on that white tag on the bottom, there:
Why, yes, fellow mommas. You have seen this bag before. The generous souls at Similac gave it to you in the hospital when you had your babies and your boobs were about to fall off from trying to nurse for the first time.
'Here,' the bag whispers. 'Take this, you poor, tired momma... and some formula...' I'm sure this backpack is still stained from the tears I wept in the hospital that first time, during nursing hell.
Inside I found the long-expired formula samples, and when I threw them out I realized that this backpack was the one. The ONE.
'You could at least cut the tag out,' a friend told me, thinking that she was saving me some humiliation. But no. That is not happening. I'm workin' this back, just like I'm workin' being a Mom. A woman in her thirties works it.
And with the money I saved buying a new backpack, I think some Anniversary Sale Frye boots might be in order.