Dear Abby: What's In Your Bag?

Right after US Weekly does a review of the latest arthouse indie film and updates its readers on Europe's sovereign debt crisis, it plunges even greater depths of current affairs.

It asks stars like Niecy Nash (no clue), Jennifer Love Hewitt (Party of Five, something about ghosts, John Mayer, breasts), and Stacy Keibler (George Clooney, Lake Como) "what's in your bag"?  It's a penetrating analysis of what kind of lip gloss they can't live without and how much more they spend on eye cream than the rest of us.  It's all very relatable.  The only downside is the number of dictionaries and thesauri one must have nearby during one's review of said column.  The stars use BIG words, like Creme de la Mer ($275 for 0.4 oz).

Naturally, every time one of this blog's fans reads about the organic vegan water preference of the Hollywood It Girl du jour, she thinks of me.  So in this installment of Dear Abby, I'm answering the hard-hitting question: what's in my bag?

While many mothers these days are trying to adapt a cute designer-ish tote bag into the standard diaper bag role, I am not.  That takes too much energy.  Plus, common folk tote bags involve too few compartments and pockets.  I need options for where I'm going to lose things, and I need my bag to do its part in the hide-and-seek game that I so enjoy playing with crumbs, snacks, and pharmaceutical products.

Ergo, my bag is the size of a small carry-on suitcase; if actually checked as luggage with an air carrier, I would have to pay the extra weight surcharge.  That's because my bag weighs as if it is carting elephant tusks....still attached to the elephant.

The bag is a lovely oblong shape in the color "camouflage."  Kind of like this:

Only more camo-y.

It would look appropriate for me to use if I (a) were an extra in the Hunger Games; (b) a bow-and-arrow enthusiast wearing a neon orange baseball cap; or (c) trying to scramble over a national border.  I am none of those things.  I use the bag because my sister-in-law won it or something and she gave it to me.  (Because I live in Maine, and she lives in New York City.)

The outside pockets of the bag contain, in no particular order:

• A collection of napkins from local ice cream establishments;
• Sanitizing hand spray that I have applied to my children maybe 0.5 times;
• A red crayon;
• A thin film of crust from snacks consumed in the days of yore;
• The feather of a passing seagull;
• A white rock collected from a beach and lovingly named My Rock; and
• A dried-out tube of lip gloss purchased at CVS in 2010 ($3.99).

I just love all these items so much and I couldn't live without them.  I use the napkins to wipe my upper lip sweat that I lather into after hauling the bag and two children around for a few minutes.  I use the sanitizing hand spray to pretend with onlookers that I'm a parent who cares about germs and cleanliness.  I use the red crayon as a lip liner.  I use the snack dust to rub on my teeth for when I need a protein kick.  The seagull feather doubles as a comb, the white rock as a way to break into my house when I've forgotten the keys, and the lip gloss tube as a teething ring. 

They're all organic and very expensive and fancy and I'm very special.  But also down-to-earth and fun-loving, in a quirky and endearing sort of way.

The inside pockets of the bag contain, in no particular order:

• Regular diapers, swim diapers, and overnight diapers;
• Wipes;
• Vaseline and diaper rash cream;
• 23 crayons in various states of decay and decapitation;
• A thin film of crust from snacks consumed in the days of yore;
• A small toy store's worth of plastic chew toys, including some perhaps meant for a dog;
• A change of clothes in size 3-6 months for my 11-month-old son;
• A change of clothes in size 5T for my 4-year-old daughter;
• Snacks for babies;
• Snacks for preschoolers;
• Instant coffee (decaf); and
• My wallet.

I just love all these items so much and I couldn't live without them.  I use the diapers only when my son smells so badly that we're borderline causing a public health emergency.  I use the wipes to clean up every end of each of my children, as well as to wash my car.  The Vaseline and diaper rash cream are my hair products (the former for days I want straight, the latter for days I know I'm stuck with the curls).  The crayons would keep my daughter entertained, if only I had remembered to bring a coloring book or at least a scrap of paper.  But I'm a fast thinker and I did bring my wallet, so my dollar bills are covered in flowers and fireworks.  The snack dust acts as glitter for art projects on the fly.  The chew toys are for me to use to try to distract my son and then invite frustration when the only thing he wants to play with is my earlobe or my front teeth.  The changes of clothes are sentimental reminders of what once was and what is to come.  The snacks are for grocery store check-outs, car rides longer than 1 minute, and daughters who need something to do with their mouths other than tell stories that last an average of 12 minutes.  The instant coffee is there because it was purchased at a grocery store a couple weeks ago and I just keep forgetting to put it in the kitchen.  My wallet is there so I can buy the coloring book I forgot and/or so that I have proper identification if and when I decide to make a break for Canada.

They're all organic and very expensive and fancy and I'm very special.  But also down-to-earth and fun-loving, in a quirky and endearing sort of way.

Stars - they're just like us!  And vice versa!