The Diaper Bag Metaphor

Confession: Sometimes I resent my diaper bag. It feels like a ball and chain, representing the fancy-free lifestyle I no longer have. 

Ever wonder why women are expected to carry all "the stuff?" Why don't men carry "the stuff?" 

I had an epiphany about this recently while reading Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom by Christiane Northrup. She says: 

The uterus and ovaries [are]...both literally and figuratively creative space, out of which women can produce babies, relationships, money, careers, novels, insights, and other creative or artistic works. 

When I think of the uterus as potential space, I also think of what we as women are usually expected to 'store' in there. A slang term for the uterus is 'the bag,' and as humans who have or have had a uterus, we are also the ones who carry all the stuff that others don't want to carry. Women who are married and have children often notice that their children give them - not their husband - the half-eaten food, gum wrappers, and other garbage that they no longer want to carry. 

This is a fascinating way to think of the diaper bag! It is an extension of pregnancy - a continuation of the way we "carry" our children. We carry their "stuff!" 

Even if your husband does sometimes shoulder the diaper bag, he doesn't share ownership. It isn't the family bag, even though it is a necessity for the family. It is YOUR diaper bag and yours to pack it on a regular basis. Daddy lacks a uterus that is used to accomodating all the the family's needs. 

These days I can't leave the house without the following in my diaper bag:  

• Ava's diapers
• Ava's wetbag
• Changing pad
• Nursing cover
• Extra outfit for Ava (in case of an accident)
• Wipes
• Burp cloth
• Swaddle blanket
• Extra underpants for Miles (in case of an accident)
• Extra pants for Miles (in case of an accident)
• Miles' milk cup
• Miles' travel potty
• Medicine bag (an old makeup bag filled with Neosporin, teething gel, gas drops, baby Tylenol, and Band-Aids)
• Coloring books/activity games for Miles
• Wallet
• Phone
• Keys
• Tissues

I carry all this shit! 24/7. On my person!

No wonder I resent that damn bag, no matter how much I love the Marc Jacobs design that my sister picked out. It is heavy and uncomfortable and I can never get it to close properly. BUT it is also my privilege as a woman! 

If the diaper bag represents my reproductive uterus, I should learn to love it. It produced two gorgeous and healthy babies. So then it is my biological privilege to carry all "the stuff." My husband can't do that with the same meaning. It is part of what makes motherhood kind of amazing. 

So the next time Miles decides he is done decorating his sister with stickers and hands me the rest of the sheet to put back in my Mary Poppins carpet bag of "stuff," I will remember that it is my privilege to be the one carrying all this stuff. One day, they will both be long gone, carrying their own stuff, and I will miss the days of finding soggy puffs stuck to my iPhone. 

Miles takes stickers from Mommy's diaper bag and decorates his sister.

Putting Myself On A Time Fast

I have been a bit of a psycopath lately. In the last few weeks, I could have written a classic guide on how NOT to overextend yourself because I have done just that. I think I have handled it with relative sanity but I am ready to pull back on the reigns.

We just moved into the most beautiful house in New Jersey where my son has his own room, his own backyard, parks nearby, and more. It is a dream come true but it was a nightmare getting here. Our escrow closed 2 weeks late and required my full attention in the six weeks between our offer being accepted and our close date. Every day our lender needed something else that required digging, negotiating, re-signing documents. There were many tears of frustration.

Then came the move, which is stressful in and of itself. We still don't have our wireless router installed so I am writing this post using an AT&T Android phone as a wireless hotspot. 

In those same six weeks that we were working on an escrow and moving, we traveled long distances four times. FOUR! I worked for Disney hosting travel videos on their cruise to Alaska, Clayton covered the Apple conference in June in San Francisco, we visited Clayton's family in Pennsylvania for a belated Father's Day celebration, and we went on an annual camping trip with my family in Northern California that was planned long before I knew we would be moving.

So to tabulate: that is four long-distance trips coupled with a move and an escrow from hell. And now that we are back and travel is wrapped up, I have Baby Mo's first birthday party staring me down the nose: 10 days to go and counting.

A more sane family might have said no to any of the above obligations to keep a little sanity but not us. We pride ourselves on being able to juggle a lot with baby in tow and our baby is VERY resilient as a result. He has been on 21 airplane rides in just 11 months and can adjust to any time zone in just one day. Plus, he gets to spend A LOT of time with both parents, which I can already tell is beneficial to him given the words and sounds he is speaking so early! (Proud mommy!)

But there are consequences. Mommy feels unsettled and overextended. Daddy does too. We have a house with beds and bathrooms but absolutely no where to sit down - no couches, chairs, kitchen table even. We long for stability and organization.

I recently listened to this podcast by Christane Nothrup about time management. She says that if you are constantly worried about not having enough time, you never will. She suggests re-framing your mindset about time so that your day can expand to fit the things you want to accomplish. I love that. She suggests a "time fast." This means that for one day or one week, you try to prohibit yourself from saying or thinking that you don't have time. I am going to try that. I don't want to spend precious play time with Baby Mo thinking, "Okay let's play but when you go down, I have to pay bills and return emails." Talk about a waste of time!

So I hereby put myself on a time fast. Care to join me?