What? Clinging to some scraps?

Once for a brief time we owned a mini-van. It was well understood by everyone who was anyone to me that it was Jason's van. He loved the space (we had only three children then) and the smooth ride-whatever. I still to this day cannot reconcile myself to the fact that I am multiplying and replenishing my way back into one-but like a Mormon Van this time. This is our nickname for the big massive 10, 12 or (gulp) 15 passenger monsters. See I am too cool to drive a van. In fact I am to cool to be a mom of such a large family. Now back when I had three, four, and yes probably even five I was still pretty darn hip. Now with six and a huge, repeat huge belly, I'm neither trendy nor cool. This is hard for me. Even though there are women in our ward my age, they can still be posh cuz they are on their first child. No one is posh when they have seven. I don't even have the energy to try anymore.  I'm not really putting myself down, I am just realizing that I have lost the battle and need move on. Cute high heels? Maybe last year, but this year girls I'll be chasing my Irish twins through the halls at church and mama can move faster in flats. Same with shorter skirts-no one can squat/sit down easily without showing their delicates off so its long skirts as well-another sworn enemy I must relinquish. The list goes on-dangling earrings are too easily ripped out so I stick to my fabulous post Brighton earrings my mother got me for my birthday two years ago and as she didn't get me anything this year yet, here is a hint mom. Make-up? If I get time. Legs shaved? No one will see under the long skirt so its a toss up. Plucked eyebrows? When I find the tweezers the bug catchers took from me a few weeks, er, months ago. It is actually easier to embrace the whole large family motherhood role than fight it anymore. (Perhaps after I have this baby and can sleep normally again I'll change my mind-but then he'll be hungry and so plucking and shaving-probably not)

And finally, the thing that prompts this post. When I had Reno I bought a bag that was trendy, and hip. It was not a diaper bag because I was not one of those Winnie the Pooh toting girls. With each consequent child I bought a bag/purse that said, I'm a mom but ya know, like a trendy one. With Levi and Livy I had small Ariat bags that were/are awesome-but they are purses. I used one for each of them and then eventually I just carried one. When Lliam was born I used one purse/diaper bag as the others were 18 months and 2 1/2 so they all fit in one. Now Sundays are the real problem. My Sunday church Mary Poppins-y bag is a monster. It is heavy laden with books, coloring supplies, all the diaper bag type stuff, snacks, toys--everything I can possibly think of to keep a 2 and 3 year old quiet during Sacrament meeting and the baby happy-quiet is only achieved when he is asleep. It is no wonder that this poor bag's strap broke-but he died with his boots on and that is all we can ask from him. So after two weeks of carrying him with only one strap (who am I? My former self would die of mortification) I went to Target tonight to pick out my next purse/work tote thing.

As I looked and looked through the fancy leatherish looking bags none of them looked like me anymore. I would have felt silly buying a pseudo-sophisticated bag and then filling it with formula and bottles. On a very skeptical whim I checked the diaper bag section after I had grabbed wipes and there it was. A bag that can actually be cleaned. I really almost bought it for that reason alone. Imagine my surprise when I got home and there are four huge pockets inside to fit all of my categories of things. I am so smitten with my diaper bag. And when I walk into church tomorrow with my life altering bag slung on the shoulder of whatever child is close to me when we get out of the Yukon XL with a jumper seat so as not to necessitate our family buying a Mormon Van yet, no one will notice the bag. Because no one cares. Because no one knew I was hanging on to some scraps of vanity leftover from my youth. They all see me as I am, which is fine. I am happy with who I am, now that I am taking a moment to take inventory. So from now on I am embracing the fact that I carry a diaper bag; it no longer has to be a bad word. But in the interest of full disclosure, I am still not down with a Mormon Van. So you know, baby steps. 

*When I googled images of these vans and this bad boy came up I will be honest and say that my pride did not totally rebel. Very hip for a Mormon Van.*

*The title for the post is a line that Elaine uses on George. If you didn't get that, you don't get it. Its fine.*