Purse Predicaments and Pocketbook Progression

Purse Predicaments or Pocketbook Progression

Now I know what all you guys are thinking. You read the title, thought “doesn’t apply” and you’re getting ready to read the editorials. But I have seen more than my fair share of burly bearded ones sheepishly pacing back in forth in stores and in the corridors of malls stuck “holding the bag”. You know who you are. You have adopted a code that is more secretive than previous presidential administration’s “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” policy. You don’t even make eye contact. There is a false belief lurking about that if you don’t look at another man left holding a purse that it never happened.
You have your reasons for undertaking this practice. At first it seemed like a romantic thing to do. With love-struck stars in your eyes you didn’t blink twice at holding your beloved’s pocketbook. However, now the “twitterpated” stage of love has progressed to love that withstands the long haul, and you’re wondering if you’ll get stuck holding the bag until the cows come home, or at least until “She” is done shopping. Some of you practical guys, the analytical engineering types, did a time-motion study on the whole concept and decided that if you held the pocketbook “She” would get done shopping sooner, and you could therefore get home sooner. Hmmm. Good luck!
My husband doesn’t know what to think. I’m not much of a shopper, but on the rare occasion when we do go shopping together I have this slightly oversized purse that is not quite a diaper bag, not quite a pocketbook. It could be a backpack, but not really. Since the identity of this bag is undetermined he takes the safe road and doesn’t make eye contact with the other guys stuck holding bags.
It is a celebrated rite of passage for a woman to give up her diaper bag. B.C. (Before Children) I was happy to travel light. I was a minimalist. However, with three children came the stark reality that I’d better be prepared for anything. A few disastrous events added to my Mommy memories prompted me to fortify my diaper bag like a tornado bunker. I had enough provisions in there to feed, clothe and if necessary make temporary shelter for a few days for a gaggle of kids.
However, as our youngest son became potty trained I began looking at the old green monster I was schlepping around with disdain. A few months ago I treated myself to a new bag, a slimmer, sleeker, neutral colored, stain resistant, kid proof bag. I couldn’t quite get rid of the “green monster” though. I put it in the trunk of the van. I’m still prepared, but not for “everything”.
Last month we went to a concert with friends and the attendants who took our tickets also did a security sweep on everyone. As I opened my “purse” there were baby wipes, matchbox cars, and a small change of clothing for a little person, lots of Kleenex, and hand cleaner. There may have actually been some lip gloss in there, but I think it had been contaminated with Teddy Graham crumbs. Anyways, I was thinking to myself, “Wow, I don’t even have any kids with me tonight; I could have carried a real girl bag!” But like many other things, it’s a habit. Luckily no one at the holiday concert needed a change of clothes, and I didn’t hear any rumbling tummies in need of nourishment.
Someday when the kids are all grown I’ll go back to being a minimalist. But my pocketbook has changed forever. I’ve seen grandmothers carrying around extra provisions, “just in case”, and I’ve seen grandfather’s pacing outside the store left holding the bag. The only difference is they seem to have a twinkle in their eye, they aren’t afraid to look at you. You see, they have learned the secret. As long as they are holding the bag they aren’t home working on a “Honey-Do” list and that’s alright by them.


Kim Mihelich