Thursday, January 16, 2014


I am not sure when it started.  Maybe in grade school?  I know my best friend used to be able to shop at The Limited and Benetton and I would go to the mall with her and be so envious of all she could get when I was wearing generics from Ames or Bradlees.  I did have some Outback Red and Forenza, but they were reserved for special occasions.  Growing up, I wanted for nothing...except the name brands that I so desperately craved.

At some point, my name brand desires started to include accessories. Purses, to be more specific.  And I was not above a knock off.

My dad had an apartment in New York and at least once a year, my girlfriends and I would go visit.  There we would by the finest Prada bags that $20 would buy.  We would come back to suburbia and show off our wares and they would be a constant reminder of the weekend in the big city and the fun and memories that we had.

Somewhere along the way, I started to crave the real thing.  Probably once I was working and actually making some money of my own.  And when I went real, I went Coach.

Ah, the bags I have accrued over the years!  Browns and blacks and many colors in between!  Wallets and key chains and wristlets.  But my favorite one of all?  The one Gary bought for me in January 2011 for my birthday.  The Coach diaper bag.

I was SO exited to use that bag.  I had visions of being out and about with my first born, bag slung over my shoulders, having the best time.  Making new memories and being happy.

When Allie died, all of her things went in storage in the basement.  Items from 3 different baby showers got packed up in trash bags and put away.  Most of it I never even thought about again until it was time to start preparing for Miranda's arrival.  It was just too hard.

Except for that diaper bag.  It never left my mind.  At one point, I removed the diaper changing pad and was going to use it as an every day purse, but it was simply too big.  Every few months, I would think about that bad, go visit it in the nursery room turned guest room closet (it was spared from banishment in the basement) and long for the day when I could use it.

And then the day came.  We got picked!  Miranda was born!  It was time to get her.  Time to load up the diaper bag.

I have used that bad for the last 9 and a half months.  It has carried diapers and wipes and burp cloths and back up outfits and formula and food and toys and more.  It has been everything I wanted it to be.  I do not even think about it anymore.  I put Miranda in her car seat and run out the door and grab the bag on my way out and do not give it another thought.  Until this week.  When I realized it was almost too big now.  I do not need as much "stuff" as I did when Miranda was an infant.  It's time to downsize soon.  

And just like that, my precious, much desired diaper bag will soon go in to storage but this time, after being well used and because I want it to be there.  And while the diaper bag served it's purpose and was very good to us, turns out the memories were and are of the baby that needed it.  Funny how that works, huh?  Who knew?

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