Bringing New Meaning to Food Preservatives

I rummaged around in my purse for a snack the other day (there was crazed midget near me being tortured with food deprivation. She has rotten parents.) and found a tangerine. Perfect, right? Unless that tangerine has managed to dehydrate and harden into a leathery lump. Like most moms’ handbags, lots of things go into mine but usually only money comes out. (Remember what was in there the last time I went on an archaeological dig?) The layers upon layers of receipts, Kleenex and crayons created the ideal conditions for a tangerine to totally and perfectly fossilize in a mere three months. Oh yes, I can date the fruit. It’s science. (Check out the Happy New Year sticker on it.) This is the historical find of the year, I tell you.
Mom-Colored Glasses is going on spring break! Regular posts will resume after my week of nearly nude, drunken fun in Miami with college men. Or, you know, I might get the oil changed and clean some closets. Still deciding.

Confessions of a Handbag

I’m going to let you into the dark underbelly of my world. It’s a place I cannot live without, yet I shudder at the thought of anyone peeking in. Even on my most pulled-together days, the reality of this place makes no question of the fact that my world is out of control.

My purse.

Gone are the days of small clutches or even diaper bags—I carry the world on my left shoulder . . . and I mean that nearly literally. Following are the contents of my purse; ONE purse that defies the laws of physics and contains everything I need plus a lot I don’t. It’s an ugly scene, rarely exposed, almost never cleaned, indicative of a life of chaos: Something only a mother could love.

• Sticky note reminder: “Pay gardener.”

• Keys

• Snack-sized Tupperware box containing pretzels and Cheerios.

• Cell phone.

• Completed grocery list including ingredients for salmon goat cheese burritos.

• Neutrogena sunblock, spf 45.

• Plastic kid keys.

• Old-school weekly appointment book for 2009.

• One pair size 2T panties (not mine).

• Portable toilet seat adapter (for tiny hineys).

• One diaper (just in case).

• Wallet, including $22 in cash.

• My sunglasses.

• Sally’s sunglasses.

• Ooh, mint!

• Sparkly red barrette.

• Four used tissues.

• Travel pack tissues (clean).

• Migraine medication.

• Blue crayon.

• Black and silver pendant earrings.

• Glasses.

• Old checkbook.

• Current checkbook.

• Bag of M&Ms.

• One-ounce containers of Play-Doh: orange and blue.

• sliver bracelet.

• Flashlight. I did not put that in there.

• American flag stickers.

• Black necklace.

• Black bracelet (I often must de-jewelify after work or be strangled with my own accessories).

• One pair ruffled ankle socks (again, not mine).

• Baby Einstein “Dogs” miniature board book.

• One binder clip.

• Medicine bottle containing cocktail of Tylenol, Advil and Tums.

• Receipts: Costco, Great American BBQ, The Cafe at the Alumni Center (x 3), Sears, pediatrician copay, Beverly’s, McDonalds, Encinal Market, Post office, Trader Joe’s.

• Marriott hotel key card (makes me almost sound exciting).

• Five pens.

• Seven lipsticks (it’s a weakness).

• NutriGrain breakfast bar wrapper, raspberry.

• Aurora figurine (that’s Sleeping Beauty to the princessly challenged).

• Brush.

• Flash drive.

• String cheese from unknown date.

For the record, after this exercise everything (except the used Kleenex, cheese, receipts and uh, the candy) went right back into their black hole.