Celebrating the wonder that is mom’s purse

It is in this month that we celebrate Mother’s Day and show our appreciation for mothers and everything they do.  But, as a dad, I also want to take a moment to recognize the wonderment that is the Mom Purse.

When I go out with my daughter, I have my wallet, keys, phone, a tissue, maybe some hair clips for her, and perhaps Chapstick, but I hate having things in my pockets. I try to take the fewest things possible.  However, when my wife is with us, and something is needed, items appear from her purse like Hermione Granger’s never-ending handbag from the Harry Potter movies. I have become dependent on my wife’s purse, knowing that there are band-aids, ibuprofen, a sewing kit, a shopping bag, candy and/or gum, tissues, wipes, hand sanitizer, a USB flash drive, a granola bar, a pen, and other mysterious items.  There might even be a potion or two.

I believe that the Mom Purse spans across generations. As a child, I remember my own mother’s purse, which held certain items reliably: Trident gum (Original, Fruit, or Spearmint only) that always tasted vaguely of perfume, one sample size of perfume, loose tissues, lipstick, an emory board, at least one cellophane-wrapped mint from a restaurant, one or two sugar packets, toothpicks in paper, a dime (to call for an emergency), and occasionally saltines. Yet, there was always a little excitement in being able to check my mom’s purse, in case there was a forgotten treat inside.

I know I could carry a Man Bag, with no threat to my cred as a dad, but I have not developed the habit of carrying these supplies and tools of parenting. Mostly, I can rely on the Mom Purse nearby (or even the Mom Purses of others).

When my daughter was little, we had the diaper bag backpack that I dutifully carried, full of diapers, ointment, extra clothes, changing pad, pacifier, wipes, extra plastic bags for when no trash was near, hand sanitizer, teething ring, a smaller container of formula and more that I am probably forgetting. Every outing was punctuated by the amount of stuff that needed to be carried–”just in case.”  Like many parents of young children, I became reliant on the backpack to contain all that was needed to soothe, clean, and calm an active toddler, assuring my wife that her purse was unnecessary.

One time, we were visiting a small children’s museum in Los Angeles with our then-toddler.  As she was enjoying the interactive exhibits, I noticed a dark stain on the bottom of her cute, pale green, summer romper. Given the allure of the museum activities, my wife and I quickly shuttled her to the family bathroom to resolve the situation.  Changing an active toddler in a confined space with exciting activities outside is a bit like wrestling with an octopus. Luckily, I had the backpack full of the necessary items, or so we thought. When I looked in the backpack, there was not a complete change of clothes–only a t-shirt. I took the romper off, with its big smear of the end product of breakfast, and tried to wash it off sufficiently, so she could wear it and go back out to play.  After five rounds of a hand dryer, the wetness was there, and the contrasting brown stain was plain to see. We finally decided that we would absorb the stares of the other parents and let her roam around in her diaper, hoping that there would not be a hull breach. The outing ended well, but since that day and to date, my wife and I always have a complete change of clothes in our cars for my daughter. The bag had failed us (or, we had failed the bag). And, the Mom Purse is never left behind.

I celebrate the Mom Purse as an extension of celebrating the mom. All the moms I know are prepared with various supplies in their purses.  As a consequence, the dads are free to not carry things or think about the “what ifs” because we know there are supplies nearby.  If there is ever a real disaster, I will happily shelter with a group of moms with big purses, whose contents will certainly keep us fed, clean, and bandaged.

The well-stocked Mom Purse is really emblematic of moms, in general, who lug around stuff not for themselves but for the care of others. Moms are selfless in sacrificing their own comfort to be sure the needs of others are met. Thank you, Moms, as Mom Purse schleppers, for thinking of the possibilities and needs of the rest of us. Happy Mother’s Day!

Robert (Rob) S. Weisskirch, MSW, Ph.D., CFLE is a Professor of Human Development at California State University, Monterey Bay and is a Certified Family Life Educator. He and his wife are parents to a chatty, elementary school-aged daughter and reside in Marina.