Fanny Pack

I sit down with my pen and paper to write. I'm told that's what people who call themselves writers need to do occasionally. The snow is falling. The fire is crackling. The house is quiet. The house is even clean! What better opportunity? But the interruptions are greater than usual. My girls are outside playing in the snow with their dog. They are also knocking on the door needing assistance with gloves. When they aren't knocking on the door they are knocking on the window mouthing important messages that I cannot understand. This is a joke! I should just abandon this writing and go play with them. The mail lady delivers an Amazon package. I jump up to open it. I ordered something for myself and I can't wait to see it. Inside the box is a pillow insert. I did not order a pillow insert. But Chad yells from the office, "That's my hockey pucks." Okay.... maybe the hockey pucks are packaged in something that looks like a pillow insert?? Back to my pen. Shiloh knocks on the door asking if her shoes were in that package. "No, it was daddy's hockey pucks." Back to my pen. Someone is knocking on the door again. This time it's the mail lady. "I gave you the wrong Amazon package." That certainly makes more sense! She hands me the correct package. 

Its contents include new shoes for Shiloh's first day of school. And a fanny pack. A quilted, cognac fanny pack with a gold zipper. It's exactly my style. I slip it over my head and wear it crossbody like all the influencers. I look in the mirror and start laughing and laughing. I think it might look stupid. But I also think I love it. I go upstairs to show Chad and he says, "Thankfully, you don't usually carry a purse when you're with me." I laugh even harder. I pick up my pen again and the words come in a rush. I realize this is about so much more than a fanny pack. 

This morning, I helped Shiloh pack her backpack for school. Pencils, eraser, crayons, puppy folder, unicorn notebook. Isn't she missing something? I slip in a small chunk of my heart when she's not looking. She straps it on so proud. I forgot how big backpacks are on five year olds. She looks like a turtle who ordered the wrong size of shell. But it's okay.... she will grow into it. 

I bought the fanny pack because my old purse is falling apart. And I bought the fanny pack because I'm not quite sure who I am right now. I could have bought another normal purse but my season of life is about to change and I thought my purse choice should reflect that change. A mother that needs to carry pampers, sippy cups, snacks, and the kitchen sink would never choose a fanny pack. But a fanny pack is perfect for a mother that just sent her baby to kindergarten and is meeting a friend for coffee. For eight year, there has been a small hand to hold in the parking lot. There has been constant chatter in the house. There has been a thousand, beautiful interruptions to everything I do. On Monday, all of that will change. It will just be me and my fanny pack. But it's okay.... I'll grow into it.