We stood on the bridge between New Hope and Lambertville waiting for the fireworks to begin.
Annoyed with the loud sniffling sound behind me, I turned toward my son.
“You need to blow your nose,” I said.
“Do you have any tissues?” he asked.
My daughter piped in, “You know she doesn’t have any, she never does.”
In unison they exclaimed, “What kind of mother doesn’t carry tissues?”
The conversation continued and the words, “real mothers carry tissues” and “all the other moms…” were uttered out loud.
There was even the threat of travel packs as a Christmas gift. Thankfully that idea was quickly abandoned as they both realized that I still wouldn’t carry them myself, I’d hand it to one of them. I might be persuaded to put one in the glove box of the car, but that’s as far as it would go.
It’s not that I’m a bad mother; I just don’t carry Kleenex or any other brand. In my defense, I know I carried them when the kids were babies and a diaper bag went everywhere we did and I almost always have ibuprofen and chapstick in my purse, so that has to count for something, right?
I’ve never been much of a “just in case” kind of person. I’m more of an “if we need it, we’ll figure it out” kind of person.
In my experience, there’s usually another mom nearby who is happy to shake her head and come to the rescue when she overhears the conversation. As for all the other “essentials” that a “real mom” is expected to lug around like a pack mule, isn’t that what 7-11 is for?
Its a slippery slope, once you start carrying tissues, you not only risk finding soggy remains when fishing for your keys, you may be expected to carry bottles of water, band-aids, or even snacks. Who knows what that could lead to, you could end up discovering an unrecognizable bag of mold at the bottom of your purse that was once a peanut butter and jelly sandwich packed “just in case.”
What kind of mother doesn’t carry tissues?
That would be me, the fly by the seat of your pants, and according to at least one of my kids, the cool kind of mom.