The Dreaded Backpack

I have discovered a new black hole. I know it seems hard to believe, but it has been in my house for some time, and I never noticed it. My daughters Backpack.

I have noticed it being a little odoriferous lately, but I wrote it off to mud puddles and that gross winter school smell ...you know the one, of peculiar cafeteria meat product, wet boots and kids that don't shower regularly? I will admit to mine being one of the delinquent bathers but seriously, who wants that battle? I write it off as our water conservation methods.

THEN the other day I was forced to retrieve something from the dreaded backpack. Now I am concerned that a missing cat from down the road might be nesting in there or something. It was nasty. And if her backpack is any indication of future pocketbook storage, she is going to be in for some serious chiropractic bills.

I found shoes, lip gloss, papers, crayons, stuffed animals, books, barbies, tissues (which I used tongs to dispose of because it was very unclear whether they were used or not.) There were a few unidentified things too, that may have been petrified art projects...or lunch... or friends she brought home to play, I am not sure, but they got trashed too, and if a parent calls looking for someone, I am just playing innocent.


Somewhere between the rolled up papers, the still wet, smelly mittens, and the unidentified sticky stuff on the inside of her bag, I simply just got too scared to continue. I am not sure all that has been lost to that backpack, but I am waiting for it to grow legs and start attacking family members.

I do realize that this is probably another indication of my Wicked Awesome Parenting skills. I realize that there are those of you shaking your head as you read this, because you regularly wash out the back pack and clean the kids and stuff...well...sorry. I feel pretty good when I wash their jackets. And that is usually only when we are out and I get the real pity looks from people as though they believe that we have just crawled out from under a bridge to go shopping for some more duct tape to repair our beds.

I am sure however, that my mother will read this and laugh at me, because I am pretty sure that my backpacks were the same way... I did not receive the title of "pack rat" for no reason at all and perhaps that is where our family pets and friends came from, they too got sucked into the black hole of my backpack as a kid....BUT COME ON, DOES KARMA ALWAYS HAVE TO WIN???????

I finished "Every Mother is a Daughter"

I am not trying to copy Leila* here (no worries Leila, I couldn't hold a candle!) but I figured instead of spending all my time being sarcastic, I will add a little something about things I have read etc... You know, so you all think I have some semblance of intelligence!

I finished listening to Every Mother is a Daughter , (yes, I do listen to books around the house or in my car...it is NOT a cop out...it is a busy moms way of staying involved in literature...so says I! But in my defense, I still read some too, it just takes a long time.)

I would love to have something sarcastic to say about this book, but I don't. Being 35 and lucky enough to have a 92 year old grandmother to take care of, also being lucky enough to have a mom, (who would kick my butt if I said how old she is on here,) and the great fortune of having two lovely daughters, I devoured this book whole heartedly. Not always identifying with one character over another, but with little bits of both of them as they wove their way through writing this book.

It lead me to wonder about what my mother would write about me, of who I am. Or what we would have to write about if we were to write a book together. It made me look at my daughter and realize that she is going to grow up and at some point have to take care of me, and what would she say about that? What would be her memories of my strengths and weaknesses be? What observations would she make about my life, that I would have never seen as having impact?

Perri Klass, and Sheila Solomon Klass, the mother and daughter that wrote this book are both, obviously, writers, and both have lived extraordinary lives, of travel, adventure, and humor. Lives truly rich in academia, which led me to realize the opulence of my own childhood. Not in monetary wealth, but a life that was steeped in educational pursuits, travel and the desire of my parents to open my eyes and take in the world around me and all that it has to offer.

So no snark here today, if you are a mom, or a daughter, it is worth a read. Take a minute like I did, to laugh at the idiosyncrasies of people, the dysfunction of all our families, and swell with the emotion of it all. In the end, those links and bonds that we build with our families and pass on to the following generations, are our mark on this world. They are our legacy, and they are precious.


* Leila is a friend I work with at the library, who is Uber smart, (to use one of her words,) reads like, 400 books a day, and then writes an incredible blog about them. In comparison on the book front, I am the kid in the back row stretching my bubble gum out to see how far it will go and getting it stuck all over my fingers... But she never makes me feel that way, so I love her anyway!]