Our diaper bag, the only one we’ve ever had, hasn’t left its designated cubby in quite a few days. The kids have been out to the zoo and aquarium and school but the bag stayed there, only pulled down to grab a pack of wipes needed for runny noses this weekend.

When I thought about this I felt that bittersweet heaviness in my chest. The one that you feel when you’re happy and sad, joyful and crushed at the same time. This reminds me of how much time I’ve spent rushing through things – true to *me* I’ve spent a lot of time powering through my babies being babies instead of sitting in it with them and languishing. I choose the word languish because it suggests actively NOT pressing forward. I should have done more of that. I should have enjoyed the diaper bag, the changing the kids in the back of the car before going into a restaurant, the stress of taking them to a playground with other kids wondering if they’ll be hurt by the bigger kids, the overwhelming fear of what if they make a scene or blow out their diapers – I should have sat in all that instead of wishing us forward to a day when the diaper bag is obsolete because they outgrew it and everything it entails. I’m approaching the other side of what it entails, the bag spent another day untouched in its place.

Now, I can think of worse things than having everything they need zipped up in our trusty diaper bag. Spilled formula and change of clothes – those relatively tiny needs now fading into the background replaced by heavier and heavier things that can’t fit in a simple bag. I wish I had enjoyed it more instead of stressing and pushing to get through it. I can barely remember using that damn bag and now, I just hope we get to take her along a few more times before she’s done.

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