Turns out...

...I'm a forgetful person.


I didn't know this before getting married, and although some of my forgetfulness can be blamed on being "twitterpated" (as my siblings would say), I've had to come to grips with the fact that, all excuses aside, I actually am forgetful. The only reason I've made it 26 years without knowing this about myself is because I have a mother who remembers everything, has everything and brings everything. When we used to go on singing tours Mom would pack a mammoth shower/cosmetic bag that I could've sworn held half of Walmart in it. She thought to bring the most rarely-used items, and she brought all of them every trip. I've always been an advocate of packing just enough to survive, so my makeup bag could fit in my palm and I was thankful not to have to tote a giant black bag along.


When Warren and I first got married I would tuck my cute little makeup bag in my compact suitcase and call it good. This was adequate...until I forgot our toothbrushes (which don't fit in my handheld cosmetic case). Luckily we were headed to Mom's and of course she has extras. On another weekend trip I discovered that if I don't bring chapstick I don't have chapstick. That used to be in Mom's black bag. That time we were headed to Warren's parents' and Mom J had chapstick (of course). These are only the beginning to a long list of things I've forgotten because Mom always had them...phone chargers, tweezers, deodorant, earrings, socks, gloves, lotion, razors, fingernail clippers, shoes, pillows, coats, pens, keys, kleenex and even the convenient makeup case. Two weekends ago I forgot every form of soap or shampoo.


Apparently Warren's mom went to the same school as my mom in order to attain her motherhood rights. Last weekend we went skiing with the Jennings family in Colorado and Mom J packed like my mom does. Me? I had my handful of cosmetics and a suitcase shared with Warren. We showed up in Colorado with no conditioner, no toothbrushes, no toothpaste, no hair brush and not a single barret, hair band or bobby pin. When it came time to go skiing (yes, skiing was the purpose of the trip--it was not a surprise), I had no gloves, warm socks or scarf. An enormous black bag seemed mighty appealing all of the sudden.


In less than 6 months I'll join the honorable ranks of motherhood. Our first child will probably be scarred from when I forget the diapers, binky and every scrap of clothing on the same trip. Maybe we should limit ourselves to traveling only to our parents' houses for awhile, where our mothers will have everything I forget! Or perhaps an even better option would be to give in and get myself an infamous, colossal black bag.


Now there's a revolutionary idea...