Diaper Bag Dilemma

I'm sure she's a really great mom. But there's not actually a kid in that stroller. She's at home with the au pair.

I didn't think this would be so difficult.

I've been browsing the web for weeks, trying to find potential diaper bags to replace the ones I've completely worn out or rejected. I've narrowed my search to diaper bag backpacks, for pretty much one reason: any other diaper bag (including the freebie sling I use all the time and otherwise think is terrific -- and NOT just because it was free! Okay, that's a big part of it), including messenger bags and one- or two-strapped totes, manages to end up swinging gaily around my torso when I bend over to tend to my sons. No, I haven't actually tried every messenger or tote out there. But my trusty, practical purses, which sometimes double as quickie diaper catch-alls (one diaper, mini-pack of wipes, travel tube of cream, one set of toddler underwear), always manage to get in my way at the most inconvenient times. So in short, I want my arms free without any interference from a bag. Kapish?

My search for the bag, however, has hit an existential snag. I've recovered from price-tag shock ($90 and up, lots of up, for most backpacks). I've even resigned myself to limited options (most diaper bags are totes, not backpacks). What I can't wrap my brain around is the complete dichotomy in backpack choices. There's ultimately two choices:

1. The fashion-savvy mom's uber-chic satchel that she only uses to run to the corner market while paparazzi click away from across the street. Words like "nappies" and "organic" typically appear in the product description, which is dwarfed by the length of the "options" list, which includes patterns like "zebra," "uptown stripe," "sunset dragon roll," and the ever-present "Pink" (because otherwise no one will know you're a woman).


Petunia Pickle Bottom Boxy Diaper Bag Moment in Morocco. The first part is the brand name; the last is the pattern. I kid you not.

I'm probably just incredibly sheltered. I mean, we live in Prarieland, Midwest, where the closest baby items to be found appear in the linoleumed aisles of Pamida. But despite my attraction to pretty patterns, vivid colors, and eco-friendly language, it can't overcome the truth: the bags are too small or too flimsy or too un-child-friendly (did you see the silver hardware on that thing? Brilliant. Toddler tugs + sharp edges = ... do they need new consumer product evaluators?) or too easily trashed (cream canvas? That'll look nice for about two seconds, even if your kids aren't the marker-wielding types. I mean, will you use it in public?) for most moms to actually, you know, USE. So thanks, cutesy-named companies, for thinking I'm dumb enough to shell out big bucks for a diaper holder that would last me one-thousandth as long as a non-biodegradable, indestructible plastic bag from Walmart. Just because it's pretty. Enjoy that option, Natalie Portman; let me know how long it takes you to cycle through all 117 styles.

2. The hiking parent's tundra tote. You know, the one that could last you through a few summit-reaching treks up Kilimanjaro. And a few months being dragged through desert sands and mountain mud behind an Army jeep. While being attacked by pit bulls. And along with this kind of toughness comes the downside: I'm not a man. For yes, for every one new-mom, ex-winner of the Mr. Olympia Women's Competition , there's ten thousand Diaper Dudes. And I think it's great that dads are so into fatherhood. Really. But that they're into it so much that they want their own diaper bags?



My choice of camo, brown-black, or machete. I just don't think this is for me. *Sigh.*

There you have it: my dilemma. So when you see me with an Eddie Bauer backpack in a few months, you'll know why I've added hot-pink stripes. So you'll know I'm a woman. Who can scale mountains with children in tow.