The Packing Of The Bags.

This, more than anything else, epitomises for me what’s now called the ‘mental load’ of motherhood.

And I’m afraid it is Mums who cop for The Packing Of The Bags, more often than not.

Everyone knows that as soon as you have the baby the physical load of what you have to carry round is frankly enormous. Nappies, spare clothes, change mat, wipes, bottle, dummy, sanitisers, warming holders, spare bottle, food, food options, the one spoon they’ll actually eat from, muslins, bibs, scratch mitts, hat, toys, nappy bags, pram/buggy, umbrella, etc etc.

But it’s not the fact you have to leave the house carrying slightly more than the SAS on 3-day exercise drills that’s so draining – it’s the thinking through the day’s eventualities for each and every member of the family – day in and day out.

It is debilitatingly exhausting.

And misunderstood.

“It’s just putting a few things in a bag, what are you making such a fuss about?”

This is a direct quote, and fairly typical of the mystified reaction of, let’s face it, Dads.

I once (perhaps twice) threw all my toys out of the pram (metaphorically) and told HIM to pack the bag for a change. I was told it was harder for him as he doesn’t do it that often and easier for me because I do it all the time. WHICH IS EXACTLY THE POINT.

All. The. Time.

The minutiae of everyday, step-by-step, running through your head on a loop. Who’s got to be where by when. What they need with them. If they/you can carry it. Where the car seats are and when they can be swapped round. All of it.

It’s like constant crisis, contingency and inter-dependency planning, in your head.

And it’s NOT easy.

When you’ve got more kids you’ve got the school bag, too. **Shudder**.

Not to mention your work bag and handbag.

And no, just because it’s now the school holidays DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY EASIER.

Because now you have The Packing Of The Picnic and The Packing Of The Suitcase too – GOD HELP US ALL.

Even in regular term time, it’s not like it’s the same stuff going into The Packing Of The Bags every day.

A consistent groundhog day would actually be comparatively easy – but this really never happens.

* On a Monday it’s swimming, so pack the kit – not THAT towel the other one – and don’t forget the snack for afterwards.
* Oh, and they’re painting at nursery so there needs to be an old t-shirt in there somewhere.
* Bring £1 for sports day/wear green day/wear spots day on Tuesday.
* Might be sunny, so don’t forget hats and suncream – all labelled.
* And raincoats, because Britain.
* Small has ballet later and we might not get back to the house so need shoes and tutu in there.
* Don’t forget Baby!!!!!!
* No not that one – the other one. No, she was the favourite LAST week, apparently.
* Play date after school so there needs to be a change of clothes – Sarah’s bringing her bridesmaid dress so something like that.
* Library day – don’t forget the library bag.
* Return the X form by Y in the book bag. No, not the library one, the other one.
* The new school shoes rub a bit so put the trainers in as back-up, just in case.
* More pants for nursery, please, she came home in spares.
* Return the spares, washed.
* Homework is due. Ask other mothers what the hell it is at on the WhatsApp group and scramble to put together in the morning before school.
* Multi-sports/dancing/jazzercise club after school so another change of clothes.
* Nursery are walking to the library – don’t forget sensible shoes and permission slip.
* Bring in plastic bottles for the recycling sculpture.
* Packed lunch day, and we need to buy more jam for sandwiches. No, ham will not do.
* Nursery needs more medicine! So call Dr, call pharmacy, collect and deliver.
* Dress down day at work – bring in home baking. (LOL).
* Period – throw in sanitary towels – once wrestled as novelty play items from the children.
* No, tampons are not cat toys.
* Even if you draw a face on them.
* Big external meeting on Thursday – find ancient lipstick and bag-sized hairbrush – probably in the Barbie box.

I could go on. But you get the picture. You probably LIVE the picture.

And now your picture involves outdoor entertainment and sustenance supplies, too! JOY!

During The Packing Of The Picnic you must cater for every taste, take pains to appear relatively healthy if you’re in public, include pudding unless you want to be stung for another ice cream, a full size rug, bin bags for the debris, all of which must all pack away into a bag you can carry solo, alongside the toddler who won’t a) walk or b) buggy, and two scooters/bikes, for an unspecified distance until a suitable picnic spot is found. And back again.

Oh, and you may need kites/footballs/wet play stuff too.

Don’t even get me started on The Packing Of The Suitcase. This was a previous blog, where I take you through the process in approx 181 simple steps. Go look in my page archive. You’re welcome.

THIS is the mental load.

Right here.

Now the instinct of your average Dad, is to try and SYSTEMISE this.

Because, MEN.

But in a highly unscientific survey of Mums I Happen To Know, this systemisation is resisted, seemingly in some kind of unspoken yet instinctual last ditch feminist stand.

I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure this is what the first wave of feminists were trying to achieve…

I’ll give you an example.

“My mother,” said Dadoffthenetheredge, helpfully one day, “used to do HER washing on regular days, and plan out all the meals for the week beforehand.”

Obviously, this is just what every wife wishes to hear.

I believe this is the same conversation where I was told I was “underperforming at washing” (direct quote). I can’t imagine why we split up.

I tried to explain, to his bemusement, that I would rather DIE than live life like a 1950s housewife, with a whites wash on a Monday, coloureds on Wednesday, and fish supper every Friday.

It literally makes me want to poke my own eyes out with the one plastic spoon the baby would eat with.

So does the thought of keeping laminated lists of what everyone needs on each given day, and ticking them off one by one, as I diligently pack the bags the night before and line them up neatly at the door – presumably wiping my hands on my apron afterwards in satisfaction, setting my curlers, and possibly ironing a newspaper, for reasons no one has ever understood.

It might make life easier; it would also make it INFINITELY MORE DEPRESSING.

So here’s a radical idea. What if we didn’t systemise the mental load – what if this summer, we SHARED it?

Whoah.

Rad.

What if The Packing Of The Bags was something both parents both did – perhaps on a rota system if you really really can’t live your life without management systems?

I’m pretty sure that’s the way the SAS operate.

No man left behind:
No woman left bogged down by the unexpected but very real weight of family administration.

Until that happens, though, good luck with The Packing Of The Picnic and The Packing Of The Suitcase.

Only 6 more weeks of Summer!!!!

😉