Suitcase Ratio

My father always said if you want to get to know what a person is really like, visit his/her bathroom. Bathrooms aside, what about a suitcase and its contents?

My suitcase has really evolved. In my pre-Z-era, my suitcase was naturally all about me. It would be stuffed to the brim all higgeldy-piggledy with my clothes, shoes, and accessories. I’d never know when I’d need a certain accessory, so the more accessories, the merrier I’d be. Needless to say, a lot of my packed items would go unused. A lot of my packing would be done last minute, and pretty messily too.

I would try to hide the fact that the contents would look bad by jazzing up my suitcase with ribbon or even a doodly label.

My suitcase is now somewhat, emphasis on somewhat, more organized. Neater. I pack 2-3 days in advance. The reason…Z.

Looking at my suitcase makes me feel like a mother. Majorly. On a trip we took this week to visit Z’s grandparents, my suitcase had piles of neatly folded baby clothes, rolled up baby stockings, baby shoes velcroed together,  baby food jars to mix with a box of baby oatmeal. Apparently, babies need accessories too. Tiny glittery hairbows (Z will pull these out of her Dora-like-hair in a minute) and big floppy hairbows (this will be out of her hair in a few seconds) were clasped onto the suitcase inner pocket.

Originally, I even packed a toilet seat. It’s not just any toilet seat. It’s the Baby Bjorn toilet seat, which doesn’t jiggle or joggle when a restless toddler sits on it.  Luckily, Z’s grandparents purchased a toilet seat, so the toilet seat stayed behind.

Inside the suitcase also went a pair of baby checkered Oxford shoes with pink rubber soles and a furry mini leopard vest that Z gets compliments in. Both I would totally wear if it were in my size, but alas they’re not in adult sizes. I love the ease of putting the vest on and off. Quick and stylish warmth.

Such tiny things one may think. Oh-so-deceiving. The little shoes add up and make a big pile. Then the baby clothes add up. You never know when Z is going to forget that she’s potty trained, or pour water on herself (this has happened on a plane. It involved breaking a glass to do this. My husband got upgraded which meant we got upgraded to first class. First Class meant drinking out of a real glass that the flight attendant put in between me and husband (why??!), and Z couldn’t help herself and knocked it over, wetting herself and the floor). Basically Z must have a backup outfit for her main outfit, and then a backup outfit for her backup outfit.

And then some toys.

And some story books.

And before you know it, the suitcase is crammed with her stuff, which only leaves a little space for me. (What happened to having a 50:50 ratio?)

No fair.