The Diaper Bag For The Mom Of Teenage Boys


Back in the ’90s, Janet Jackson warned us all about the nastiness of boys, but even she couldn’t prepare me for the sheer grossness of being the mother of teenage boys.

When the youngest baby was potty trained (and before we knew we were expecting surprise baby #8) I thought I was done with diaper bags. They were all more or less able to take care of themselves, I thought.
I was wrong.
I’m back to carrying a big purse, and enough toiletries to clean a small country, or two teenage boys

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I’m the 40-something-ish wife of my beloved Computer Guy. I’m the adoring and incredibly proud mom of nine children…two saints…seven in training. I’m my brothers’ sister and my parents’ daughter. I’m a devout Catholic, an avid political junkie, able debater, aspiring home-maker, amazing friend, and I make the meanest Chicken Fried Steak you’ll ever have the pleasure of eating. I’m a homeschooling guru, a writing addict, a sometimes public-speaker, and an advocate for staying true to the person God created you to be. I can’t live in a house with white walls, sing Billy Joel songs while I wash the dishes, will read anything you put in my hands, and am completely obsessed with rhinestones and cute shoes. I am just like moms the whole world over, and then some.