All Packed – How to do Travelling-Mommy Chic (yeah right!)

I used to be one of those super rigorous types who would never beep at the security scan, never had a drop of liquid nor need for those tacky plastic bags, cases were minimal and compact – raising my long-suffering eyebrow at hapless travellers in their belts-boots-coins clanging frenzies. I had no sympathy for that super irresponsible mother who deliberately let her rambunctious toddler zip around in a trolley until it eventually overturned and pounded the kid on the head. I had travel heels, travel lipstick, crease-free cocktails-to-cab outfit, and a shopping list at duty-free (Bvlgari sunglasses/Shiseido foundation/more lipstick).  Everything I needed was on my phone – for everything else there was AMEX – and I was ready to go, go, go.  But first, the pit stop for some whiskey tasting at Heathrow.

Tonight, my gigantic multi-compartmentalized carry-on backpack (gasp, faint!)demands to know if I can stuff more into it. For surely, apart from LU crackers, cheerios, organic Ella travel-spaghetti + spoon, milk powder, muslin, spare muslin, blueberries, string cheese, iPad with 10 kid apps, there will be more, more, more toddler travel must-haves. I’m the food mule, hubby the loo-supplies camel.

I’m trying to remember where the kiddie zone with giant plastic tulips and clogs are at Schiphol. Most importantly, I need to know who (plural) to sue if there is a delay.

The worst is figuring out what to wear. We are going to Canada, so the boots have to be ice-friendly. No space in the luggage for other fabulous footwear so it will also have to be versatile. Cue the new Sorel Joan-of-Arc ankle booties with SERIOUS tread. Jeans and a top of course – but the fabric has to be hardy enough to withstand Petit-Homme’s yanking and chomping. No light colours in the eventuality of spitting/throwing up (the former him, the latter me). Top has to be long enough for decency in all the contortions of chasing, bending, lifting, bowing, begging. Coat – well, the Canada Goose Mystique will is a no-go this year – just too much to schlep around to have to worry about a full length sleeping-bag wannabe.

So it’s going to be, high-waisted skinny jeans, the 6 year-old red tunic Lacoste sweater, and a short winter parka (with excessive fur trim as my only tribute to frivolity.)

As for beeping, the RoadRunner’s ready to rock and roll.

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