It was easier when my oldest entered nursery. I selected three possible candidates from Amazon, and one was the clear winner. It had the perfect dimensions — not too small nor too large, sufficient to hold lunch and accommodate a few extra supplies, marked with a cheerful lion on the back. It served him well.

So a few years later, when the next was to begin school, I clicked on previous orders to buy the same bag again. But it was discontinued.

Husband and I frantically image-searched, only to find one listing on Alibaba that required a minimum order of 500. Back to square one.

This shouldn’t be complicated, I thought bravely. How hard could it be to find the right bag?

I chucked backpacks into my cart. They were all disappointing in various ways. Too small. Too big. Too neon. Too dark. Massive logo. Chest clip. Chest clip? I don’t want a chest clip making things fiddly and poky. But nearly every listing had a stupid chest clip.

What was with the dinosaurs and sharks? Nearly every boy knapsack had sharp, terrifying teeth plastered onto it. What happened to cute, fuzzy animals? Ah, those are on the pink knapsacks.

Some bags arrived folded in half, meaning the backpack had no structure. No, it needed structure. Oh, proceeds from my purchase would go to charity? Well, I’m sorry, but you should have made a bag that had a backbone.

My older boy was now entering kindergarten, and his old lion bag was ready to be retired. He needed a bag that could accommodate things like folders and Post-its and highlighters (Post-its and highlighters for kindergarten? Really?).

I figured he was ready for a mature bag, something not so cute, something a bit cooler. I opted for one in color-block teal; it was bright, cheerful, and solid, but not babyish.

Yet his bag, in comparison to the “fun” options I was ordering for his toddler brother, was a letdown. He gingerly hefted his bag, looking pointedly at the choo-choo trains, smiling fish, and merry tigers romping across the backpacks I dithered over for the baby.

I had let him down. Back to Amazon, searching for a rocket ship theme (I think he likes rocket ships. It’s a safe, non-babyish option, right? Right?).

Amazon is going to blacklist me, I panicked as I processed return after return. The bags just weren’t working. It was impossible to find a bag for the baby with the ideal 14.6″ in height — they were either 12 or 15. 12 was too small, and — I couldn’t tell you why — 15 was too big, but 14.6 was perfect.

Found it! Wait, I’m not paying THAT much for a bag.

But then it was on sale three days later, when the last batch of bags arrived and were all so wrong. So wrong.

I really didn’t have time or nerves for this. The kids’ supplies list alone required convoluted logistics. (Between Costco, Target, Walmart, Staples, and Amazing Savings, I eventually managed to get everything. What do people with seven kids do? Hire a staff? Go mad?)

But I knew what a difference the right bag makes. It makes such a difference for me. With the right bag, I feel prepared and confident. I can carry so much in a knapsack if it has room to expand. My goodness, what I’ve hauled in there. If it has the right pockets, I can put a water bottle on one side and an umbrella (always be prepared!) in the other. I’ve saved the day on more than one occasion (I carry Advil, Tylenol, and sinus meds in there) with the contents of my trusty bag.

My seminary-bound niece was telling me excitedly how she found a Kipling — Kipling! — bag in T.J. Maxx, in the right color, too, and I was awash in joy for her. The right bag will be there for her, by her side, patiently carrying her necessities and then some, a faithful companion in life’s adventures.

So I risked a mental breakdown as I hunched over the computer, muttering dementedly to myself as I peered, analyzed, and purchased. I was embarrassed to count how many bags I had bought and returned at this point. As long as the returns were processed before the credit card bill hits, I figured.

Weeks passed. School was going to start in a few days, and I still didn’t have the right bag for either my kids. Time to compromise, I dejectedly told myself.

But by the skin of its teeth, the rocket ship bag landed on the doorstep. The various candidates for baby’s bag arrived.

Big boy said flatly, “Don’t like it,” when I wrestled him into it on his first day of school. I decided not to take it personally; he was just projecting his nerves about a new school on the bag. Right? Right?

The toddler was more satisfying. He shoved away the green bag with friendly jungle animals, cooing over the blue option emblazoned with trains, planes, and automobiles. It’s a disappointing 15″, and a bit too wide….

But it’s time to stick with a bag and move on with my life.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 958)