When my kids were little,
I couldn't believe the NERVE of some people(!)
who would make comments such as:
"Oh, you don't work; you're JUST a mother."
(to which I replied, "I most certainly DO work.")
~or~
"Is your husband babysitting?"
(NOOOOOOOO! I'm not paying him!
He's watching HIS children.")
So it is to all those stay-at-home moms,
who, I believe, have the most important job in the world,
that I dedicate this page ~
I'm Just A Mother?
A few months ago,
when I was picking up with children at school,
another mother I knew well rushed up to me.
Emily was fuming with indignation.
"Do you know what you and I are?" she demanded.
Before I could answer ~
and I didn't really have one handy ~
she blurted out the reason for her question.
It seemed she had just returned
from renewing her driver's license
at the County Clerk's office.
Asked by the woman recorder to state her "occupation",
Emily had hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
"What I mean is," explained the recorder,
"Do you have a job or are you just a. . .?"
"Of course I have a job," snapped Emily.
"I'm a mother."
"We don't list 'mother' as an occupation. . .
'housewife' covers it." said the recorded emphatically.
I forgot all about her story
until one day I found myself in the same situation,
this time at our Town Hall.
The clerk was obviously a career woman,
poised, efficient, and possessed
of a high-sounding title, like
"Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar".
"And what is your occupation?" she probed.
What made me say it, I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
"I'm. . .A Research Associate
in the field of Child Development & Human Relations."
The clerk paused, ballpoint pen frozen in midair,
and looked up as though she had not heard right.
I repeated the title slowly,
emphasizing the most significant words.
Then I stared with wonder as my pompous pronouncement
was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest,
"just what do you do in your field?"
Without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,
"I have a continuing program of research
(what mother doesn't)
in the laboratory and in the field
(normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters (the whole darned family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
"Of course the job is one of the most demanding
in the humanities (any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging
than most run-of-the-mill careers
and the rewards are in satisfaction rather than just money.
There was an increasing note of respect
in the clerk's voice as she completed the form,
stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway,
buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants ~
age 13, 7 and 3.
And upstairs,
I could hear our new experimental model (six months)
in the child-development program,
testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt triumphant.
I had scored a beat on bureaucracy.
And I had gone down on the official records
as someone more distinguished
and indispensable to mankind
than "just another. . ."
Home. . .what a glorious career.
Especially when there's a title on the door.
~ Author Unknown
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