I’ve been a stay-at-home mom twice in my life. The first time was for over a year, and the second time was for two months. Both were after having my babies. And let me tell you this, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Both times I couldn’t wait to get back to work. Work away from home, that is. When I was a stay-at-home mom, I never got any rest. While at work, I could actually take a lunch break and do nothing but eat for a full ten minutes. I could also go to the bathroom without having someone outside the door, or without having to rush back to the nursery. Don’t get me wrong: I loved my babies and I valued the time I spent with them. What I’m saying is that being a stay-at-home mom is a lot of work. Not to mention the fact that these moms are doing the most important work in the world, raising the next generation. The story below illustrates that perfectly. We don’t know if this is a true story, but it’s been making the rounds and we just had to share it. Enjoy!
A woman named Emily, renewing her driver’s license at the County Clerk’s office, was asked by a recorder to state her occupation. She 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 recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall. The clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, “Official Interrogator” or “Town Registrar.”
“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 and Human Relations.”
The clerk paused, ball-point 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 pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
“Might I ask,” said the clerk with new interest, “just what you do in your field?”
Without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply. “I have a continuing program of research, in the laboratory and in the field. I’m working for my Masters, 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. But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a 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 – ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6-month-old baby), 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 on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than “just another mother.”
Motherhood. What a glorious career! Especially when there’s a title on the door. Does this make grandmothers, “Senior Research Associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations” and great grandmothers, “Executive Senior Research Associates?” I think so! I also think it makes Aunts “Associate Research Assistants.”
Source: Sunny Skyz