A Working Mother

Defining Who We Are, By What We Do

By Sandra Giordano

We live in a society where careers define who we are.

My husband and I were recently invited to attend a formal dinner affair. This was my night out without the kids in a long time and I welcomed the change. "Tonight, I am looking forward to trading cookies and milk for cocktails and cheese, and to engage in a stimulating intellectual conversation." I thought to myself as I arranged my dress on the bed and searched my closet for suitable shoes.

"Mommy, wear this long pink dress!" chimed Christina as she bounced me back to the present moment while hopping around in a layer of fleece.

"I can't wear that."

"Why not?" she asked sincerely. "It's beautiful and so soft. You'll be comfy Mommy."

"Christina, that's a housecoat. I can't wear that to a dinner party. I'll look silly."

"No, you won't," she insisted.

"Never mind," I responded, not wanting to get into a debate with her then and there regarding the appropriateness of fashions.

"Come on. Sit on Mommy's bed and watch cartoons with Joey," I said as I scooped my little son up and away from the closet floor, which was now littered with a mismatched array of shoes. Closing the door to the closet, I then jumped into the shower and was out in marathon time, only to find Christina and Joey playing tug-o-war with my pantyhose.

"Stop pulling my stockings! They're the only nice pair I have with no runs," I said sternly while prying the stockings from them.

"Who runs Mommy?" asked Christina with innocent curiosity.

"Never mind." I put on my stockings and zipped up my dress holding my breath in the hopes I could suck in a few extra pounds.

Trying to get dressed with two kids all over me was exasperating. I felt like Sisyphus. No sooner did I manage to get halfway done, when one of my children set me back two more steps. As I went to look for my shoes, I turned around to see Joey clomping down the hall like a little pony with my shoes on. I managed to convince Joey to give me back my shoes and finished getting myself together with some sanity still left. Just before leaving, I took a quick look in the mirror "Motherhood makes me look tired," I thought aloud.

"You look nice, Mommy," said Christina who had been watching me.

"Thanks, honey. You be good tonight okay."

"Okay!" She said energetically and then gave me a big hug.

Seeing this, Joey climbed off the bed and came running towards me saying: "Mama- me! me!"

"What is it Joey," I asked.

"Mama hug."

"Of course, Joey," I said as I wrapped my arms around him.

"Mama, luv ya."

"I love you too sweetie. Now both of you let's go to Grandma's"

When we got to the dinner, we were seated with three other couples. Not being the gregarious type, I let someone else lead the conversation. It seemed tonight's focus was on careers.

The man seated to my right was a lawyer. He bragged about a big case he had recently won to another lawyer seated next to him. His wife, who worked for a major marketing firm, was discussing the dilemmas involved in a corporate merger that was expected to occur within her company. She was talking to a very polished and well-dressed woman who appeared to be about my age. I wondered what she did as she hadn't spoken much about herself yet.

An hour into dinner, I had just about had my fill of food and conversation. I was beginning to miss the kids. Observing everyone in conversation, I decided to join in the dialogue. I finally drummed up enough confidence to make small talk with the pretty sophisticated woman. Our conversation began with the basics initially discussing the weather and other trivialities. Soon, I found myself listening to this woman's professional status as a leading lady in an expansive engineering firm. She made it a point to divulge and define how she had managed to break into a field that was noted for being a "man's business." She spoke very articulately and she looked flawless and undaunted; very much like those pretty women in career women's catalogs.

Sitting next to her, I felt a little intimidated and foolish. I suddenly became very conscious of the run in my stocking which seemed to have run down my ankle by now, and my unadorned basic black dress looked so plain next to her satin and sequined two piece silk suit. My dress felt even tighter now and itchy too. I was almost wishing I could be back on the couch snuggled beside my kids in the pink housecoat Christina had recommended I wear. I imagined the kids right about now sitting on the family room sofa watching the Wiggles with our Poochie curled between them sneaking chocolate chip cookie crumbs. And, here I was wearing a dress plastered to my body in a large, cold room.

The stylish career woman went on discussing how busily packed her day usually was, beginning with a mention of her daily half hour traffic-logged commute into the city and ending it with an exaggerated emphasis about how some days she worked for 12 hours straight breaking only for coffee occasionally. I thought about my days. I wondered if she knew anything about working the "24/7 unpaid mother shift," that allowed for only occasional and brief 10-second bathroom breaks. And then, I thought about the half hour it took each morning to convince my kids to turn off the faucet and remove themselves out of the bathroom after they had slurped and sucked down water and toothpaste.

A stifled silence followed as the woman finished speaking. I guess she expected me to continue the conversation, but I didn't have anything to contribute that could match her lucrative lifestyle. Breaking the collecting silence, quite decisively and bluntly she asked me: "So, what do you do?"

I was thinking about Christina and Joey and remembering how I would have been reading our favorite bedtime story Are You My Mother? by Dr. Seuss right about now.

"What do you do?" She asked me again after I failed to respond within the socially acceptable wait time allotted for a reply.

"Oh, me?" I hesitated a moment before responding. "I'm a mother."

"I beg your pardon," she said looking at me directly. "Do you work?"

"Why, yes of course!" I said with a sense of certainty. And this time I smiled confidently as I looked her squarely in the face and said proudly: " I work full time as a mommy for my children."

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Copyright 2004 Sandra Giordano

Sandra Giordano holds an MA in Creative Writing. Her work has been published in parenting publications and she is a freelance writer of educational materials. Currently, Sandra continues to work at her most rewarding job which she says is "being a mommy to her children."