You know, sometimes things happen that just make you think....maybe I should start a blog. I’ve heard it’s cathartic, so why not? What major event constituted this change? I had just finished an almost 4 hour session of PTO president activity that ate up my whole morning of other planned activities and I realized since taking on this new role in my very active career as PTO mom that this is a daily occurrence and I thought it....educational. What do I mean by that, you ask? Simply that it brings me one step closer to understanding my 1950′s housewife foremothers. That I see what they went through as “Just Mom’s”. These women always portrayed as useless bots with no thoughts in their heads past tonight’s meatloaf and driving little Suzy to cheer practice.
To give you a little background on my life as a professional parent, I started with humble beginnings. A too young, too poor, kinda stupidly in love couple that had no idea what they were doing, starting a family. Shortly after our first child was born, my husband was “downsized” with many others at his dead end factory job. He applied for a mail carrier position, and somehow got suckered into joining the Navy. We realized early on that me working was a pointless endeavor as I had no college education or life skillset that could create the amount of pay that would make a profit past covering daycare costs. The benefits of me being a housewife/mom (i.e. cheap and healthy homemade meals, clean home, bills paid on time, errands ran, children safely cared for and educated, always being able to take care of...well...everything that was not literally going to a job and coming home), would be a huge help to my husband and our child. I learned how to cook and cook well (I literally burned water in the first year of our marriage, I didn’t know that was possible), I learned how to budget our finances and manage bills, I learned basic home maintenance, I learned child care, I learned a lot in those first few years. Our second child came along when our eldest was almost 3. In the years following I dealt with many snide comments from family, friends, and strangers about my perceived laziness and uselessness. I realized that according to most of the outside world, I didn’t exist. I couldn’t get a loan or credit card, couldn’t make decisions about money without my husbands approval (the banks decision, not my hubby’s), and most people didn’t take me seriously. I was told I was a sellout by my feminist friends. Even my husband felt the societal pressure by his peers and family, being told I was using him as a meal ticket.
Over the many years of our lives together, my husband has built a career in electrical and mechanical engineering. He has a good job and provides well for his family. He always supported me and helped me follow any interests I had. I went back to school at 30 to get a design degree. Still momming, I have used that degree in many ventures from owning my own accessory business, to being a photography stager, to a costumer, and now as a body artist. Through all of that, I never had what people considered a “real job”. I was always a freelancer or had my own businesses. I don’t go to a 9-5 job for someone else. I have a flexible schedule. I have used that to be very involved in my children’s school.
So here I am, almost 40, I have amazing, happy, well-adjusted kids, I love my job, I still adore my husband of 17 years, I have amazing friends and family relationships, and I regularly volunteer for my kid’s school, and various other events in my community. BUT GUESS WHAT? I’m still “just a mom”. I still have people who think I have no life and no responsibilities and that I sit on my butt all day, eating bon-bons, watching T.V. I know there are a lot of others out there, mothers and fathers, who share my irritation. Who know that society has built a false idea of what a parent *should* be. I know your struggles, I see you. You are so important. You are the pillar of strength for your family. You are the only reason they get through their daily lives as smooth as butter. You are the comfort in their storms, the voice of reason, the push they need and the shoulder to cry on. You are their world. Never forget that.
