Being a Mom isn't my job.
I don't get paid to be a Mom.
I don't get bathroom breaks. I usually end up with an audience, and a loud one at that.
I don't have a lunch time. I can't just leave the kids with a box of Kraft Dinner at noon and say "Have at it. I'll see you at 1!"
I don't get vacation time as a Mom. Some of the happiest memories I have are of family vacations, but I was still a Mom during those weeks.
There is little chance I will get promoted, unless I'm up for Queen Mom and haven't been told yet. (But how cool would that be?)
My day doesn't end at 5pm or even 8pm or 11pm. It's 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's frantic and busy, but fantastic.
There is no Christmas party, yearly bonus, pay raise or company picnic.
I'm the social director, chef, referee, seamstress, drycleaner, chauffeur and much more to a board of directors of four. They're demanding and whiney and loud, but they love me more than anyone else in the whole world. They zap me of my energy and sometimes, my will to go on - and I'm not meaning that to be glib*. Sometimes I really do want to throw my hands up and say "Fine. You win. I'm done and I'm going home to live with my Mommy!" Knowing all that, this work I'm doing is not only the hardest, but the most rewarding. Haven't I said this before? Haven't we all said that before? You all know that, right? Surely the whole world knows this and gives it the value it deserves?
My friends. Well, my friends are a massive part of this life. They know me. They listen to me. They laugh with me. They understand what it's like when you want to cry because your child has just barfed for the third time since midnight. They get that if you ever see another episode of Wonder Pets you just might stick an ice pick in your eye.
Last summer, we all met at the beach on a glorious summer afternoon. Our kids were slathered with sunscreen and their arms were fat with water wings. We had on wide brimmed hats, carried sandwiches and chips in our bags. We stood on the sand and watched them like only Moms can while they built sandcastles and giggled as the water tickled their toes.
During that trip, one Mom pulled out several bottles of beer and we all cracked open and poured them into glasses. One beer each. We sipped slowly, talked about our husbands, our bodies and our lives and we laughed. We laughed so hard. There were sixty days in the summer of 2005 but I will always remember that day as one of the best.
We are not babysitters. We are Moms. We aren't doing our jobs, we're living our lives. When your husband walks in from work is he starting his second job? No. He's coming home - to his life. When working Moms walk in the door it's, it's life. When an at home Mom comes back from soccer practice, it's life. No matter what your situation, your chosen path, your home life should always feel safe and inviting. Comfortable. Welcome home. Live your life. Don't let anyone else make you feel like what you are doing is inadequate or worthy of judgement. There are so many other parenting issues we should be addressing. This just isn't one of them!
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*Tom Cruise has made that word lose all relevant meaning. Shit, that sucks.
