Working Mothers All

(Originally posted June 10, 2009, Wisconsin State Journal)

To work or not to work: That is a question some of us parents struggle with on more than one level. During this season of our family life, I am not working outside the home. Like many families, our finances are tight. Our retirement accounts are thin. Our cars are well-used. Although we eat well and live a luxurious life compared to three-quarters of the world, by American standards we could be considered "working class," because I am not earning a salary.

But I am a working mother: I have never worked so hard in my life. Not only that, I have never struggled so hard for a sense of identity as I have during this season of parenting young children.

Ever since I left my "career" and took on the job of mothering two daughters, I have experienced a sort of identity crisis. Prior to parenting, I had some rather impressive-sounding answers to the question "So, what do you do for a living?" In fact, "DOING" was a big part of my identity. I could say "I direct such and such a program." I could add that I had a graduate degree and then (pridefully) spout five-syllable words to prove it. But all that changed when I left the professional realm to work as a parent.

I don't think my identity crisis is unique; many women (and men) take breaks from their professions to parent young children. Not uncommonly, it's the high cost of child-care that lead either one or two parents to stay at home full- or part-time. There are, however, risks implicit in the choice to be a stay-at-home parent.

Will we lose out on future job opportunities? Will our resumes look outdated, our skill sets weak? The future unknowns can, in fact, weigh us stay-at-homers down and be a source of near-invisible stress.

The personal identity issues caught me by surprise. I thought I would love be a stay-at-home parent. After all, I had put a lot of time and energy into the adoption processes that finally brought our kids home. But parenting can be dull, I found, and I am not a particularly skilled homemaker. It does not come naturally to me to "play" with my kids. In fact, my workaholic past had led me to forget how to play; my kids have had to re-teach me the joy of being silly. And let's face it, cleaning the toilet and wiping running noses are not highly prized skills in our society. The ego doesn't get fed much by scraping oatmeal off a crusty bowl.

So lately I've wondered if coming to peace with these parts of staying at home-- the reframing of professional expectations and the way I value myself--isn't part of my personal growth.

I struggle with self-centeredness every day. I struggle to satisfy my personal desires, even as I work to be a conscientious parent. "The world is not all about ME," I remind myself, just as I remind my kids when they're being obstinate. It's not all about my goals, my accomplishments, my expectations. The reality is that my SELF is now a minor actor in life's larger play. My family has become a stage of sorts. As a parent, I now play a critical role in SOMEONE ELSE'S life and development. It is humbling to not be the most important figure in my own personal drama.

So when people ask me "What do you DO?," I'm trying to be more honest about the way I answer: because my choice, while deliberately made, has also been difficult and not always personally rewarding. My answer might go something like this: I'm in constant on-the-job training with two youngsters who delight, exasperate, and teach me daily about life's challenges and joys. Together we are trying to learn how to live by the Golden Rule, to treat people with love, to live with integrity and show respect for ourselves and others. Our family relationship gives us the means of learning and living out these principles together. Hopefully, in the process, my children will become conscientious scholars, citizens, workers and parents.

My hope is that my work (and my husband's, too) will result in our kids growing into the type of people I'll want to hang around with in my old age. Maybe they'll also want to hang around with me. Between now and that time, my children will see me doing all sorts of work. Across the years, I hope we will grow together to share the wealth that ultimately lasts -- mutual respect, contentment, and love.