I remember sitting in a junior level communications class at UMass Amherst in 1995 when one of my classmates declared that her goal was to be an MTV VJ. I was like, “say what?” I remember thinking that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard anyone say. But in retrospect I get it. When we were young we felt that anything was possible. My classmate wanted to be an MTV VJ and I wanted to go to Washington D.C. and work in politics—and I did. Because I was twenty and ambitious and fearless. When you ain’t got nothing you got nothing left to lose. And I had nothing. No mortgage, no husband, no kids, no dogs, no ties that bind, no stuff to be encumbered by, nothing. The sky was the limit. Why not me? I felt like I could be whatever I wanted to be: an actress, a rock star, a Senator, or an MTV V.J. I could do something cool, make a lot of money, rule the world.
Funny how the day dreams of youth are always sprinkled with fairy dust. Our twenty-year-old selves never seem to envision what most of our lives become. The life of a working mother is ruled by shuttling kids to—well everything and everywhere, juggling schedules—yours, the children’s, your partner’s, late nights at the office, early morning meetings, overdue date night (way, way, way overdue date night), stolen time with girlfriends, and the exhaustion. Thank God we don’t think of these things in our twenties or there is no way we’d ever allow ourselves to get knocked up. Tough to live the life of a rock star with those kind of responsibilities.
A life of a working mother sounds just awful doesn’t it? Especially when contrasted against our earlier, loftier, shinier visions of our future lives. But the weird thing is that it isn’t terrible being a working mom. In fact, all of the things that might have been cringe-worthy are now what anchors us. It is the realness of life that makes it amazing. It’s the boring nights watching T.V, with your kids and your nine-year-old falls asleep on you, it’s playing card games during family night, it’s taping your kid during his school play, it’s cheering for your kid when they score during their weekend games. It’s boring and it is awesome.
Because fairy dust doesn’t make your heart burst with pride, or bring your soul contentment, or make you feel love you never thought was possible. But we know something that does.
For laughter and inspiration read my book The Working Mommy's Manual, available on Amazon.
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