I love my family, but there are some days when I cannot wait to
go to work.
Let’s face it — as a mom of three girls ages 11 to 17, it’s
easier to be at work than at home. At work my days can be measured
with specific results: you’re holding it in your hands.
They don’t print a daily newspaper about mom’s accomplishments
from the previous day. “Extra, extra, read all about it: Mom makes
dinner!” wouldn’t sell papers.
At my job, I get paid — by the hour — to ask people nosy
questions. I could close my eyes for one minute and get paid for
it! Not that my boss wants to pay me for sleeping on the job, but a
mom certainly does not get paid if she closes her eyes at home. If
a mom closes her eyes at home for more than five minutes, there’s
no telling what she might find when she opens them.
When I’m at work, I’m writing about someone else’s drama. It has
nothing to do with me and best of all, I’m not responsible for
fixing any of it. It’s so refreshing.
When I sit down at my desk in the morning, everything is exactly
where I left it the night before. I don’t need to track down my
scissors, my tape or my calculator. No one has changed my computer
screensaver, cluttered up my desktop with ambiguously named
homework assignments or left the mouse sticky from some
late-afternoon snack.
I can eat my lunch without someone sharing her opinion of what
I’ve made for dinner, complaining about something her sister did,
or listening to SpongeBob Squarepants in the background.
When I’m at work, I’m not refereeing arguments between three
adolescents. (Some news story subjects may be acting like
adolescents, but that’s another column.) I don’t have to break up
fights. I just have to report on them.
I love getting lost in my job, moving quickly from one story to
the next. When I do get a personal call in the middle of the day, I
sometimes get confused for a split second. Who is this kid calling
me and asking about a lunchbox she forgot at home? Oh yeah, now I
remember.
My coworkers don’t have temper tantrums at their desks, they
don’t stomp their feet when they don’t get their way, and they
don’t slam their office doors shut. They may want to, but they can
control themselves. That’s why they are called grown-ups.
Do I sound a little cranky? I probably am. A mother doesn’t get
much time off. There are no paid 15-minute breaks. We don’t accrue
sick time, holiday or vacation pay. A mom is always on the clock.
You don’t punch in or out.
It’s like working at the fire department — you’re on call 24/7
but the shift never ends.
Last year I received a crystal paperweight in recognition of a
job well done at work. As we moms know, there are no crystal
paperweights presented at home. Motherhood doesn’t have performance
reviews, promotions or pats on the back from the boss.
Actually, I take it back. There is one kind of promotion we moms
are eligible for.
Grandmotherhood.
