Ladies Weekend in SLO
Meeting at Janis' House
Let's Get Potted!
Los Padres' Golf
Coffee in the Garden
RSVP by May 24: Dee
50 is Nifty Party
What: Let's Get Potted
When: Thursday, May 16, 7:15pm
Where: Janis' House
A few months ago, when I was picking up the children
at school, another mother I knew well rushed up to me.
Emily was fuming with indignation. "Do you know what
you and I are?" she demanded.
Before I could answer, and I didn't really
have one handy, she blurted out the reason for her question.
It seemed she had just returned from renewing her driver's
license at the County Clerk's office. Asked by the woman
Clerk to state her occupation.
Emily had hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
What I mean is, "explained the recorder,
"Do you have a job, or are you just a .....?"
Of course I have a job," snapped Emily. "I'm a mother."
"We don't list 'mother' as an occupation...'housewife'
covers it," said the recorder emphatically. I forgot
all about her story until one day I found myself in
the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,
efficient, and possessed of a high-sounding title like
official Interrogator or Town Registrar.
And what is your occupation?" she probed. What made me say
it, I do not know. The words simply popped out.
"I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development
and Human Relations."
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair,
and looked up as though she had not heard right.
I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most
significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my
pompous pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the
"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what
you do in your field?"
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I
heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of
research (what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and
in the field (normally I would have said indoors and
out). I'm working for my Masters (the whole darned
family) and already have four credits." (all daughters).
"Of course, the job is one of the most
demanding in the humanities (any other care to
disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day (24 is more
like it). But the job is more challenging than most
run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are in
satisfaction rather than just money."
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's
voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally
ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new
career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model (6 months)
in the child-development program, testing out
a new vocal pattern. I felt triumphant! I had scored a
beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official
records as someone more distinguished and
indispensable to mankind than "just another mother."
Motherhood...what a glorious career. Especially when
there's a title on the door.
The Images of Mother:
4 YEARS OF AGE ~ My Mommy can do anything!
8 YEARS OF AGE ~ My Mom knows a lot! A whole lot!
12 YEARS OF AGE ~ My Mother doesn't really know quite everything.
14 YEARS OF AGE ~ Naturally, Mother doesn't know that, either
16 YEARS OF AGE ~ Mother? She's hopelessly old-fashioned.
18 YEARS OF AGE ~ That old woman? She's way out of date!
25 YEARS OF AGE ~ Well, she might know a little bit about it
35 YEARS OF AGE ~ Before we decide, let's get Mom's opinion.
45 YEARS OF AGE ~ Wonder what Mom would have thought about it?
65 YEARS OF AGE ~ Wish I could talk it over with Mom.
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