Sweet Yet Sour

No More Rat Race

Tuesday, June 17th, 2008 | The Daily Special | 5 Comments

As of May 27th, I officially became an unemployed stay at home mom.

When Mike and I talked about having kids, we discussed that I would probably stay at home, so it’s not a total shocker, but it’s a little upsetting nonetheless.

I grew up in the 1970’s with a stay at home mom (at least until I was in fourth grade) who is a feminist. We listened repeatedly to “Free to Be You and Me”, a kids album that had feminist and equality undertones. It has songs on it like “It’s Alright to Cry” sung by a football player (Rosie Grier), a song about sharing housework between mommy and daddy, a song about a boy who likes dolls and the title song of “Free to Be You and Me”. (It’s available on ITunes if you want to check it out.)

My mom really wanted us to go to college, have careers and never really pushed the “I want grandkids” theme with my sister and I.

As a result, my sister and I grew up with very few ideas about what we could and could not do, but were really given free reign to decide what we wanted to be when we grew up.

We also grew up as two women who need verbal affirmation. Once I found a job I was good at, I thrived at working hard and getting praise for my work. This was no exception at my last job, where I really felt like I was the best person in my department, and I knew from my reviews that I was a valued employee.

It was clearly evident that my office wanted me back from my maternity leave as soon as possible; they kept calling to check on me and ask me questions on things that they needed my help with in the software. So I was confident that I could negotiate with them on working from home part time. I envisioned starting back slowly, only a few hours a week when Anna reached 3 months old, and then cranking up to 20 hours a week – all of it from home.

I just don’t want to leave Anna. I don’t want to leave her with other people and I don’t want to miss all of the new things that she learns and does every day.

But I also don’t want to go out of my tree being stuck at home all the time. I need to use my brain and get told that I am valued. Parenting is not a job where I get verbal affirmation; Anna never says, “Good job on the diaper mom!”, or “Thanks for getting up at 3 a.m. with me – I really appreciate your efforts.”

So working part time from home would have been ideal; I don’t have to leave Anna, but I still get to work, get some praise and earn a little money.

Too bad my employer wanted someone full time or nothing. So I had to give my notice, pack up my cubical and become voluntarily unemployed for the first time in my life. It was a sad moment for me.

It’s not that I don’t love Anna; I do tremendously, but right now parenting is a 24 hour, 7 day a week job where I rarely get told that I am doing a good job. In general, I feel ignored when we see friends and family.

Visits with people go like this: Friends/family say hello to me (sometimes), then focus on the baby, then pick her up and hold her and generally spend the entire conversation asking about her or just talking directly to her. It’s pretty rare that Mike or I get asked how we are doing if we have Anna in tow. Try as I might, I can derive very little self confidence from being treated like the Empresses’ chair carrier.

For thousands of years women have been treated like this so I know I shouldn’t complain, but I was lucky enough to have a place outside of my home where I knew absolutely that I was an important person. It’s hard to give that up and not cry. I did cry actually, a fair amount, when I realized I would have to quit my job.

I have a new job now. My new boss looks like this:

In contrast to my old job, my new boss looks at my boobs all the time.  Which is okay, since my new job is at least 80% about my new boss getting what she wants from my boobs.  The other 20% of the job is me figuring out new things for my boss to look at and play with besides my boobs.  Sometimes these distraction techniques don’t work, and I have to resort back to the boobs.  It’s completely different from my old job…

In the end, I realize that I am VERY lucky that I have the choice at all to stay at home with Anna.  Some women have to go back to work, and it must be heartbreaking to leave your child and miss them terribly.  (An example of how unfriendly my former employer was to working moms – the moms who needed to breast pump while at work could only do so in the IT server closet, the only room in the office with no windows – nice!)

At least I can stay at home, watch Anna grow and play and know that my new boss, when she’s in her twenties or thirties, might finally say, “Thanks.”  And perhaps by then, that will be all the reward I will need.