To the working mothers out there: I have had the slightest, smallest glimpse of what you all do, and you have my utmost respect.
I have had my so-called job for two months. It is the most flexible job ever; it is tailor-made for me and where I am in life, and I love it. I mean I actually love it, in a way that I never thought I would want or enjoy a job. I learn something every day--it is making me a connoisseur of antiques and a better shopper in general--what's not to love? I don't want to work all day, or every day--I still want the time to go to the grocery store, or a yoga class, and to take my children to and from school--those things are important to me. But, honestly, it's nice to have somewhere to go on some days, when my children are at school, where I get to do something interesting that I love. I realize I am so incredibly lucky to have the freedom and opportunity to do something that I truly love, and co-workers who totally understand that I need balance and are glad to have me on board in whatever capacity that works for me. They are the coolest people I have ever worked with, and I'm doing the most interesting work I have ever done--I wish this had been my job pre-children, because I would love to throw myself into it in a way that I just can't right now.
That said, I have mommy guilt over loving it. It's a little bit of an identity crisis for me, to love a job. I feel like a big part of my identity is being a stay-at-home mother, and devoting everything to my children. I have loved doing that, but, honestly, it gets a little bit monotonous, and this gives me a really interesting sense of purpose. But when I get home, I feel bad about leaving it. And when I'm there, I feel bad about neglecting my duties at home. And I don't really know what to call myself. Am I a stay-at-home mother, still? I don't feel that I exactly have the street cred to call myself a "working mother." I feel overwhelmed sometimes, and I look at other people who do A LOT more than I do, and see that they're making it work. And then I look at stay-at-home moms, and I ask myself if I should be doing that, and be happy about it. It really is an exercise in not comparing myself to other people, but figuring out a balance between what I want to do and my responsibilities (to the job and to my family)--a balance that makes me happy and works for my family. And thinking about that is probably good for me, because it doesn't matter what everyone else is doing--I know that in my head, but it's hard to put into practice when everybody is doing something different and they all seem to have it together. I don't know what to call myself or what to say when people ask me what I do, but figuring that out is helping me grow as a person.
Anyway, this is a big transition for me and I have a lot of feelings about it: mostly love for the job and guilt over loving the job. It makes me feel good to be around people who are supportive, who ask me questions about it and I can convey just how interesting it is and how much I love it. But my MIL is completely annoying about it. I'm not sure why she thinks I'm doing this, but she doesn't appreciate antiques, so she can't really understand why I enjoy it. When she talks about it to me, she reduces it to a paycheck. She's always saying stuff like, "That one sale looked really good, but did you have to work on that bad one? That one looks like it has a lot of junk in it." And it's true--some sales are better than others. But I still learn something in each and every one, and calling it "junk" just seems to undermine me and the whole process somehow. (Maybe it bothers me that she doesn't have the good taste to know a piece of junk from a treasure, so when she calls it all junk it just rubs me the wrong way). She actually said recently, "Did you get your first paycheck? Were you pleased with it?" I mean WHO asks someone if they are PLEASED with their paycheck? Would it ever occur to any of you to ask someone if they were pleased with their paycheck? That is a tacky (and demeaning) question, and it makes me totally uncomfortable. It makes me shut down completely. It's a rude question and there is no polite answer for it.
I know she just doesn't understand me, or my motivations, or my job, or my interests, but I can't help being offended by her rudeness. And it also plays into my all my insecurities about what this job means to my family and my identity as a working/stay-at-home mother, or whatever combination of that I am now. I don't know what I am, but I am figuring it out every day, and enjoying it as I go. And my paycheck is none of her damn business.
