The Stay at Home Mom vs. The Working Mom, Part One
THE SHAPING

So, here's the first of what will become a series of posts that I've been tumbling over and over in my head, but I'm just not sure how to go about it or whether to even go there. This is such an interesting topic in our society, and I think especially in the South. It seems to be such a hotly contested topic; one that women, and even men, take strong opinions on. It's a topic that often causes women, myself included at times, to be judgmental of other women.

Especially for me at this time, going back to work has given me some fresh insight with this. There have been different points in my life when I have been on both sides of the fence as far as my beliefs. But this new experience has caused me to re-analyze some of my opinions.

I have to begin by sharing my experiences with my own mother. My experiences with my own mother "shape" my own style and beliefs of mothering second only to the Bible. She is a huge influence in how I mother my own children. I'd say that is true in most people's lives. You take some things that your parents did and determine you will NEVER do that. I'd say 80% of those we end up doing ourselves, are appalled at the moment we realize we are repeating the thing we vowed never to do, and then understanding a glimpse into what it must have been like to have been our own parents. My parents become better and better parents the older my children get! :) But, there are some things that we don't want to repeat. Myself? I want our house to really be a hangout for all my kids' friends. My mom stressed a lot about the cleaning and all that. I want our house, especially as our kids get older, to just be that cool place to hang out. Now, again, I may change once I get to that stage... we'll see.

On the same token, there are some things you take from your parents that you definitely want to repeat and instill with your own children whether it be traditions, beliefs, or just general runnings of the household. My mom's cooking, standards of cleanliness, and ability to really listen to us, and her 100% enthusiasm about whatever it was we were doing is what I would take from her. From my father, I love his logical mind that thinks through things so thoroughly, his wise money sense, his sarcastic humor which I have undertaken well, and his laugh. Of course, most people identify with their same sex parent the most. Your same sex parent "shapes" the way you parent in a huge way. We have become our mothers in a sense; we have become people that could have perhaps been friends with our own mothers had we been parenting at the same time. It's an eye-opening experience. So, I have to write the history of my own "shaping" before I can delve into my beliefs about motherhood.

Growing up, my mom always stayed home. She was always there to take me and pick me up from school, bring me something that I forgot at home (okay, often not happily), and even as I got older and was driving, she was ALWAYS there.

As I was younger, I for the most part, enjoyed my mother being at home. There were some negatives - if I breathed wrong at school, she ALWAYS found out about it. She was at school often - like all the time. Mom was always going on field trips (again, couldn't get in any trouble, but I always got cool stuff at the gift shops), doing holiday parties at school, and helping out wherever she could. One time she dressed up as Miss Piggy, like all out, to do some party for my brother or sister's school. She tutored, did yearbooks, wherever they needed her she was there; she was a huge asset to the school, and I liked her involvement most of the time.

There were some negatives. My mom was the only mother of my group of friends who tried on lipstick in fourth grade that found out. She was there all the time, my teacher told her, and he knew my mother wouldn't stand for that.

My fifth grade teacher and my mom became good friends, and I had to go over to her house for dinner one time. She came to our house several times too. That was totally weird at the time; she was a great teacher, and I really liked her - just weird to mix my two worlds.

And, in sixth grade, we had a sub for field day, and I being the class dare-devil, decided to tie our teacher's shoelaces together. I crawled on my tummy, army-style, snuck to our substitute, and tied her shoes together - it was a success! I ruled too; everyone loved it! Feeling her feet tied together when she went to move them to stand up kept her from falling or anything really cool, so that was a letdown. Still a great prank. Somehow she figured out it was me. Maybe the class ratted me out - I don't remember. So, of course, we went out to field day, and of COURSE my mother was there - she was always there! I figured I'd be okay if the sub didn't put two and two together - there were tons of kids and parents and teachers there. We're walking up as a class and my sub says, "Cathy!!!" (my mom's name) and my mom says her name in an equally ecstatic tone, and they hug. I knew I was done for. They knew each other from way back when somewhere. My mom asked her what she was doing there; the sub said she was subbing for Mrs. Garrett's class! ... Oh wow! My daughter is in Mrs. Garrett's class! Do you know Sarah?... The sub laughs, oh, yes, I do! And she tells my mom my shoe incident while I snuck away. Thankfully, the sub somehow had a great sense of humor about it, the day was a long one with field day, my mom was in a good mood, and I didn't get in much trouble. That lack of grounding for 8 years there still baffles me!

As I got older, especially in high school, I still liked for the most part that mom was there. There were times I wanted to just come home, talk on the phone all afternoon, and have whoever I wanted to come over until my parents got home. That's what most of my friends got to do. I envied their freedom. In hindsight, that's the reason why moms SHOULD be home when their children are in high school. Who knows how much trouble I could have gotten in during those hours. So, there were times I just wished she wasn't there to make me start homework or clean my room. But, there were also LOTS of afternoons that I would come home and just talk to my mom about whatever was interesting throughout the day. Junior and high school is a BRUTAL time in anyone's life. Kids are so mean to each other, hormones are raging, teachers are harder - it's just a tough time.

Even when I went to college, I thought I would explode if I had to spend one more day at home during the summer after my senior year. I could not wait to get away from my mom - as far as possible - she drove me crazy! But, the night my parents left to go back home after dropping me off, I sat on my dorm room bed, 5 hours from home, at a campus where I didn't know ONE SINGLE PERSON (my choice), and I cried. My mom had left cards from my brother, sister, and each of my parents. My mom's touched me the most. I had been out to go to a test or some freshmen orientation. I came back, and my parents were gone because my orientation had gone a lot longer and they had five hours to drive and Sunday School classes to teach in the morning. They had bought me a refrigerator, TONS of groceries, and all kinds of just little things that I would need. I had been awful to both of them part of that day, just griping about anything that didn't go exactly my way. I sat there looking at all of the thoughtful things they had bought me and ways she had fixed up my room - things to make my life as comfortable as possible in a dorm room and to feel like home, and I was overwhelmed by their love. And, at that moment, I just wanted to go back and live at home.

I got over it pretty fast, and loved college life - a little too much I suppose. I didn't come home for many breaks choosing to spend them with friends. I pushed my parents away in that sense, but boy, if things went wrong, they were the first ones I ran to. My mom would often say that I would call her, give her the big dramatics that occurred that day that were of course the end of my world resulting in a truly broken heart. I would call and cry and cry and she would make me feel better. I'd get off, having talked through everything, feel better, and go along my way. Mom was left on the other end, totally burdened for me, worried about her baby 5 hours away, and would worry and worry for days about whatever tragedy I'd called about. She'd call to check on me a couple of days later, and she would inevitably ask how the situation with such and such was going. I often remember saying, "What? What are you talking about? .... Oh! That was days ago, yeah, I remember now I told you about that. No, that was great.... I don't remember how it worked out, but it's fine... But, let me tell you the horrible thing that happened today..." And, she would listen patiently again.

I notice it more now that mom has died than I did before, but a mother is the only person in your life that really cares about every single little detail. She is the only one that is willing to stop and drop everything to listen to the most mundane details in your life, analyze them to great lengths, and talk about all possible courses of action in response as well as the pros and cons of each.

We like to think that we would do that for a friend or even another close family member, but when it comes down to it, our lives are just to busy to listen to all of that. And the emotional investment to get that involved in someone else's life is just often too much. That's the unique thing about the role of mother. A mother's only focus is giving to her child - she listens, worries, does for, takes care of - always giving, giving, giving - without the expectation of reciprocity. Ever. Friendships are based on give and take, as they should be. A friend who takes up too much of the emotional energy or is too needy is not being balanced. It throws the whole friendship out of whack. That's the way friendships were designed. But, your mother, that's the one relationship where we are able to be more selfish; we go to our mothers and just absorb their love, care, concern, and pity. Yes, pity; sometimes it's nice to have your mom just feel sorry for you and acknowledge that something in your life stinks. And then, moms somehow make it better, even if it's with just listening and holding you, fixing your favorite dinner, or taking you shopping.

I suppose that this gets a little more balanced as we get older. I wouldn't have experience in this area. But, I know friends whose moms are now their best friends. I think as we get older, our moms are able to talk to us about some trials or things that bother them like something at work, or getting fatter and out of shape, or what to wear somewhere. We can become more of equals. But, I still think as far as deeply emotional problems, most mothers don't ever, or in my mind shouldn't, depend on their daughters for those deeply emotional things. The precedent is set that the daughter can share with her mother her deepest heartaches, and perhaps the mother shares those with her friends, her husband, or her own mother if she's still alive. I could be off base there.

So, there's the history of my "shaping". I, growing up, had a great, solid mom at home. That's not to say she didn't have her share of mistakes. There were a LOT of things that were wrong too. But, my overall impression of her is that loving, caring persona. Maybe it's what I choose to remember now that she is gone; either way, that's what I remember. And it shapes who I am as a mother and who I want to be.

Stay tuned for part two soon where I will really get into the two sides of this issue. Just a postnote, it will be great in the meantime to hear similar stories from anyone else who wants to share. I think people's childhoods and what shaped them are insanely interesting! So, comment, comment, comment!