Job Title

A woman named Emily renewing her driver's license at the Clerk's office was

asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She hesitated,

uncertain how to classify herself.

"What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job, or are youjust 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."

"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 pronouncement was written in bold, black

ink on the official questionnaire.

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

two credits, (my daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most

demanding in the humanities, (any mother 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 more of a

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 6 and 3.

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!

A Mother's Wages

If I would charge one cent each time

I washed my children's clothes,

Or tied a shoe or gave a bath

Or wiped a runny nose,

Or made a bed or acted as

Their judge or referee,

It would be possible that I

Could live in luxury.

If I were paid a nickel for

Each diaper that I've pinned,

For every Band-Aid I've applied

When arms or legs were skinned,

For every toy that I've picked up

And put back in it's niche,

There wouldn't be a single doubt--

Why, I could be quite rich.

If just one dime would be my fee

For giving them a pill,

For making meals and wiping up

The milk they always spill,

For darning scores of tiny socks,

For fixing things that break,

It wouldn't be too long before

A fortune I would make.

Although it's true I don't receive

A solitary cent,

I'm repaid in many ways

For all the time I've spent.

Their smiles, their love is my reward

For this unending care,

And I am richer, yes, by far

Than any millionaire!

Doesn't that just say it all?

Anyway, this will be my last entry before our camping trip. I will most definitely be online over the next couple of nights...hoping that a certain someone will be too! ;) Until next time...