The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reported a 9.6 percent unemployment rate in August. Men still make up the majority of the labor force currently without work. But the women, like me, are certainly out there.
I've gone through several stages of self-directed pity regarding my new role as stay-at-home mom since I was laid off nearly a year and a half ago. Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for the time I get to spend with my two-year-old. And lest I forget, people tell me that I should be all the time.
"Really," they say sentimentally, after concurring that, yes, it is very difficult to find work in this economy. "Time at home with your daughter is for the best, don't you think?"
"Oh, I don't know," I'm dying to reply. "Is it?"
In talking to mothers, I've found that women who have temporarily or permanently abandoned a professional career to stay home -- voluntarily or not -- feel guilty in admitting that their experience is anything less than joyous, despite its unending tedium.
Many feel unfulfilled, says Michele Hoffnung, Professor of Psychology at Quinnipiac University, who studies the lives of working and stay-at-home mothers.
"Work provides a totally different setting, a different set of social interactions and a different set of resources than home does," she says. "Which is not to say it's better. But when you work you still have home. When you don't work, you only have home."
Some women choose to stay home because they truly believe it is better for their children, and there is a satisfaction in that, she adds. "I don't want to suggest anything different."
Still, a majority of those who once worked miss it. I sometimes beg my husband to stay just a few more minutes on mornings he's opted to go to work early. I have no real excuse beyond that I'm jealous of his freedom to get out of the house. Plus, I want the company.
"Once you leave, it's just us," I tell him. I love her, of course I do. And I love our time together, the fellow mom friends I've made and my lazy mornings over coffee while she plays.
But the endless preparing of toddler meals, the getting her in and out of the car seat, the trips up and down the stairs? "Perhaps you should be more efficient?" my husband suggests, and I suppress an urge to yell.
Discussing a mother's role is tricky, especially in trying economic times. I certainly feel lucky for what I have: An employed husband, roof over my head and supportive family. Yet I find myself fighting off feelings of boredom and a general longing for more.
"Society leads us to have totally unrealistic expectations of what a mother is," says Hoffnung. "None of us ever had a mother who was always patient, always happy. If you're home and you feel like, 'I can't stand this another minute' you feel guilty."
"Motherhood is supposed to be the ultimate fulfillment," she says. "Well, nothing is the ultimate fulfillment."
And that feels good to admit.
I thought about this recently as my daughter and I took a long walk around the old Italian section of New Haven. She paused every few seconds, pointing out things I didn't find quite as interesting, like a circular mound of dirt filled with trash and cigarette butts where a tree used to be. A few times she got frustrated with my mandate on holding hands and sat right down on the concrete in a passive aggressive, noncompliance act.
But the weather was ideal, the air was crisp, and we met several friendly strangers. I couldn't help thinking about how that particular walk and so many other mundane pursuits turn out to be completely worth the various annoyances included in this life I didn't plan. But there are still the annoyances. I know, the moral of this story is supposed to be that losing my job and staying at home with my daughter turned out to be everything I ever wanted. But it's simply not true. I miss work and I'll continue looking for something that fits in with this new lifestyle.
The day to day, however, holds moments I'm smart enough to recognize as unforgettable. I've gained new perspective, and patience; the ability to see the beauty in one very good morning.
Follow Cara McDonough on Twitter: www.twitter.com/caramcd
For the writer above it will take a big leap. She may wish to realize that daycare employees and pediatric nurses and language specialists and kindergarten teachers and physical fitness coaches all are paid to have the chance she has to nurture someone young. She may wish to look on it as opportunity not drudgery.
And then maybe she would be part of the movement to assert women's rights to funding, status and benefits whichever role they play, earning or not.