Yes, we've come a long way, baby. We can join the workforce, bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and we can choose to stay home, take care of the kids, the homestead and start an internet porn business on the side.
The other day while talking with a friend about the ridiculousness of the so-called "Mommy Wars," I realized that regardless of whether a mom is working out of the home or in the home, both women are essentially spending their day doing the same things.
First, I plan to shower in silence (aside from the occasional toilet flush of a fellow member). The hot water will feel so amazing that it won't even bother me that the water pressure is exceptionally low and I have to wear my workout socks because I forgot flip-flops.
For some reason, I feel the need to make my decision more understandable to the person asking the question. Justified. And -- dare I say it? -- politically correct.
If I can show my daughters that there are many people who care about them and whom they can love in return, at least one part of my job as their mother will be fulfilled.
I'm just a mom and I'll never be the leader of the pack. I'll never win a race. I don't have any extraordinary talents or skills. But I have a mother's heart.
From the moment I heard Emma's shrill, loud cry as she emerged into the world, I knew that I would never again feel content unless I knew she was OK. When Charlotte arrived one minute later, floppy and quiet for a moment, that feeling doubled.
I don't mean to brag, but I do so many things. Things that are relevant. And important. And valuable. And invisible.
Instead of seeing banana-smudged faces that needed a wipe, or food-spattered pajamas that needed a change, I saw them.
If you saw a woman touring a homeless tent city wearing a newborn wrapped snuggly to her chest and being followed by her four other children as she jo...
No matter what your husband, boyfriend or fiancé has said to you, the truth is, he has peed (or if he's lucky, is still is peeing) in your shower.
I look at my daughter's face and see barely a whisper of the little girl who once reached for me with chubby hands and a baby toothed grin -- her nails are manicured, her teeth are straight and white. Her face is now all cheekbones and eyeliner. The slumped, awkward adolescent has become a tall, confident adult who moves easily in the world without me.
Bartering became my strong suite. I figured if I did something nice for my wife, she would gladly trade me duties, or just do it because of my "random" act of kindness.
When I was a childless TV news reporter, I would laugh when my stay-at-home mom friends would tell me that their houses were a mess. How on earth do you stay home all day and you don't get anything done?
The house was me. The house showed everyone what a great homemaker I am. What a brilliant designer. What a stylish person. Maybe even someone they'd want to be like.
I never factored in the roadblocks , and daily challenges that come along with being at home with the kids all day long. So, I will break down a more accurate account of my day to show you what I mean.