The Enigma

There appears to be some type of phenomenon happening since "that day". (I have yet to arrive at a formal name for my last day at work, perhaps something like "that day" will work for a while). As a full time working parent the mornings were stressful: get up, dressed, pants or skirt, boots or shoes, lunch box, snack, lunch money, books, brushing teeth, brushing hair...and that was just me. I never ate breakfast at home, I waited until I was able to sit down comfortably with a cup of coffee and eat my oatmeal. I had much too much to get done every morning, and I had to look like I was well put together for that 5 minutes of drop off time to the kindergarten door. There was so much pressure to get out the door on time, and look good, that a majority of the time my daughter hadn't brushed her teeth, her shoes were on the wrong feet and forget about brushing that long stringy hair, I'd just throw it up in a ponytail, and off she went. Who did she need to impress anyway? I had to look like the "together working mom".

I would get out of that car, walk her up to her classroom, and loved getting those few comments from the teachers on what I wore that day. "I love that jacket!" "Where did you get those boots?" "You look so skinny in those pants!" Oh, I relished in it. My hair looked good too, flowing in the wind, clean, bouncing over my business overcoat, God, those were the days.. I had it all going on on that playground for those five minutes. The stay at home mommies would chat after drop-off while their preschoolers played on the playground. I would always think how nice to stay and chat a while with other mommies. Not me, I was on my way to work, because I was a working mom.

The "working parent" as the socially acceptable police would say, has two camps: those who believe their children go to school to learn, become independent thinkers, and then there are those who believe parents go to work to get away from the kids. I fall somewhere in-between. Both of my children grew-up in the daycare system. I call it a system, because its just that, a systematic adventure to breathe rules and consistency into a child's life. Who doesn't love that? And parents learn, at an early point in parenthood, how to load-up a kid with a 101 temperature on enough tylenol to get you through a morning meeting with the VP.

I became the "enigma". Seen only for that short time at drop-off, Open-house night, Ice-cream social night, book fair night, and ultimately, the last day of school. I was "Super Working Mom". My son attended the same elementary school for 6 years, the only mommies I really knew were other working moms. Back then, I just dropped my son off at the front door, 20 minutes before the bell rang, so I could drop his sister off at Daycare then get to work. I was a shadow of a mother. Breezing in and out before anyone could catch me to chat. I'd periodically wave and think to myself, "I'll call her sometime and we'll get together for coffee." That never happened. I was a working mom who had to get to work.

And then, the inevitable. The first Monday after "that day" was a new dawn. I threw my hair into a ponytail, pulled on my work-out pants, sweatshirt and sneakers. My daughter looked stunning that day. I had time to give her a tubbie, wash her hair blow-dry it, iron her skirt and blouse, carefully pull her hair back in a cute clip. She looked good. Before I stepped out the door, I made sure I had enough mascara on left over from the day before, cleared out any smudges, threw on a scarf, and ventured off to school.

Walking up to her to her classroom, I chatted with other mommies on the way in, brought her to the teacher, who welcomed her with open arms, looked at me and said, "You look so, so, icky!" Well, not what I expected on my first unemployed Monday. "I was laid-off last week", I responded. The teacher looked so sad, as though she knew a big piece of my life had been taken away. "I'll be okay," I advised her, "it's a new beginning. But don't think I'm signing up to volunteer in that classroom!"

We working moms still have to keep up our pride. And on my way back to my car, I found another mommy to chat with. We talked for ten minutes as her little one played on the playground. She said this killed a good 15 minutes each day out of her day. Chatting was a time killer, stay-at-home mommies using it to get through the day, working mommies avoiding it to move their day along. I plan to use it to my advantage. I want to get to know people from the inside, not just judging them from the outside.