“I don’t really know what my mom does all day, but she used to be a writer.”
That’s what my son wrote as part of a “getting to know you” writing assignment in school last year. I don’t know what was more upsetting about reading that sentence: Discovering my “former writer” status, or absorbing the implication that I don’t presently have much of a life.
I have to admit, it stung. I was tempted to hand my kid a list of all the “mom chores” I do every day, or point out the writing projects (both paid and volunteer) I have done in the past year. I did neither.
I did think a lot about recognition, and why it hurt me so much to feel unrecognized. Clearly, I had not earned “mom of the year” status in my son’s eyes, despite all my momming around, since he couldn’t even figure out what I did all day. And my writing exploits were, apparently, far from impressive. At least, they didn’t make much of an impression on him. That one sentence in my son’s essay stirred up a hornet’s nest of doubts about whether I was performing well at either of my “jobs.” Of course, those doubts had been buzzing in my brain for a while. Being a mother can be a thankless job. The benefits are fantastic, but the pay sucks, and there are no trophies. In my work as a freelance writer, I seldom get any public recognition. All the “glory” goes to my clients, which is the way it’s supposed to be. I do get a paycheck at the end of the project, most of the time.
So, I’m stuck with a recognition deficit. Only time will tell if my kids ever recognize what I did all day, and truly, I don’t really care. It’s not their job to fill me up. But it is nice to have a community of other parents to say “hey, I see you, and you’re doing a good job,” and then say it right back to them. If you’ve ever felt the same way, I’d love to hear from you.