Story I was talking about...

This is the story I was talking about in the post "Non-Profit?"


BEING A "MOM"


A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County
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 you just a...?"

"Of course, I have a job," snapped the woman.
"I'm a Mom."

"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation; house-wife
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
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 four credits (all 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
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 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I
could hear our new experimental model, (a 6- month-old
baby) in the child development program, testing out a
new vocal pattern. I felt 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 Mom."