My son (nickname, “TT”) grabbed hold of his marigold yellow FAO Schwarz toolbox, crawled under the dining table, and while extracting the well-worn wrench proclaimed, “Don’t bother me Momma! I’m working!”
No, the table was not in need of repair. TT was simply in need of an identity—a way to fit into the grown-up world of (male) work. After all, for almost a year, he’d return from preschool only to learn that his Daddy was out “working on a stinky house” and wouldn’t be home until past his bedtime. From his mind’s eye, he saw:
1. Daddy WENT to work (outside of the home).
2. Daddy physically LABORED at work (strength over mind).
3. Daddy used TOOLS at work (machinery manipulated to complete a task).
4. Daddy didn’t LIKE work (‘I HAVE to go work on STINKY houses).
5. And when Daddy was at home, he was STILL working! (Talking to sub-contractors on the phone, completing our own home repairs, etc.)
TT’s Aristotelian view of work as toil came not just from his Dad, but what he picked up at preschool too.
Ever eavesdrop on parent-child drop-off exchanges at daycare? You know, ‘don’t cry baby. Mommy has to leave for work or she’ll be late. But, you’ll have fun. More fun than me! I promise!’ Or, ‘Daddy doesn’t want to go to work either, but I have to go now.’ Hmm...I'm guilty!
How about those preschool career books lying around—ever flipped through the big bold print? You know the books that plant the quickly rooted (American) question ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?” and offer few answers to that very question with a quick portrayal of traditional, sex-typed occupations. ‘Meet Dave. He’s a Doctor. Meet Jane. She’s a Nurse.’ Where are the social media consultants, entrepreneurs, or non-profit leaders???
It’s no wonder that our daughter, Magda, is worried that she might only get to be 1 thing when she grows up! She’s being asked to choose A work identity, now, at age 5!
While Daddy no longer works “in the field” and instead “goes to the office” Monday through Friday (the topic of another post), our son’s developing concept of work continues to gravitate toward that which he can see, manipulate or produce. Waving a hammer holds much more weight for him than sitting in front of the computer, though he enjoys the latter much more than the former...
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
And so it begins...
On the way to summer kinder camp this morning, my 5-year old daughter asks me, “Mommy, can I be more than one thing when I grow up?”
“Of course!” I say, enchanted that she’s thinking beyond the traditional preschool lecture on work. You know, the ‘ I want to be a teacher when I grow up.’ (Please, teachers take no offense; I was one myself awhile back.)
“I can be 10-things?” she pursues.
“Yep,” I nod, searching for a kid friendly tune on the radio.
Then quiet, though I’m guessing that the conversation is not over. If I listen closely enough, I can hear the wheels churning (and not the car wheels). A “but…” is rising in her consciousness.
“So how can I be 10-things mama when you’re only 1 thing?”
Oh no. I don’t want to ask. I ask anyway, “What one thing am I?”
“You’re just a Mommy,” she declares.
And just then the radio stops on, ‘Life is a highway. I want to drive it all night long…’ My 4-year old son shouts, “Turn it up Mommy!” and I realize that the teaching moment is lost to Lightening McQueen’s theme song.
So I proceed to sing aloud with the giggles from the backseat on our way to summer kinder camp all the while asking the questions that urged me to finally dive into the mommy blog universe. Because I know I am not the only woman to ask how the hell her 42 years of work experiences and pursuits distill into one singular identity of mother? Is this my fault? In my efforts to be a “good mother” have I forgotten to show them other aspects of “me” or “work”? Is this a wake up call to start? Then again, what meaningful work other than mothering do I want to model?
The pursuit begins. Momma needs work.
“Of course!” I say, enchanted that she’s thinking beyond the traditional preschool lecture on work. You know, the ‘ I want to be a teacher when I grow up.’ (Please, teachers take no offense; I was one myself awhile back.)
“I can be 10-things?” she pursues.
“Yep,” I nod, searching for a kid friendly tune on the radio.
Then quiet, though I’m guessing that the conversation is not over. If I listen closely enough, I can hear the wheels churning (and not the car wheels). A “but…” is rising in her consciousness.
“So how can I be 10-things mama when you’re only 1 thing?”
Oh no. I don’t want to ask. I ask anyway, “What one thing am I?”
“You’re just a Mommy,” she declares.
And just then the radio stops on, ‘Life is a highway. I want to drive it all night long…’ My 4-year old son shouts, “Turn it up Mommy!” and I realize that the teaching moment is lost to Lightening McQueen’s theme song.
So I proceed to sing aloud with the giggles from the backseat on our way to summer kinder camp all the while asking the questions that urged me to finally dive into the mommy blog universe. Because I know I am not the only woman to ask how the hell her 42 years of work experiences and pursuits distill into one singular identity of mother? Is this my fault? In my efforts to be a “good mother” have I forgotten to show them other aspects of “me” or “work”? Is this a wake up call to start? Then again, what meaningful work other than mothering do I want to model?
The pursuit begins. Momma needs work.
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