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thedrifter
05-09-03, 09:50 AM
A Working Mother's Day, From A to Z

A guide to Mother's Day, letter by letter, by Allison Pearson, the author of the best-selling novel I Don't Know How She Does It
By ALLISON PEARSON


Thursday, May. 08, 2003
A mother in Boston was feeling guilty, as mothers do. Her daughter had told her she was the only mom who never took her kid to Brownies. Now that probably wasn't true, but it is the child's role to make the mother feel bad about things she hasn't done enough, as well as things she simply hasn't done. So the day of the next Brownie meeting, Mom got to the office early, rushed through her tasks, then made an excuse and left. She drove across town like Sandra Bullock in Speed. Arriving at the Brownie meeting, Mom sat down and basked for a few moments in a glow of satisfaction. It was then that she noticed the Brownie leader looking at her. "It's lovely to see you, Mrs. Johnson," the woman said. "But maybe next time you could bring your daughter as well?" "I forgot the kid," recalls the mom. "Can you believe it, I forgot the kid!"

Millions of mothers can believe it. A survey asked British mums who work outside the home what they would most like for Mother's Day. And what did they reply? Flowers? Chocolates? Dinner in Paris? No, what 72% wanted was this: a little bit of time to myself. The study also revealed that two-thirds were too exhausted to have sex and most felt they had tougher lives than their mothers'. And their moms didn't have to contend with the avalanche of parental-advice books. There you are thinking you're doing a pretty good job, when along comes an author explaining how, with a bit more effort, little Jake can be turned into Leonard Bernstein. Or Donald Trump. Or both. What these books presume is that parenting is a science, when in fact it falls somewhere between an art and a combat zone. What they never take into account is the frazzled woman who is leading a double life — trying to be a good mother while having to pretend at work that she doesn't have kids at all. Here, for those heroically divided souls, I present the Mother's Alphabet:

APPLE PIE. A symbol of motherhood, but you probably have no time to make one. Purchase a pie, put it in the oven till authentically burnt at the edges, then sprinkle on sugar for that "homemade" look.

BABY. Deceptively helpless creature with remarkable hidden powers. Initially nocturnal, though compensates by making the world thrillingly new for adults, when they are sufficiently awake to notice.

CHOCOLATE. Often mistaken for luxury item; in fact, an indispensable tool of child rearing. Messiness/obesity factor far outstripped by efficacy as bribe.

DELEGATE. I know you're a woman and can do everything around the house better than anyone else, but if we don't let them try, how are they going to learn? And no, it's not a total disaster if Dad dresses the kids so they look like Eminem.

EDUCATIONAL. The word you use when your mother-in-law asks why the kids are watching so many videos.

FOOD. A food is not necessarily essential just because your kid hates it. Spinach can wait.

GUILT. Is to motherhood what rain is to Seattle. It's the prevailing climate. Carry an umbrella and make the most of occasional sunshine.

HUSBAND. A well-meaning individual often found reading a newspaper. Believes that when the toilet paper runs out it is restocked by the Toilet-Paper Fairy.

IRRITABLE. What do you mean, irritable? Who are YOU CALLING irritable!

JUGGLING. Ability to keep several things in air at once — kids, frying pan, dental appointments, sex life, cat food.

KINDERGARTEN. Place that can take half your annual salary for regularly escorting your 5year-old to the bathroom and ensuring he catches at least eight colds a year.

LOVE. Powerful force unleashed in mother the moment baby is placed in her arms. Conquers all, but only just.

MOTHER. Should be worst job in world — terrible hours, no prospect of promotion, no pay. Somehow turns out to be best job in world.

NO. Useful word.

ORANGE. Color of juice, regardless of flavor, that child upends on your beige jacket on the morning you have a presentation to clients.

PHOTO ALBUM. In theory, a nostalgic, week-by-week record of every step of your child's first years. In practice, contains single blurry image of startled newborn. Then nothing.

QUALITY TIME. Short, intense period between mother's return from work and kids' bedtime when reluctant kids are dragged away from the TV to make her feel she's doing a great job.

RAGE. Condition brought about in woman by inability of man to understand that stuff left at bottom of stairs needs to be taken upstairs. "Do I have to do everything myself?" Yes.

SUCCESS. Behind every successful man is a woman. Behind every successful woman is herself. Look after her; she needs your support.

TOILET-PAPER FAIRY. Imaginary figure who works miracles around the house — filling ice-cube trays, putting socks into drawers. See also, Mother.

UNAPPRECIATED. Universal condition of moms, except on Mother's Day.

VACUUM. a) Household appliance or b) space between boss's ears during discussion of maternity leave.

WORK. The place without Legos.

X. The kiss at the bottom of your 4-year-old's Mother's Day card, the best letter anyone will ever write you.

YOU'RE NOT GOING OUT LOOKING LIKE THAT! Refrain of mothers down the centuries as teenage daughters step outside home to attract members of the opposite sex. Note: teens now start at 9.

ZOO. The state of a home after mother has been absent for more than a day. And everyone is hungry for her return.

Allison Pearson is the author of the best-selling novel I Don't Know How She Does It

From the May. 12, 2003 issue of TIME magazine


Sempers,

Roger