I passed my test! Halleluiah! Now, in order to apply to an aid program, I have to develop my résumé. How do you write a resume when you haven’t had paying work in over 2 decades? What have I done that would demonstrate my fitness for a position? I’m raising three wonderful sons; does that count? How do you quantify that?
It would be nice if anyone reading a résumé would know how much of the experience of parenting can be translated to success in the working world. My mother-in-law, a champion of full-time mothers, is fond of listing all the job titles of motherhood: director of consumer affairs, secretary of education, chief of health care, financial affairs minister, judge, mediator, and advocate, and, I would add, kisser of booboos, instiller of values and keeper of the peace. Yes, all of those come into play as mothers juggle the endless needs of their children with everything else that goes into creating a loving and functional home.
But just in case, I guess I’ll have to throw in some of those extra things that show my leadership or managerial skills, like sitting on boards and heading up fundraising efforts that raised about $100,000 (twice) for my kids’ school, or coaching recreational soccer. Or I could list things like the fact that I'm good at communication, can speak French, and can operate a computer.
Toby offered to be listed as a reference: “Yes, she raised us very well,” he’d attest. He recently reminded me that I somehow managed to let them get away with two desserts when they were little, calling the milkshake right after dinner “dessert” and the one right before bed “bedtime snack,” for which I seem to have become a sort of folk hero mom to them.
I introduced them to Bob Dylan and Dire Straits. I let them choose the music while riding in the car and even came to enjoy most of it, even if I did often hit the dial to change from Live 105 to acoustic 92 as soon as they got out at school. I probably let them watch too much TV, but always insisted on appropriate content. We held back on movie ratings, often not letting them see certain movies even if they had attained the designated age, while many of their friends were allowed to watch movies rated well beyond their ages. The years as the boys grew from PG to PG-13 to R were a constant refrain of “But Mom, all the other kids’ parents let them watch those movies!” We were pretty lame for that, but we held firm, much to their disgruntlement.
When video and computer games started becoming popular, we let them have them only at Bill’s office, so that we wouldn’t have to police their use of them at home, and to give them something exclusive to do when they hung out with Dad while he was working. A decade later, with electronics so thoroughly permeating their lives, we still try to limit content and time. But recently Toby and Reed have taken off with Starcraft, playing until the wee hours of the morning. I see this as a good thing, though, a fun means of brotherly bonding, bridging the 6 years between the eldest and youngest before Toby heads back to college: Toby and Reed against the world.
My sons have spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen. I taught them to bake cookies and exposed them to the delicious pleasure of tasting the dough. I ensured that they committed to memory the recipe for real rice krispy treats, the original Chocolate Scotcheroos from the Rice Krispy box made with peanut butter and corn syrup, not marshmallow cream, and the exquisite topping of chocolate and butterscotch chips melted together.
Sean and his high school friends, instead of going out and getting in trouble, have bake-offs, vying for the honor of the most delectable apple pie, or the best use of fresh blackberries from the back yard.
I have produced a trio of creative and enthusiastic chefs, capable turning out delicious entrées, barbeque, and baked goods. However, this is the result not of tireless instruction in the kitchen, but rather my frequent failure to get dinner on the table at all, causing them to fend for themselves. If only I had known what a favor I was doing all those years, what a clever strategy I was putting into play, I wouldn’t have felt so guilty. These days, however, I can revel in the sweetest phrase to come from a child’s lips: “Mom, dinner’s ready!”
