Growing Up with a Working Mom

When I was growing up, my mom worked. A lot. She’d leave every morning very early so she could get to her job in D.C. and wouldn’t get back until around 7 pm every night. I also grew up in a very traditional school where a lot of my friends had stay at home moms. The stay at home moms baked cookies and were  on the school board and picked them up from school every day. My mom couldn’t do that.
There are those who would accuse of her of not spending enough time with her kids. To those people I’d like to say this: every time my mom came home from work, tired and hungry, and still made time for us, I had something to aspire to. Not only did she work because she wanted to provide for us like my dad does, but also because her work brought her satisfaction, self sufficiency, and pride in what she contributed. She wasn’t less motherly because she went to work every morning, she was more womanly. She encapsulated exactly what it meant to be a woman, at least in my eyes. Intelligent and hardworking and badass. She balanced everything. I’ve never felt that I lacked anything in a mother. I didn’t need cookies, I had the opportunity to watch my mom work in a large corporation, seeing her manage people and projects. I grew to understand how I wanted my home to be when I grew up. Women who stay home and take care of their kids are to be admired. They’ve truly devoted themselves and all they have to family, and that’s absolutely beautiful. But women who work all day and still come home and cook dinner? They should also be admired, they’ve become my role models.

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