Happy (Late) Mother's Day!

Shame on me for letting so much time slip away!  I am posting a college paper my grandmother wrote describing her "job" as a Mother.  I love the way she writes--such humor and wit.  She is who I want to be when I grow up (someday).
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            I have been a full-time wife and mother for twenty years.  Any job description I write will be incomplete and inadequate.  Nonetheless, I shall try.  Let me begin with my usual tasks.

            As a wife, or housewife—the more common term, I am expected to keep the house clean, presentable and decorated tastefully, on the order of House Beautiful.  The floors are to be mirrors, the curtains spotless and fluffy.  Old wallpaper should be stripped, as well as old paint, then the walls must be painted, doors stained and varnished and the pictures  hung just so.    Housewives are particularly suited for this sort of because, as my son says, they don’t charge overtime for weekends and 3 AM quitting times.

            The next task facing a housewife is the preparation of gourmet meals.  This may appear simple to the uninitiated.  However, hurdles are constantly being introduced to challenge even the best chef.  Dinner for five becomes a much greater feat when the five are to be served at one time, 30 minutes apart, to accommodate dancing lessons, play rehearsals and a bad day at the office.  Other memorable events have been, “Mom, I invited 35 people to a party tomorrow night at my house.  You wouldn’t mind just fixing a few snacks would you?  Well, it is my house, too.”  “Mom, I need birthday cake for 100 people tomorrow.  I’ll help with dinner, though, I don’t have to leave for an hour.”  “Dear, I know you have an accounting exam in 30 minutes, but could you leave something in the oven?  I’ll be bringing a business associate from out of town home for dinner in two hours.”  And then, as we sit down to a very special dinner party, planned for two weeks, “I hope you don’t mind, but we brought four extra people.  You can just add some extra plates.”

            There are many other less time-consuming but equally as frustrating chores.  Laundry is where you wash and iron everything twice a week but never have the particular jeans or shirt wanted, so you do that one at midnight or 6 AM.  You are also expected to take a turn at car-pools.  My day comes on the occasion of 6” of snow or the day the streets flood.  Then there is the sewing and mending.  The costumes are particular fun.  Stuffing tails with old nylons for cats and devils, making a pilgrim hat—just like in the picture—or knight’s armor from gilded gunny sacks, all allow you to express your creativity.

            Once you become a mother, your duties are expanded greatly, not by your family necessarily, but by the community.  All mothers are to allow time for: serving lunch at school cafeteria, being room mother, den mother, scout leader, hostess, and the everlasting committee assignments.  No community organization can survive without the volunteer mother, be it educational, religious, charitable, or political.

            My priorities come into conflict with the priorities other people have set for me.  Sometimes I think an award should be given to the best-supporting mother of the year.  I want to graduate from college and support myself.  I often wonder if my services will be as necessary if they are not free. Am I useful or could I be?

            My goals that I could consider achieved would have to be that my children are almost grown up and they have turned out to be such fine people.  However, I do not feel much personal success in it.  They were all pretty nice the day they were born.

            I do not report to anyone.  I am unanswerable to everyone.  If my children misbehave in school, I report to the principal’s office.  If they are hurt, I did not take adequate precautions.  The nurse in the emergency room looks at an injured child and says, “Where was the mother?”  My grandchild is due in Utah next month.  I won’t be there.  There is not a soul in the world who feel the slightest hesitation to tell me I should be.  Mothers only have superior officers, even their children do not remain subordinates for long.

            There are unique and special rewards, though.  “You see Mom, most parents aren’t like you.  You care.”  “Can I just sit by you, Momma?  Some people are such good friends, they can just sit and be comfortable.”  “I know it’s late, Mom, but I have to talk to you now and tell you what a good time I had.”  “The policeman said I was the first boy who ever broke a school window and turned himself in.  I threw the ball too high.”

            Soon I shall be out of a job.  I hope to find another.  This time I intend to educate myself adequately to perform the tasks.  I want a finite list of my duties.  Oh yes, one more thing—I want better hours.

Constance B. Embree

September 30, 1979