WONDER MOMS

Much has been written about the master jugglers known as working mom. And, most justifiably.  Having been one for a couple of decades, I know first hand just how difficult, frustrating and demanding that is. You often don’t know where to put your head and body first because of the concurrent demands of career, kids and home.

I learned early on in this reality schizophrenia that compulsive organization and a great housekeeper were not luxuries but necessities if one can afford it. Without the former, life would be chaos, without the latter you couldn’t go to work to pay for trivial things like rent, food, electricity, phone, etc. and the housekeeper.

Throughout the years, I employed several housekeepers. A couple were great, a few wonderful and one an unbelievable disaster that defied credibility. I found that the best way to indoctrinate a new housekeeper/nanny was to her hire beginning Saturday so I had the weekend to show her the ropes.  This disaster person came with impeccable references and she was fine all weekend.  Monday morning off I went to work feeling confident she would do a good job.

Now it just so happened that Joe, my washing machine repairman, was coming that morning. About 10 AM he called me and in barley a whisper said that machine was fixed and he was getting out of my apartment pronto. I said why and in a whisper he said that that something was wrong with this lady.  Joe stood about five feet six, she was about six feet tall and he wasn’t about to mess with her.

I then received another phone call from the children’s paternal grandmother who had kindly taken care of the one year old while the six year old was in school thus the new housekeeper could become accustomed to the job.  She excitedly announced there was no way she was going into the apartment because something was wrong with this woman. At that, I said so long to my secretary and rushed home. Arriving there, I found the housekeeper passed out on her bed, every window open, the vacuum and cleaning stuff scattered all over the apartment. In short, it, like her, was a disaster. 

I shook this lady awake, told her to pack her things and leave. It took her a few minutes to understand that she was fired. My response was that she was either an alcoholic of drug addict and I didn’t want her in my home. I paid her for the weekend and off she went. I then set about cleaning up the mess.

This is what I found. A fifth of my scotch – empty. A fifth of my rye – empty - and a pint of her rot gut brand – also empty. She had drunk all that from 8:30 AM till Joe had arrived at 10. It was amazing that she was still alive let alone able to walk. It took me a week to replace her so I worked from home.

Then there was Margaret, a beautiful young woman from Ireland who was Mary Poppins incarnate.  The children were beautifully cared for, the house immaculate and the meals delicious. Life was good until I discovered that Margaret hated men. I heard her chatting with her friends on the phone about this guy or that and what bums they all were. At that time, my daughter was just approaching adolescence and I didn’t think it a good idea that she heard all this anti-male talk.

Simultaneously I learned that Margaret, hating men as she did, was hooking on her time. Again not a good influence on my daughter. It pained me to let her go because she was truly perfect. So I tactfully suggested that she was too smart and capable for housekeeping and should go out into the world.  She agreed and we tearfully parted.

But even with a great housekeeper, a working mom is always torn between the kids and the job. You have a meeting and a teacher conferred at the same time. Neither can be rescheduled. You’re on a deadline and one of the kids gets sick. What do you do?  Go home, tend to your child and work from there. The conflicts are endless but somehow you muddle through. The kids survive, the job goes on and you are in a continuous state of exhaustion. So drink a toast to all those working moms.  They deserve it.