I never liked the terms “homemaker” or “housewife” or even “stay-at-home” mom. Each term implied to me that the choice to spend 24/7 with my kids had more to do with the house than the people in it.
Years ago, I read an incidental comment in a blog that referred to a woman as a “Professional Mom.” The words shimmered on the screen for a moment and then I heard a small boy band of angels harmonizing: “Ahhhhhh.” That’s it. That’s the term for what we do.
Not “Home Sweet Home” for Me
The inclusion of the word “home” or “house” in defining women who choose to make careers out of educating their kids and/or managing the details of their family’s life together, shrinks the scope of what “mothering” and “educating” imply.
Home is a great word—when referring to flopping on the couch, watching TV, getting away from “out there.” Home can be the place where memories are housed (groan). Home is either a respite from the world away or a mini-prison, depending on who you live with.
But when the words “home” or “house” are attached to the work I do every day, I feel diminished. My work is suddenly the ill-fitting homemade prom dress, not the sparkly, elegance of Vera Wang!
Professh, baby!
“Professional” on the other hand, implies trained, skilled, qualified—a certification that elevates you to the level of expert in your field. Silk stockings, a wide desk, business lunches over cocktails—”glam cool smart” life.
Now I know realistically, “mocktails” are more likely to appear in sippy cups at your lunches. Stockings? Do you mean soup stock? A wide desk buried in paperwork and Cheerios, strangely resembling the kitchen table, more like.
Our profession is a down-and-dirty one, but it IS a profession. Training comes through immersion—a blind leap into the ocean of parenthood, where we juggle the manual in one hand and the crying baby in the other, while hanging onto the life raft during a rip tide.
10,000 Miles Hours
Malcolm Gladwell in his book, Outliers, asserts that expertise in any field is created through practice. 10 hours a week for 20 years gives you 10,000 hours. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. As though you only spend 10 hours a week on this job!
I figure if you calculated your time investment using 40 hours per week (which is still on the low end, if you’ve had babies and toddlers), you would have hit 10,000 hours in less than 5 years.
Let me repeat that: By the time your oldest child is 5, you are an expert—a professional mom. Your “certification” may still not know how to tie his shoes, but proof of your expertise hangs round your ankles and tugs on your shirt tail for more juice, all the live-long day.
Your multi-tasking lifestyle may not draw a paycheck in cash (though it certainly does in hugs), but it is vital to the well-being of society.
So well done, Professional Mom. You’re a pro.
Julie Bogart is the author of The Brave Learner. She homeschooled her five children for seventeen years. Now she runs Brave Writer, the online writing and language arts program for families, and is the founder of The Homeschool Alliance and Poetry Teatime.
Years ago, I read an incidental comment in a blog that referred to a woman as a “Professional Mom.” The words shimmered on the screen for a moment and then I heard a small boy band of angels harmonizing: “Ahhhhhh.” That’s it. That’s the term for what we do.
The inclusion of the word “home” or “house” in defining women who choose to make careers out of educating their kids and/or managing the details of their family’s life together, shrinks the scope of what “mothering” and “educating” imply.
Home is a great word—when referring to flopping on the couch, watching TV, getting away from “out there.” Home can be the place where memories are housed (groan). Home is either a respite from the world away or a mini-prison, depending on who you live with.
But when the words “home” or “house” are attached to the work I do every day, I feel diminished. My work is suddenly the ill-fitting homemade prom dress, not the sparkly, elegance of Vera Wang!
Professh, baby!
“Professional” on the other hand, implies trained, skilled, qualified—a certification that elevates you to the level of expert in your field. Silk stockings, a wide desk, business lunches over cocktails—”glam cool smart” life.
Now I know realistically, “mocktails” are more likely to appear in sippy cups at your lunches. Stockings? Do you mean soup stock? A wide desk buried in paperwork and Cheerios, strangely resembling the kitchen table, more like.
Our profession is a down-and-dirty one, but it IS a profession. Training comes through immersion—a blind leap into the ocean of parenthood, where we juggle the manual in one hand and the crying baby in the other, while hanging onto the life raft during a rip tide.
10,000 Miles Hours
Malcolm Gladwell in his book, Outliers, asserts that expertise in any field is created through practice. 10 hours a week for 20 years gives you 10,000 hours. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. As though you only spend 10 hours a week on this job!
I figure if you calculated your time investment using 40 hours per week (which is still on the low end, if you’ve had babies and toddlers), you would have hit 10,000 hours in less than 5 years.
Let me repeat that: By the time your oldest child is 5, you are an expert—a professional mom. Your “certification” may still not know how to tie his shoes, but proof of your expertise hangs round your ankles and tugs on your shirt tail for more juice, all the live-long day.
Your multi-tasking lifestyle may not draw a paycheck in cash (though it certainly does in hugs), but it is vital to the well-being of society.
So well done, Professional Mom. You’re a pro.
Julie Bogart is the author of The Brave Learner. She homeschooled her five children for seventeen years. Now she runs Brave Writer, the online writing and language arts program for families, and is the founder of The Homeschool Alliance and Poetry Teatime.
