I've been thinking of you, Working Mama.
It happens when the kitchen clock hits 8:00 a.m. and we're still eating breakfast. I think about how you're probably already commuting to work, kids fed, dressed, and dropped off at school-- and you've already had your shower.
It happens when I hit Publix mid-morning, my only stressor being how-to-prevent-my-two-year-old-from-running-over-the-elderly-shoppers and which new recipe I should try for dinner. I think of you and how you manage to buy groceries for the family during the crowded evening rush, or over the weekends.
I remember being a Working Mama, too--when my Saturdays fell to Catching Up on Laundry and my Sundays guaranteed no nap; when I jealously eyed the Gym Mamas dropping their kids off at my class, decked out in the latest Nike workout outfits, declaring their morning belonged to Toned Muscles and Just-A-Little-More-Fit-Than-I-Presently-Felt; when I wished for more time with my newborn and prayed for the grace to make it through another week.
Maybe you're a Working Mama by choice and you don't have a stitch of envy for Gym Mamas. Maybe you love your career and feel immensely satisfied with the roles you so graciously juggle. Maybe being a Working Mama is in your blood and you wouldn't have it any other way.
Whatever the case,
Working Mama, I think
And I hope you get the praise you deserve.