Today I went to the office supply store to get tonor for my cartrige and a box of paper. At that point, my infant started stuffing something he found from the dirty cart into his mouth as my four year old fell to the ground refusing to walk declaring that his “legs don’t have any more walking in them.”
I dumped his 53 pounds in the cart (he’s tall for his age) – and let him sit on top of the box of paper which must have been filled with cement. As I waited in line for the one cashier on duty at 3 in the afternoon, my infant starts screaming as my son pokes him in the back. I ask my son to stop and he throws a fit. I know they are tired. It’s naptime for the baby. My son turns bright red and howls.
The woman glared at me.
I smiled at the neatly pressed woman in line behind me who is huffing at the cacophony that has befallen my spawn and apologize.
“Sorry,” I said, “I am a working mom, trying to get it all done.”
She sneered at me and pointedly said, “well, then shouldn’t you be working?” She tapped her blackberry and ignored me.
I could have smacked her. When did women get so hostile toward each other? I work too! I just might not be in a pretty, creased suit with a perfect manicure. So my kids are a mess. So my hair is a mess. I earn a living too.
Why are the bridges between working women, stay at home mothers, working mothers so far apart?