The Bed Made by This Working Mother

“Why are you here!?” Her words slapped me across the face. She bore no insight into the weight that they carried. “Mom! Why are you here?” With hands on hips, my daughter glared at me from across the school quad. 

For years, I hadn’t been “here.” Her entire life, in fact. I had been flying in airplanes; commuting in my car; and working long hours. She knew me as the woman that appeared only late in the evenings - or, not at all - and returned on the weekends exhausted from the week. When I was home, my mind was often still at work. Be present Kerri. Be present. 

I quit the race - albeit temporarily - so I could be “here.” I beamed with excitement my first week home, “isn’t this great!?” Driving to volleyball camp, head buried in cell phone, a groan barely escaping her lips. 

I’ll take it. I made my bed. 

When offered the relocation opportunity from Boston to SoCal in 2007, Daryl and I discussed at length how best to manage the increased travel and hours as a family. Our daughter was four. He and I were on similar career tracks making comparable coin. The promotion forced a decision. Reject the offer? Hire outside help? Or, suspend the corporate climb so he could support mine? I recognize and appreciate that having such options is a luxury that many don't possess. 

I watched him - with much guilt - wave goodbye to his New England roots along with an expansive tool collection (backhoe included), which had no place in our sans basement home and tiny yard.

Living in SoCal and working East Coast hours as a remote, software engineer, Daryl was able to pick up our daughter daily from school along with chauffeuring her to and fro extracurricular activities. He also assumed many of the domestic duties: cooking, cleaning, bill paying and the occasional load of laundry. Unfortunately, a glass of Scotch nor a recliner were waiting for my arrival home. Instead, dinner alone, more work and the occasional load of laundry. ;) 

In reading the 2013 New York Times article, “Wall Street Mothers, Stay-Home Fathers,” many of the Mothers interviewed stated that the real gift of a stay-at-home spouse is avoiding domestic distractions and COMPETING better against other bankers, many of them men with stay-at-home wives. “According to an analysis of census data, the number of women in finance with stay-at-home spouses has climbed nearly tenfold since 1980 and some of the most successful women in the field are among them.”  

Competing. Ignorant at the time, the ability to compete with my male counterparts was absolutely a factor in our decision nine years ago. With the exception of one other woman, all of my peers at the executive table were men with stay-at-home wives. In order to participate in late-night dinners; jump on a plane at the 11th hour; or take a client to a Lakers game, I too would need such a support system. Without it, I couldn’t compete nor would I want to. I loved my career. 

While still President at Commission Junction, I was often asked, "how do you do it (all)?" Like my male peers, I don't. I can't. Why should we be expected to when they are not? 

“You don’t know me at all!” A phrase often thrown at me during one of our mother/daughter battles. I take solace in the fact that her Father does. Their bond resulting in a strong and independent young woman, who has navigated the school and social landscape with great prowess. Once she exits her teenage years, I hope that she is no longer annoyed by my presence or choices, but inspired to explore her own. In the interim, I will cherish our time together. Groans and all.