The Cost of Living

Today, for the first time, I saw what it means to be a working mother. Or – to put it differently – a competent professional woman, who is also a mother.

I was interviewed for a job at which I would excel: for an hour and a half, I gave intelligent, thoughtful and convincing answers to probing questions, and I convinced the Spanish manager and his assistant that I would be a great asset to their team.

And then, I told them that I have two young kids. And that I work 4 days a week.

I explained about balance and motivation and the fact that I would be 100% committed to the job 80% of the week.

And I watched as their faces closed off, their arms folded, their lips pursed.

Behind the manager’s head, a chirpy motivational poster hung on the back wall: A manager does the right thing... But a true leader does what is right!

Non-negotiable.

You might be the best candidate for the job, but we need someone full time.

Their self-important air let me know that this job merited more than a mother could give.

However, perhaps I would be prepared to negotiate?

I swallowed my disappointment, picked up my bag, thanked the manager for his time.

Walked to the door with as much self-assurance as I could muster.

Non-negotiable. For me too.

In the car, I shed a few tears. I wipe them away before I let myself into the house.

An explosion of clatter and babble: BB gives me a sticky hug, LB whimpers and holds out his fleshy arms.

I nuzzle their hair: they smell of baby shampoo, urine and chocolate.

They are my boys, and they deserve to have me to themselves one day a week.

They don’t know or care that I just turned down a job for the luxury of being able to spend a few extra hours a week watching – helping – them grow up. Sharing a baguette in front of Peppa Pig or applauding as they whizz down the big slide for the first time.

And I don’t want them to know or care. That’s my business.

I am sad that this is 2010, and yet, mentalities have not changed as much as we are led to believe.

But that’s not the really sad thing.

The really sad thing would be to sacrifice our Wednesdays to the narrow-mindedness of others, to negotiate the non-negotiable.

A career, yes. But not at any cost.