Aren't ALL moms working moms????

From what I can tell and have experienced, there are three types of moms ( I am not talking about Mrs. Cleaver, Mrs. Munster and Mommy Dearest - we will address those later I am sure) There is the stay at home mom, the work from home mom and the working mom. Between the two of us, we have experienced all three. Let's dissect today's mom.....

The working mom - I think we can all agree that the name alone is a huge misnomer. This should be an example of "redundant" in the dictionary. Aren't ALL moms working? For the sake of argument, this mom is the "work outside the home mom" (aka: WOHM); The moms who leave the home, and return with a paycheck.

The alarm clock goes off at the ass crack of dawn to an obnoxious song that she only knows two lines to and will be stuck in her head all day, but who doesn't love Brittany Spears at 5 am, right?? Most WOHMs will get themselves ready before even attempting to arouse the children, because once they are up there is no hope of doing anything for herself. No chance of putting on mascara because someone can't find the shirt they so desperately NEED to wear. No chance of changing shoes because the baby just dumped Cheerios all over the kitchen floor. No chance of packing herself anything to eat because today they've decided they don't WANT peanut butter, they want ham and why do I always have to eat fruit at school??? She looks as if she hasn't gotten ready yet because she dons a robe OVER her suit so that no one can get any bananas, snot or Gogurts on it as she is coercing her semi-awake children to eat something. She then tackles the task of attempting to put some form of an outfit on their bodies. It is like dressing a wet noodle..or a chihuahua on crack depending on the mood that day; unfortunately someone always ends up crying (even the mom which will really piss her off especially if she was actually lucky enough to get her mascara on that day). When the mom leaves the home, more often than not she is wrestling one or more kids (somewhat lethargic, therefore fairly cooperative), diaper bags, briefcases, laptops, lunches, drycleaning, a cup of coffee (which will end up dumped before even leaving the garage) and the "show-n-tell" hamster into the car...generally before 7:30am. Then she drops off the more awake, less cooperative child/children at school and or daycare where they HOPEFULLY (no guarantee) can get out of the door with no tantrums (tantrums=snot on clean suit not to mention heart-wrenching mommy guilt) or any other random child spewing something on them; because let's face it...we all think other kids seem to produce more fluorescent colored putresence than your average pitbull.

The commute is typically the WOHMs only chance to "relax" for the day. The term relax being used very loosely because most commutes may or may not be sprinkled with mild swearing at other drivers not nearly as adept at maintaining a decent speed while the mom completes her make-up regimen at 65 MPH. It is during this drive that if she's lucky, she can shove in a granola bar that she found in her purse and listen to HER radio station (although I will admit to driving all the way to work SEVERAL times singing along to Veggie Tales or reciting lines right along with Lightning McQueen...with no kids in the car). Once at work, she makes the requisite quick check in the back to make sure there aren't any strays. She puts in a full day of meetings, voice mail, email, regular mail, maybe a desk lunch,and perhaps a bathroom break. She is away from her kids, who smile up at her angelically from the handmade macaroni frame on her desk, yet somehow they manage to creep into her day several times. I'm not talking about her wistful thoughts of "I wonder what my babies are doing right now" or "I miss my kids". Nope, I'm talking about the phone call during a meeting asking where in the diaper bag the extra nipples are...ever used the word NIPPLE in front of your boss and colleagues?? Try it. Or the email from the teacher wondering if child #1 is allowed to go on the field trip because a permission slip was never returned and oh by the way, can you still help make costumes for the class play? Yet she is still the model of efficiency at work, breezing through her day marvelling at how much she enjoys her career...all so she can leave and beat the traffic to pick up aforementioned children who are now awake but VERY tired and have saved up all of the whining, crying, and fighting just for home.

Ahhhh....The joy of getting cranky, tired, hungry children into the house while she makes dinner, helps with homework, builds block towers, answers more emails and voicemails, pays the bills, does the laundry, dresses 12 Barbies for a party, feeds the dog, calms the panicked child about the show-n-tell hamster forgotten at school, and packs 4 diaper bags and backpacks for the next day. And this is a calm night without a stop at the grocery store, soccer practice or a school concert. ALL HELL BE DAMNED!! The grocery store. She just remembered it is her turn for daycare snack. The morning routine will have to begin a BIT earlier tomorrow...better get to bed after one more load of laundry, loading the dishwasher, a few more emails, finding the favorite shirt that she promised would be ready for tomorrow, and another layer of paint on the science project volcano. Ahhh...bed time. And there is that damn song again....