Climbing the Corporate Ladder - of Motherhood

As far as women go, it’s got to be the oldest profession. No, not that! I’m talking about motherhood. Eve was a mother long before anyone else had time to pursue the other oldest profession.

But I digress. I was about to explore the profession of motherhood. I realize we usually don’t (at least I don’t) refer to motherhood that way – as a profession. Motherhood is a choice, a role, a responsibility, a gift, a privilege – a job, even. But a profession? Hmm. Let’s think about that.

Back in my formative years, I learned that women are supposed to have a

career, with motherhood thrown in on the side – or maybe it’s the other way

around. Either way, motherhood and a career were seen as very different things.

We all recognize that professionals – a.k.a. people with careers – spend their days in corporate America. Practically no one’s even heard of corporate motherhood. I think that’s a shame, because motherhood is

more of career than one might ever imagine.

Just like a career in the corporate world, being a mother takes specific

professional knowledge and expertise. It requires corporate dedication, a

commitment to excellence, the ability to learn on the job and lots and lots of overtime.

People working in the corporate world have to deal with difficult

situations, issues and paradigms. They must dictate policies and procedures, problem-solve and are often called upon to clean up someone else’s mess.

Sounds a lot like motherhood to me. I suggest that mothers everywhere

embrace the sanctity and legitimacy of our careers. We are not merely

professionals, expected to climb the corporate ladder; we are mothers,

expected to climb the food pyramid. Getting a 3-year-old to taste Brussels

sprouts or broccoli spears can be far more demanding than a Friday

afternoon review of balance sheets or billing systems.

Some women worry about corporate takeovers. Mothers worry about playground do-overs. In corporate America, you have the business suit —

in corporate motherhood, the snowsuit.

The segue between career and motherhood can be difficult for some. It

was for me. When I had my first child, I also maintained my first career (of the 9 to 5 variety). Motherhood was beyond my expectations. I found the hours exhausting and the demands far greater than anything I experienced during my other profession.

Being a mother means living in a world where a pump is no longer a shoe,

but a gizmo to harvest milk. Corporate motherhood is a place where annual

reports arrive complete with frosting and a lit candle and the boss often summons you for an important meeting at 2 a.m., not 2 p.m.

After child No. 2 came along, something had to go. I looked at him

and then my favorite business suit and made the difficult choice. I loved my career. I loved my kids more. I know I was lucky to be able to have the decision to make. Many women aren’t in that position.

I had to transition from paychecks to well-baby checks; from boardrooms to

board books – and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I hardly ever got to eat my lunch on time. Morning breaks were a thing of the past; and my boss, who was way, way younger than I, tended to scream a lot. In my professional opinion, it didn’t seem fair.

I missed the old life – when I slept through the night, showered every

morning and where a promotion meant something other than a coupon for wet

wipes. But I knew I was part of this gig for the long haul. I was a company

loyalist, through and through. Besides, my tiny loud boss was growing on me.

So, I did what any good corporate recruit does: I adapted. I sang the company song (which sounded amazingly similar to “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”) and changed the CEO’s diapers. I quit worrying about glass ceilings

and focused on plastic sippy cups – which I began to see as half full.

I found I had advantages and perks I hadn’t known in the corporate world. I

never had a meeting scheduled at the same time as the preschool tour of the

fire station. Every day could be casual Friday. And compensation, while not of the green paper variety, came in the form of sloppy wet kisses and sweet sticky hugs. Over time, I developed quite a fondness for sloppy wet kisses.

I still struggle with the idea of being a stay-at-home mom. Especially when

someone from corporate America asks me if it’s “all” I do. As if being a mother isn’t enough. It is a profession, I tell you. One of the oldest in the books. And something to be proud of.

It is a career that demands flexibility, knowledge and resourcefulness – and where I wrote my first draft of this article in green crayon. If that doesn’t scream professionalism, I don’t know what does.