Humor
"Mom:" A Fairly Accurate Description
by Patty Donovan
The latest mailing from the alumni office carried a one-two punch.
Amazingly, there was no request for donations – a first. No details about those convenient payment plans that the college accepts. I even rechecked the envelope.
But the college still wanted something from me.
A form filled with blanks was attached to the letter. It likely wasn’t designed to cause distress or even introspection – but it did.
The first blanks were easy enough:
Name (including maiden name) ________________;
Address: ______________________;
Year graduated: ________________;
Major: ________________________;
Then came:
Occupation. A momentary hesitation turned into a two-week procrastination as I debated the answer with myself.
It appears folks in the alumni office had decided to find out if their former classmates led lives as full as their own. So they devised a questionnaire, with the explanation that the completed forms would become the stuff of the school’s first alumni directory.
Envisioning a faceless class reunion captured forever in a "faux leather-covered keepsake," the standard reunion preparation came to mind: lying.
And with 54 occupational codes from which to choose, surely something would sound more interesting, successful and challenging than "HM" for homemaker.
Some items from the list could be eliminated immediately. No "PH" for pharmacist, no "EC" for economist, no "GE" for geologist.
I could cross out "SK" for skilled artisan and "BE" for business entrepreneur.
The "FS" choice for foreign service was tempting. With four sons, I typically feel I’m in some foreign service, speaking a foreign tongue that’s met with blank stares. Still, it sounded too exotic; nobody would ever buy it.
If only they had asked me right out of college, I could have easily indicated "JO" for journalist. A few years later, I would have been able to mark the "TE" choice for teacher. But now? Now what code did I fit?
One occupation stood out: "CN" for consulting. Sure, my clients might be short and they don’t pay well, but the business is steady.
Client 1: Does this shoe go on this foot?
Consultant: Yes (or No, depending).
Client 2: How come they’re singing, "Later on, milk in spider" in the Winter Wonderland song?
Consultant: That’s "Later on, we’ll conspire."
Client 3: If there’s no such thing as ghosts, why is there the word "ghost"?
Consultant: Hmmmmm. (Consultants, you know, don’t always have the answer.)
Client 4: Whrzmlk?
Consultant: It’s in the fridge, right behind your brother’s science experiment.
I realized the futility of searching for a two-letter code to describe these child-filled days and years. The pacifying "homemaker" category is only a nano-notch above the outdated "housewife." Every man, woman and child qualifies as an "HM." Everyone contributes to making some kind of home.
I wanted a code that directory readers wouldn’t dismiss with a "guess she’s not doing anything with her life" response. At the same time, I reminded myself, the handful of friends I’ve stayed in touch with already know what I’m doing. Most importantly, our children know what my job is.
In the end, I checked the last of the 54 boxes – the one marked "Other," and added "MM."
"Mom" would – and does – serve as a fairly accurate description of what I do, who I am and how I spend my days.
Patty Donovan is a Dallas area freelance writer and mother of four boys. You can reach her at donovans@airmail.net
