Motherhood and Apple Pie

In my lifetime the phrase about motherhood and apple pie has slipped from basic truth to bemusement to derision. Coincidently, the role of mother also slipped in favor, so I don’t think the change is due to a changing appreciation of apples.

In my twenties, I was unusual because I received a B.A. before marriage. Most of my friends earned their M.R.S. within two or three years and dropped out of college. I was also unusual in that I had four children at a time population alarmists self-righteously assaulted me in the mall or on the street with, “Whatever were you thinking?” Others more subtly made vague references about Southern women staying barefoot and pregnant. Both friends and strangers raised eyebrows whenever the six of us appeared together in public.

By thirty, I began to meet feminists at cocktail parties who wondered aloud why I wasted my potential as an educated woman to stay home and change diapers. They seldom allowed me to explain how much I enjoyed teaching my children and how little time I actually spent changing diapers.

By my forties I noticed that young girls were afraid to mention that they really wanted to get married and have a family. Only prodding from a sympathetic listener could get them to admit that a life spent as a computer programmer, for example, was not really their hearts’ desire. But society demanded that they approach life with career foremost in their mind.

As I approached sixty, I met more and more young women who had pursued the lucrative jobs as prescribed by our culture, but with fertility clocks ticking, wanted to get pregnant more than anything else. Of what value are two Mercedes in the garage if there is no baby to cuddle in your arms?

Now that I have turned seventy, I can look back on several careers: high school teacher, homemaker, publicist, software trainer, university lecturer, and advisor. Without doubt the most challenging, most compelling, and most fulfilling one was that of homemaker. It allowed me to develop, to experiment, to create, and to teach with few constraints.

It offered more rewards than annual raises or recognition at faculty meetings. I left the university with several students telling me that they learned more from me than anyone else during their college career. As great as that accolade was, nothing compares to watching my four children and knowing that I helped give them their start in life.

My only regret now is that I didn’t have eight.