In the early 1950s, my mother trained as a chemical analyst, determined to secure a fulfilling career and financial independence. She succeeded for years, even after marrying my father. Back then, society viewed it as odd—why pursue such skills if marriage was on the horizon? A dual-income household? Unthinkable; it would surely descend into chaos, like a Jan Steen painting.
When I was born, she naturally stepped away from her career. Unfortunately, that coincided with a boom in her field, one she could never fully recapture.
I've always worked—full-time at first, then four days a week, and now only during school hours. I worry about the gaps: handling acquisitions one moment, picking up a child the next. Summer holidays bring a patchwork of mom/dad days and babysitters, amplifying the stress.
I could outsource it all—after-school care and holiday programs for the oldest, extra nursery for the youngest. Many around me do just that, and it works. But I'd miss so much: playground adventures, storytime, building train tracks, even celebrating potty-training milestones. These moments bring immense joy, so I've chosen to savor them while I can.
What frustrates me most is how women are once again squeezed into rigid expectations.
Sixty years ago, I'd have apologized endlessly for working, with crèches (if available) deemed harmful to children. Today, I'm labeled spoiled, ungrateful for my education by not 'repaying society' full-time.
On 'mommy days,' despite 14-hour shifts and night feeds, I sometimes feel unproductive, contributing nothing tangible. It's absurd how we let societal norms dictate our worth. Why judge each other? Let parents choose what fits their family.
And here's a puzzle: Crèche workers earn for caring for my child, yet if I do it myself, I earn nothing. Why not a basic income for dedicated stay-at-home parents?
It's time to revalue parenting.
