Jobless and Addicted to Mothering
I tend towards the compulsive and obsessive. Always have. Said more positively, I am extremely focused.
Recently, a good friend of mine let me know that her pregnant sister was interested in learning more about safe cribs that were free of toxic paints and formaldehyde. My friend’s first thought was, “Well, you’ve got to talk to ‘Stinkerbean’. She loves researching safe baby stuff.”
I received this e-mail requesting my advice at 10 p.m. on a weeknight just before going to bed. There was no rush. She wasn’t in labor and was just shopping around. I couldn’t help myself though. I was exhausted and ready to don my cozy pants, but somehow sleep was suddenly the last thing on my mind. It was as if my fictional editor at The New York Times sent me a delicate assignment involving foreign affairs where the lives of innocent baby pandas hung in the balance.
I haven’t looked at cribs in over two years but plunged right in to the Internet to get my bearings and see what the current market had to offer. I started drafting the “report” in my head while I scanned articles on low-VOC furniture paint and organic mattresses.
This trait served me quite well in school and then later in professional jobs because I took everything so seriously and drove to solutions. But, now my job is being a mother. Since I’m not interested in transferring this manic energy to Lolo, I force it into product research and solicited (sometimes unsolicited) advice of these products.
It’s really absurd how much pleasure I take researching, trying, and testing baby stuff.
So, I sent the e-mail with my whole spiel to my friend’s sister. It was 856 words long and included 16 links. Sixteen links. I knew it would probably (completely) overwhelm her and give the distinct impression that I was a bit off. But I’d rather be perceived as a tad nuts than do a half-hearted write-up. It’s my job.
The exercise forced me to wonder why I do it? What drives me? The job does. It makes me feel like a professional, a functional adult who can speak and write. I may do silly dances in the kitchen while singing in the voice of a bear hungry for scrambled eggs. But, I can still tackle an assignment. That’s when it hit me. I mother via Internet research. If only it came with sick leave and vacation days.
Stinkerbean is a stay-at-home mama, former graphic designer, rabid blogger and major consumer of seltzer water. She says “we are a fun lovin’ family in the big city burbs and only one of us has OCD”.
