Power Moms

In Fortune Magazine this month, there is an article about the 50 most powerful women in business. Reading it makes me feel as small as I feel when I browse the pages of Pottery Barn Kids, and wonder if I've made my children's childhoods meaningless by depriving them of a boat bed with matching everything. How do these women do it, seriously? How are they mommy's and wives and superpowers all in one? How do they get away from their families long enough to make a difference in the world? Who takes care of their kids when they come down with pneumonia? Alex gets pneumonia at least once a winter, and he is, right now, lying in bed after 10 days of coughing out the pneumonia that settled into his right lung. Who would stand with him in the steam shower if I were out being powerful in the world? Who would open the Kleenex to examine the yellow gunk he coughs up between bites of bacon if I were not sitting at the breakfast table? I am in such demand these days that it took me three tries to get my flu shot at Costco. The first two times Alex's school called to tell me he was having a pre-seizure headache and I needed to drop everything and get over there. On the third try, I pretended to be related to the elderly man in front of me, snuck in front of him in line, and snagged his shot before racing off to retrieve one of the children. I could almost hear a sneer from the long flu shot line, "Soccer Moms, you are all the same!" Over the last six years, I have held an internal emotional battle with myself for feeling occasionally dissatisfied with being at home with the kids and not out being something else in the wider world. The other day Izzy said to me, "Really, you worked, Mommy? You really used to work?" Yes, yes I did, once. "What did you DO?" I thought about that one since I didn't really want to lie to the kids, but we don't exactly discuss my previous career. Alex was there too and he was equally as interested. "Mommy used to be Wonder Woman in her younger days, but I gave that all up to be your Mommy." Both kids burst out laughing, proud and completely convinced that I used to carry a golden rope that made everyone tell the truth (if ONLY!). I told them it's our secret, and so it is, and we don't tell anyone else about it. Once in a while they will ask me if I ever did this or that when I was Wonder Woman and of course, I did! The ultimate threat to my children when they misbehave is that I will go back to work and they will have to stay with a nanny. The idea of losing Mommy to the outside working world is simply unimaginable, a nightmare (or nightmirror, as Izzy says). I was feeling particularly argumentative with myself after browsing the Fortune Magazine article and I spent some time looking at the pictures of these women and wondering what it was that made them so powerful. It is hard to read that from a picture. And then last night, as I snuggled next to Alex at bedtime, he suddenly shot up and announced, "Mommy, wake up!" His sudden outburst sent a dozen scenarios racing through my mind. Was he having a seizure, about to vomit, having trouble breathing? "I won!" he shouted. Then I wondered if he had lost his mind. "I won, and you are right, kindergarten is like a game of chess." Then I remembered our conversation from that morning at breakfast. Alex has been very frustrated that his teachers harp on him in the morning to unpack his backpack. He's always the only one not ready for class to begin, because he sits there, bundled up in his mittens and hat, with his enormous backpack sitting in front of him blocking his view of the teacher. He sits and he waits, and he daydreams and eventually, his teachers get after him and he wants to cry. So, I suggested he preempt their admonitions by unpacking before they have a chance to get after him. "Kindergarten is like a game of chess," I explained to our little chess champ. "If you know what moves the other pieces are going to make, you can preempt those moves and go after the king and win." And so he did, and now he wins every morning, and there are no more tears, and in fact he has begun to apply the chess analogy to everyday life. I'm sure Sheryl Sandberg has put a few kings in check mate. I wonder how many she snagged from the kitchen table, in her pajamas. Well, she's a mom, so maybe she's snagged a few at breakfast, too.