As promised here is my worst experience with the notion of a stay at home mom. I know it is not an intentional offense on the part of the other person. But none the less it is was one of the first times it became abundantly clear to me what my career is. And it is one that will stick in my memory for a long time.
I dropped off the taxes last year, on extension of course. The longest extension allowable under the law. But, that is the short version of the story.
The long version includes trying to squeeze an hour drive, each way, into a day of naps and feeding schedules for a two year old and infant twins. All of whom had to be loaded into the car at the precise moment their tummies were full, their diapers changed and their moods content.
By the time we arrived the twins were asleep. And I was cringing at the thought of having to load them into their double snap n go. Which would inevitably shake them from their dozing bliss and inspire screaming fits.
But by nothing short of a miracle, I was lucky enough to find a parking spot right in front of the door to the small office. I
bribed convinced my two year old if he stayed quiet we’d get an ice cream cone at the drive thru after I dropped off the papers.
The second he agreed I ran around the front of the car and pulled the door open without stepping inside. The CPA’s assistant was on the other side of the office, so I flagged her down with the oversized envelope containing our financial saga for the year. All the while being very careful to keep enough of my body outside of the door that my toddler would not erupt into a (mom is abandoning me and my siblings forever) panic.
The assistant approached with a confused look on her face as I continued to alternate my eye contact between her and the car. For the sake of simplicity I motion towards the car and tell I have three kids sleeping in the car. And with an endearing smile she grabs the envelope and unceremoniously rifles through the contents.
Just as I’m about to ask if I’m free to go, she turns to me with my husband’s W2 in her hand and asks,”You don’t work?”
I was at a loss. I hadn’t had time to take a shower. I wasn’t sure if I had brushed my teeth. I had spent all morning trying to prepare and pack for this escapade. Did I really look like I sat around on the couch eating bonbons?
I looked back out at the car imagining everyone was screaming by now. And was faced with an hour drive home before I could nurse the twins again. I turned back to her with my most pleasantly pissed off voice and said, “Yes I have three full time jobs and hopefully they are not all awake by now. Is that everything you need?”
“Well of course but you don’t have a W2?”
She was just doing her job. But in my sleep deprived and over worked state it was grating on my every nerve. And the desire to throw something at her head was getting stronger. But fortunately, my five hundred pound diaper bag was safely stowed in the back of the car. So, I just waited for her to check the rest of the papers and left.
Have you ever had to deal with the perceptions of other people that don’t match the reality of your life? Share your story with us. Or link a post you have already written! I’d love to have the company.