I have trekked the path…

Friends… this is my final entry for American Motherhood. 

While short-lived, this has been an exhilarating journey, full of revelation, of admission and of spirit for me.  I have examined not only who I am as a woman, but who am I as a mother! 

I have trekked the path of the Caucasian woman, molded by society to be submissive to the man, to be the mother of his children, to put the wants and needs of others in a primary position.  To know the agony of the anger I feel, the need for someone to lift the burden, take the weight from my shoulders.  To suffer the loneliness of raising a family alone, to experience the agony of seeking respite from the stressful responsibility of caring for tiny human beings, to know the ultimate ecstasy of what life is all about through the understanding of the undying, unconditional love for my children.

I have trekked the path of the African-American woman, never afforded a moment of rest.  My body used and abused, solely due to the pigment of my skin.  I have picked cotton until my fingertips bled, endured rape by the white sharecropper’s sons, bore children whose fathers were unknown, served as a housekeeper of those who did not appreciate my service, suffered accusations of theft that were untrue, fought to free my children from a life of crime, discrimination and suppressed education; and battled the foes of society simply because I was born black.

I have trekked the path of the Lesbian mother, never considering my own biological composure.  Longing for the satisfaction of motherhood, yet understanding the unyielding force of nature.  Realizing that no matter my inclination, my body is designed to replicate itself, to bear a child.  To understand that I, yes, the lesbian that I am, am worthy of being a mother.  I have enough love in my heart, in my soul, to bring forth from my body, the greatest gift of life itself – a child.

Dawn - 3 yrs old

I have trekked the path… the path of my real life, Dawn's life.  Not fiction or fairy tale.  I have worked all my life, since the age of 14.  I have strived to be the perfect wife, the steadfast mother, the impeccable employee.  I have struggled far more than my family will ever understand to create a happy home, to give my children the best in life, to create for the world a legacy that will live on far after all that remains of me are ashes in the ocean.  I have tried my damnedest to be Super Woman!

I have trekked the path.  Not a day goes by that I fail to give thanks for my life, which in comparison to others has been relatively easy.  When I complain about all I have on my plate, I pause to consider others and realize that I have been blessed!



Our wedding day - 1977



Not a day goes by that I fail to give thanks for my husband of 33 years, who has never sought the company of another woman since I met him 35 years ago.  The man who understands my challenges at work and at school, prepares me dinner when I work late, shops for all the groceries because I am studying,  does his own laundry because he knows I don't have the time and even washes the dishes while I seclude myself finishing my academic pursuits.  The man who loving takes my hand to dance, almost every weekend; our bodies in sync to the rhythm, our eyes staring at one another, our hearts entwined forever.



My Dad & I at my birthday party



Not a day goes by that I fail to appreciate my Father, who throughout my life taught me what it means to be a loving parent.  To give a little, but love a lot - to communicate where the boundaries lie - to stare into his eyes; and see myself.  The father who worked all his life to fill my world with materials, who was present for every major event in my life, in my children's lives, exemplifying what family truly means.  The man who faithfully stood by my mother's side for every doctor's appointment, every dose of chemo, every radiation treatment.  Who changed the urine soaked sheets, cleaned the carpet after her stomach refused to contain a drop and stopped working for over two years to attend to her needs.  Who spent long sleepless nights by her side until her body could endure no more.  Who, upon her passing at 3:30am, asked my brother and I to hold hands, encircling her still warm, yet graying body as he prayed to commend her spirit to Almighty God, confident in the knowledge that he would see her again.  All the years of planning, of working, of dreaming of the golden years ahead, to be spent with his soul mate, his wife of 46 years, suddenly snuffed out by cancer, leaving him alone to face a new world, full of solitude and reflection.

My daughters circa 1983, Holly in back, Hailly in front

Not a day goes by that I fail to offer the utmost highest gratitude for the blessing of my beloved daughters.  It is for them that I live, that I sojourn on.  For as I gave them life, so they gave me the desire to live.  They are my life’s work, my pride, my passion, my joy.  My sacrifices, my efforts, were all for them.  I continue to live and breathe for them, although they have their own lives and successful careers.  They are my greatest joy.  I feel that I was created to create them.  They have fulfilled me, loved me and continue to sustain me as I approach the end of my days on this earth.  They owe me nothing, as they have given me more affection, more delight, more fulfillment than I ever dreamed possible.  

My beautiful, intelligent daughters: Dr. Hailly - Audiologist on left, Dr. Holly - Cardiologist on right



My husband Rich & I - April 2010

I am a wife.  A Southern wife who was raised to make others comfortable and welcome before looking after myself.  A wife who has been fortunate enough to know the love and dedication of a good husband.  To endure the good times and the bad.  To realize that nothing is worth coming between us except infidelilty - which thankfully we have not experienced.

I am a mother.  I am blessed by being a mother.  My mission on this earth is to be a mother.

My life's greatest reward is being a mother.  Writing the entries in this blog, examining the strife of women throughout the history of America, has caused me to greatly appreciate my heritage, the sacrifices of all women in the US, and develop a greater understanding of the gaps of American History which affords no credit whatsoever to the brave, courageous women who created the great nation we rever today.

Because I am a mother: Love, happiness and gratification surround me eternally!



My wonderful family! left to right: Dr. Hailly, Dawn, Rich, Dr. Holly



I remember....

I remember. 

I remember when people who were not heterosexual were called queers.  When people would physically harm them, even kill them, because they were different.  I remember when, in the name of the Lord, those amongst us whose bodies marched to a different drummer were chastised and banned from the church, from society, to live their secret lives in darkness.   I remember.

I remember. 

I remember when I thought their sexual nature was their choice.  I remember when I realized that their propensity was not optional. I remember when I knew in my heart that my friends were different, yet they longed to be ‘normal.’  I remember when I defended them against the cries of others, professing their integrity against all odds.  I remember the agony, the discomfort of witnessing them living in their bodies.  I remember the alcoholism, the drug abuse, the suicidal nature…. which sometimes won.  I remember the pain, the tragedy of the rejection, alas - the heartache of losing a loved one, witnessing them slowly destroy themselves, simply because the world did not understand them.  I remember the horror, the pain of one unable to tolerate the isolation, the criticism.  I remember their decision to exit this earth.  I remember the agony of wondering why I could not have stopped them.  I remember the guilt. 

I remember…. And I still cry.

I remember. 

I remember when I realized that it was not a choice… that it was biological.  I remember how I vehemently fought their oppressors.  How I loved them for who they were, comforted them, cried with them and for them.  I remember how I gave them my undying love… yet, worried that it would not be enough to sustain them through life.  I remember how I embraced them, shedding tears.  Yet my tears were a mere drop in an ocean of sadness that they had already cried.  I remember rejoicing that the world had become a place of acceptance, of understanding.  I remember when they came out of the proverbial closet.  I remember when life became worth living for them, no longer ashamed, no longer despised, no longer scorned.

I remember. 

I remember.. And finally I rejoiced!

She is a beautiful woman, full of life, love and grace.  So why, tell me, just because her biological chemistry tells her that she is lesbian, should she be deprived of the privilege of becoming a mother? 

It is 2010, and thankfully, we have moved far past the cultural rejection of lesbian mothers and gay dads. 

I must admit to you that as a woman, I felt a calling.  Much like a preacher feels ‘the call,’ for me, it was instinctive, almost animal.  I wanted a baby, I needed a baby, to make my life complete.  Once I was presented with that blessed child, it changed my life forever.  My life’s mission, here to forward, was to craft that being into a productive citizen.  To give the world a gift… the gift of my precious child who could change the world!

So, why, I ask you, should the calling be any different for a woman whose biological propensity is different?  Whose preference in a partner is not one of the male gender?  Are her hormones different than mine?  Are her desires to propagate, to be fruitful and multiply as were mine?  Does she not feel the same motherly desire as I did?

Technology has been the answer for many women who are… OK, I am going to finally say it… lesbian.  Through in vitro fertilization, many lesbian couples are able to bear children, biological children, to complete their families.  While some still opt for the male partner, most turn to artificial insemination to impregnate one of the females in the couple, thereby producing offspring.  Offspring with two Moms. 



Cherrie Moraga



If you have not read the writings of Cherie Moraga, I encourage you to take a peek.  Cherie is a lesbian who became involved with a partner who had a child.  She became extremely attached to the young child and loved him beyond belief.  When the relationship with his biological mother ended, she mourned the loss of his company, of his love, and of her maternal relationship with him.  She realized that, although she was a butch lesbian, she longed for a child of her own.  A being born of herself, crafted in her image, to whom she would never again be parted.  At the age of 40, she bore the child that fulfilled her destiny.  She described her son as “waiting in the wings,” waiting for her to open her heart to him, to give him life… to fulfill her life! 

Welcome to 2010, my friends; when parents are not Ozzie and Harriett. 
When by the grace of technology, what is not humanly possible is possible.  

And yet, I still remember!

Black women have always worked, always

I never really stopped to think about the work of African-American women.  To understand the depth and realization that black women have always worked, always. 

African-American women were originally brought to the US as slaves, enduring a life of hardship and misery.  If she was not suffering under the blistering Southern sun in the fields, she was tending to the house of her Master.  As a female slave, rape and sodomy were commonplace.  African-American women often bore children who were fathered by their Masters or other white men who forced themselves on the slave women.  Family ties were discouraged amongst slave women, as it was too hard to lose someone they loved.  Families were split apart when black children were sold at the slave market.  Husbands and partners were often sold or bartered to another plantation.  The life of a slave woman was only 33.6 years and only two of three black children who were born between 1850 to 1860 survived to age 10.  Black women have always worked, always.

Once emancipation freed the slave women, black women found themselves entrenched in one of two roles, either working the fields or domestic work, both extremely low paying jobs.  As more girls entered into domestic work, so did the threat of sexual harassment, as black women were considered easy marks for all men.  Due to the low wages paid to black men in the late 1800s, black women had to work to support the family.  In most cases, black women were live-in maids, whose services may be called upon 24 hours a day.  Black women have always worked, always.

In the early 1900s, Blacks moved about, some departing the South for the big Northern cities.  The role of the black community changed, as did the distinct areas where blacks congregated: men took to the barber shops, pool halls and sidewalks, while women gathered in household and churches.  Women continued to serve as domestic workers, working days for white families.   The level of respect paid to the black ‘maid’ at the time was virtually nil, as black women were still subject to widespread sexual harassment, were accused of being dishonest, were forced to wear uniforms, suffered inquisitions regarding their personal lives and were not included in the conversation of the whites, even if they were present in the room.  Black women formed tight community bonds with their sisterhood, often caring for one another’s child while the other worked.  This reliance upon each other was deeply rooted in the church and black women thought nothing of housing or raising other women’s children, if it was what needed to be done.   Black women have always worked, always.

After World War II, the life of the black women should have been enhanced, as blacks finally had access to education, housing and jobs that had been restricted under segregation.  Particularly during the 1940s and 1950s, when Caucasian middle class families enjoyed the luxury of the stay-at-home Mom, most had a ‘housekeeper’ who was a kind black lady, who cooked, cleaned and did the laundry.  Often the ‘housekeeper’ would tend to the children and prepare the meals as well.  This was her full-time day job, working for white families.  Black women have always worked, always.

The advent of the 1980s brought about massive change for the black woman.  It was more common to find single mothers bearing the burden of providing a roof over their heads and food on the table for their families.  In large cities, drugs made the black neighborhoods unsafe, and African-American women struggled to provide a life for their children free from violence, drugs and poverty.  Leith Mullings states that “Central Harlem in the early 1990s found 69 percent of all families with children to be headed by women, and 54.3 percent of these families living below the poverty line.”[1] Gone were the black communities that watched out for other women’s children.  In this dog eat dog world, it was up to each single mother to protect her brood and find whatever work she could.  Black women have always worked, always.

Today’s black women work in a variety of roles, from executives to low paid service work.  Patricia Hill Collins groups working class women into two categories: “those with good jobs in industry and the government sector who constitute the core of the Black working class, and those in low-paid, intermittent service work, who often end up among the ‘working poor.’”[2]  Black women have always worked, always.

 Tracing the steps of the African-American women’s short history in the United States, I garnered a complete understanding of why black women look out for their own.  Why these “othermothers” became so important in the lives of so many black children, reliant upon the black neighbors to care for them while their mother worked so diligently to provide for her family. 

I then considered the aura of the white middle class woman, independent and private.  Relying upon an “othermother” to care for the white child would be an admission by the white woman that she was not capable of her motherly duties.  Even for white women who worked full-time outside of the home, the prevailing notion of the pride a white woman possesses makes her incapable of relying upon others to provide any relief from her motherly duties.  Consequently, white women are overly stressed, often unable to cope with the demands of motherhood.  Imagine what a welcome respite just a few hours of peace would be for the mother of infants, yet the white community shuns any such relief. 

Not that African-American mothers don't experience the same over-taxing stress and demands of motherhood, alas through their sense of community and need to have caretakers for their children because they always work, "othermothers" stepped in to help raise black children and care for them while Mom was at work.

I think the Black “othermothers” got it right, as truly “It takes a village to raise a child!”

Works Cited

Collins, Patricia Hill. "Work, Family and Black Women's Oppression." Collins, Patricia Hill. Black Feminist Thought. New York, New York: Routledge, 2000. 335.

Mullings, Leith. "Households Headed by Women." Mullings, Leith. On Our Own Terms: Race, Class and Gender in the Lives of African American Women. New York, NY: Routledge, 1997. 202.

[1] (Mullings)

[2] (Collins)

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The best is yet to come...

It has been nearly a week since I have posted or updated here on my blog.  Trust me, thoughts have been swirling, but my mind has been buried in a term paper that was due today for an ethics class.  I continue to work about 11 hours each day at my full-time job, and I love my sporatic social life which included a wonderful wedding last Saturday. 

My plans are to post a few more blogs by Saturday (10/9).

So, this quick note is to say hold on... the best is yet to come.  And it will arrive within 3 days!

Promise to my children....

A PROMISE TO MY CHILDREN

I will stalk you,
freak out on you,
lecture you,
drive you crazy,
be your worst nightmare,
embarrass you in front of your friends,
hunt you down like a bloodhound until the day you understand why I do it.
Then I will know you are a responsible adult.
All because I  LOVE  YOU.
You will never find someone who loves you and cares about you more than your mom.

A Mother's Child

 A mother's child is every breath that she takes,
walking hand in hand, they are every step that she makes.

And as their steps will grow to strides,
still a child, in mother's eyes.

Every ache and pain they shall feel,
mother will share and with love she will kneel.

She will pray to God to take care of her child,
to protect and guide them through every mile.

Her child is the very core of her soul,
from baby in arms to an adult they will grow.

For to a mother, her child will stay,
the precious infant she held that day.

What Causes Women To Harm Their Children?

                Homicide is the leading cause of death in children under four. While many believe that Sudden Infant Death Syndrome is the leading cause of infants, the truth is that infanticide by a parent is the number one killer.  Nancy Scheper-Hughes, a professor of Anthropology and director of the program in Medical Anthropology at the University of California at Berkeley describes three types of Post Partum Depression. 

                The least threatening is “baby blues,” consisting of episodes of crying and mild mood swings typically addressed without medication or treatment.  This condition is often resolved by participating in a support group.^[1]

                The onset of “Postpartum depression” occurs from a few days to a few months after childbirth.  Symptoms include extreme depression, sadness, despair and hopelessness that are so severe that it impairs the mother’s ability to cope.  Treatment is typically counseling and often medication

                The most serious mental condition is a deep depression seen within three months following childbirth.  “Postpartum psychosis” presents in a mother who is experiencing a detachment from reality and often is accompanied by hallucinations and delusions.  Medication and extended hospitalization is required.

                The most highly publicized case of postpartum psychosis occurred in Andrea Yates, the Texas mother who methodically drown all five of her children in her bathtub.  Tragically, Yates was hospitalized with postpartum depression following the birth of all of her children.   

                Mike Rustigan, a criminologist who teaches at San Francisco State University states, “The majority of the cases are impulse killings, like the classic shaken-baby syndrome in which a mother acts out of a spark of rage or frustration.”  Rustigan states that covering the mouth of a crying child often ends with the infant being suffocated.  He adds, “About 30% are premeditated murder, named Medea killings after an ancient Greek myth, a mother kills to punish someone like a cheating or abusive husband.“^[2]

                Some mothers end the lives of their children because they are impeding their freedom or happiness.  The classic case of a narcissistic mother is Susan Smith, South Carolina woman who caused her vehicle to roll into a lake with her two baby boys strapped in their car seats.   Smith initially claimed that her children were car-jacked, but the truth revealed that she committed the act to free herself from the burden of raising her children. 

                The United Kingdom decades ago addressed the issue of post partum depression with the passage of the Infanticide Act.  The Infanticide Act 1922 effectively abolished the death penalty for a woman who deliberately killed her new born child while the balance of her mind was disturbed as a result of giving birth, by providing a partial defense to murder. The sentence that applies (as in other partial defenses to murder) is the same as that for manslaughter.^[3] This Act was repealed and was replaced by The  Infanticide Act 1938 which extended this defense to cases where "at the time of the act or omission the balance of her mind was disturbed by reason of her not having fully recovered from the effect of giving birth to the child or by reason of the effect of lactation consequent upon the birth of the child."^[4]  Before the partial murder defense of diminished responsibility was introduced to English law in the Homicide Act 1957, this provided an important means of selecting a more appropriate sentence for a mother found guilty of killing her infant than the mandatory life sentence or death sentence applying to murder at the time.

                While these are just a few examples of why mothers take the lives of their children, there are other reasons based on unique situations such as the sacrifice of weak or female children in countries that experience destitute poverty, famine or political unrest. 

                Tragically, more than 200 women kill their children in the United States every year.^[5]

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[1] (Harkness)

[2] (Costantinou)

[3] (Kingdom)

[4] (Kingdom)

[5] (Harkness)

Costantinou, Marianne. "Why Mothers Kill Their Kids." The San Francisco Chronicle/Examiner 26 March 1998: A.

Harkness, Sara. "The Cultural Mediation of Postpartum Depression." Medical Anthology Quarterly (1987): 194-209.

Kingdom, The Parliament of the United. "Infanticide Bill." millbanksystems.com. 29 September 2010 <http://hansard.millbanksystems.com/lords/1938/mar/22/infanticide-bill-hl (Kingdom)>.

Women who have killed their own children: 

·         Patricia Blackmon was 29 years old when she killed her 2-year-old adopted daughter in Dothan, AL in May 1999.

·         Debra Jean Milke was 25 when she killed her 4-year-old son in Arizona in 1989.

·         Dora Luz Durenrostro killed her two daughters, age 4 and 9, and her son, age 8, when she was 34 years old in San Jacinto, California in 1994.

·         Caro Socorro was 42 years old when she killed her three sons, ages 5, 8 and 11, in Santa Rosa Valley, California in 1999.

·         Susan Eubanks murdered her four sons, ages 4, 6, 7 and 14, in San Marcos, California, in 1996 when she was 33.

·         Caroline Young was 49 in Haywood, California when she killed her 4-year-old granddaughter and 6-year-old grandson.

·         Robin Lee Row was 35 years old when she killed her husband, her 10-year-old son and her 8-year-old daughter in Boise, Idaho in 1992.

·         Michelle Sue Tharp was 29 years old in Burgettstown, Pennsylvania when she killed her 7-year-old daughter.

·         Frances Elaine Newton was 21 when she murdered her husband, 7-year-old son and 2-year-old daughter in Houston, Texas. Update: Frances Elaine Newton was executed on September 14, 2005.

·         Darlie Lynn Routier was 26 in Rowlett, Texas when she was convicted of killing her 5-year-old son.

·         Teresa Michelle Lewis killed her 51-year-old husband and 26-year-old step son in Keeling, Virginia when she was 33 years old.

·         Kenisha Berry at age 20, covered her 4-day-old son with duct tape resulting in his death.

Should a mother’s efforts be counted in the GNP

“How did we ever come to believe that it was more important for somebody to have a meaningless job than to raise their children well?  This doesn’t make sense even in simple accounting terms.”

– Robert Theobald,  in Reworking Success



Women and their labors have always been an afterthought, discarded efforts like the daily trash.  No matter the sacrifice and the amount of struggle, it was just what women were supposed to do.  So why has no one placed value in the valiant efforts that millions of women produce on a daily basis?  To be honest, women’s work doesn’t produce any benefit to the GNP (Gross National Product) of any nation.  GNP measures ‘tangible’ income, such as profits derived by companies and units produced by industry.  GNP does not measure ‘intangibles’ such as new innovations, care provided to the elderly by a family member, or the 18+ year job of raising a responsible human being from birth to adulthood.  The GNP process and its creator, Sir Richard Stone, was awarded the Nobel Prize for initiating the first ever measuring stick for establishing  a rating system for nations to measure their volume of monetary transactions.  The only problem is that there are many efforts that produce value for a nation that foregoes monetary reimbursement. 

Ann Crittenden, in her work The Truly Invisible Hand writes, “Women have always had a hard time being “counted.”  The verb “to count” has several meanings: “to matter, “ “to make a difference, “ “to enumerate.”  Women have long been regarded as deficient in all of these ways, including the idea that they are not very good at math.  But in the days when men were still the undisputed heads of the household, there was great respect for the activity that takes place in the home – and recognition that it did, in fact, generate wealth.  The very word “economics” derives from the Greek rook oikonomia, the management of the household.  Aristotle had the highest regard for oikonomia and made an important distinction between it and chrematistics.  Oikonomia referred to the management of a household so as to increase its use value to all of its members over the long run. Chrematistics was the manipulation of the property and wealth so as to maximize short-term exchange values.” [1]

So, I must admit that first of all, I take offense to the statement that women are not good at math.  Many women handle the financial end of unions, whether tied by marriage or not.  Furthermore, my oldest daughter made a perfect score on the math section of the SAT, so that blows that theory completely out of the water for me!  Not to mention that I made an A in Calculus & Physics!  But, then as we all know, women are verbal, not logical (yea, right)!

Karen L. Hooks and Shirley J. Cheramy in the Journal of Accountancy state, "Firms with 20 or fewer AICPA members hired a greater proportion of females.  These results are consistent with the annual AICPA (American Institute of CPAs) Supply of Accounting Graduates and Demand for Accounting Recruits studies, which found that since the mid-1980s, more than half of the accounting graduates--and since the late 1980s, about half of public accounting entry-level hires--have been women. These results support the perception that gender parity seems solid at the entry level." (Hooks)[2]

At the heart of the matter is the fact that work performed by women and mothers is considered ‘free.’   It has no monetary value and does not contribute to the GNP of their native country.  Quite frankly, nothing counts in the GNP unless it is bought for a price and sold for a price!  So that bodes the question, do mother’s efforts really contribute to society, in that their work should be counted in the GNP?

Crittenden debates that “Conscientious mothers, motivated by feelings of compassion and love, nurture, protect and train children for adulthood.  Fathers, other female caregivers, and relatives may play a part in this process, but mothers have the primary role.  Their altruism, and willingness to do all that they can for their offspring, left unfettered, will be guided as if by an invisible hand to produce healthy children who will become the productive, enterprising economic men and women of the future.  Conscientious mothers, in other words, are the contemporary practitioners of oikonomia: the building and preservation of long-term communal value that used to be the essence of economics.”[3]

It is important to note that the quality of the first years of the life of child has shown to directly impact the future human intellectual and emotional capabilities of the child.  Research in Child Development has pinpointed that “the care and guidance of the young child lays the essential groundwork for the formation of human knowledge, skills, creativity and entrepreneurship.” [4] Ergo, human capabilities that produce human capital… i.e., the people that make money, are dependent upon the mother figure.  Crittenden states that “human capital – or human capabilities – is an even more important component of a nation’s riches than natural capital (land, minerals, water) or physical capital (bricks and mortar, machines, roads).  “[5]

I conclude with this thought.  Crittenden states that “The prevailing assumption is that the formation of productive skills begins with the formal education, when a child goes off to school.  Somehow, in the abstract world of economics, curious babies spontaneously evolve into eager students, ready to read and write.”[6]

To support Crittenden’s stance, I firmly believe that “I” created the people that my children are today!  If you think that my girls emerged from my uterus being gifted or uniquely talented, you are wrong! The positive environment encouraging curiosity that they experienced from birth to age 5 created the individuals who developed a thirst for knowledge at such a young age… to know how to count, to repeat the alphabet, and even read, by the time their seat was assigned in kindergarten! It was the years that I struggled to pay for them to attend to NASA Space Camp, to take ballet, explore music, and to enroll in algebra classes in the summer rather than hanging out at the pool. Those were the experiences that created the women who are well respected doctors today, aiding patients as their hearts fail and enabling the gift of hearing to those who have lost that sense.

I so vividly remember the parent-teacher conference when my older daughter was in the 2^nd grade.  I was cognizant that this teacher was having no impact on the future development of my child as she looked straight at me and said,”Mrs. Humphrey, I am paid by the State of North Carolina to teach the Second Grade.  If your child performs at a sixth grade level that is not my problem.”  I firmly believe that I created, within the first five years of her life, the child who excels, who surpasses the ordinary, who reaches for the stars.  But my tax dollars only pay for the ordinary, the mediocre. 

It was not the secondary education, or the universities who produced my daughters’ intelligence, talent & determination… it was my efforts during their first years of life; creating an environment of discovery, of awakening, of curiosity, that produced the fine women who on a daily basis serve the needs of others.  I must admit that I did not take credit for their success until I was well into my forties, when I suddenly looked at my life and said… hey, I did this, me and me alone!  I created these masterpieces!  So, why I am I not as revered as Michelangelo or Botticelli?

Now, I ask you… should a mother’s efforts be counted in the GNP of a nation?  Why shouldn’t our work be valued – counted in the production of our nation?  Surely, I did my job to increase the GNP… why are my years of dedication to the next generation not worth anything on the bottom line? 

 Please comment if you think your efforts should be valuable enough to be counted in the economic value of the nation.

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Works Cited

Crittenden, Ann. The Price of Motherhood. New York, NY: Metropolitan Books, 2001.

Hooks, Karen L. Hooks and Cheramy, Shirley J. "Facts and Myths about Women CPAs." Journal of Accountancy 178 (1998).

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[1](Crittenden 66-67)

[2] (Hooks & Chermany)

[3] (Crittenden 68)

[4](Crittenden 71)

[5](Crittenden 71)

[6](Crittenden 74)