An Open Letter to Amy Glass

I read a blog recently that made me mad. And then it made me sad. The writer, Amy Glass, wrote an article titled 'I Look Down On Young Women With Husbands And Kids And I’m Not Sorry.'

The first time I read it, I felt like the breath was being sucked out of me. And I wondered if maybe I reacted so strongly because I was afraid she was right (she isn't, by the way). So I read it again. And then I left it alone for a day or two, and then I read it again.

You can read her blog here, but basically what she says is a stay-at-home Mom isn't worth as much as one who works outside the home. Two statements she makes that stand out to me are:

"You will never have the time, energy, freedom or mobility to be exceptional if you have a husband and kids."

and

"Women will be equal with men when we stop demanding that it be considered equally important to do housework and real work. They are not equal. Doing laundry will never be as important as being a doctor or an engineer or building a business."

In a subsequent blog, after more than 2000 people commented on her words (you think?), she wrote: 

"I can’t help but think of my own life and how easy it would have been to morph into that role and I chose to chase my dreams instead. This is my own experience, so I can’t help but think there are lots of other women who felt compelled to fill that role whether or not that’s what they really wanted. Not questioning their social role feels weak to me, and it’s hard not to look down on someone you think is weak."

Ironically, in yet another blog, written only a few days before the one that was heard around the world, she says:

"This means that as good feminists, we never judge the choices of other women." 

Perhaps, she meant to say "we never judge the choices of other women, as long as we agree with their choices."


But I digress.

I am certain Amy Glass has better things to do than read what a stay-at-home blogging wife and mother has to say, being that she's so busy with her career and all, but if she DID by chance happen to stumble across this blog (which she won't), here's what I would say:

Dear Amy,

I admit I was a bit taken aback by your words about women who choose to stay home. which, I'm gathering, was your intent. I'm not sure why I was so stirred by what you said, because technically you weren't even speaking to me. I mean, I am a mother and I do stay home, but I also make a respectable living while staying home (and I'm not exactly young), so I assume I have earned some measure of approval from you.

Whether or not your comments were addressed to me or not is irrelevant. You were speaking directly to many of my friends, who gave up outstanding careers to wipe noses and fold laundry instead, and we kind of tend to look out for each other. Poke one of us and we'll all respond.

When I first read what you said about women who stay home not being on equal footing with their career-driven counterparts, I was mad. Mad because deep down I was afraid you might be right. But after I mulled it over a bit, I realized, thankfully, you are completely wrong. Whew. That's a relief.

But while I am absolutely certain you are completely off the mark, I don't hold that against you. I actually feel a bit of sympathy for you. Your reaction was so strong, and so harsh, that my guess is there's a void in your life, something missing, that you can't fill, and so you think if you scream loud enough, and convince enough people it isn't there, maybe it will go away.

That's probably not working out too well for you, is it?

Here's the thing, Amy. I have a lot of friends who are mothers. A lot. And some of them happily went back to the work force as soon as their maternity leave was up. Some of them made the gut-wrenching decision to go back to work because their family needed the income, but they hate that they are away from their little munchkins so much. Some of them stay home and get up crazy early in the morning (me) to bring in extra income so they can stay home. And some of them were happy to cash in their paychecks for more play dates.

And you know what? They're all really good parents. Because here's the thing -- what's right for one isn't right for all.

Yes, I could go get a 40 hour a week job (which in most cases would be more like a 50 hour week), and bring in enough money so we could go on real vacations instead of just trips home to see my family, and we could drive something newer than a 2003 Ford pick-up, and I wouldn't drive to Aldi every Wednesday to buy their $1.50 strawberries and $2.00 bag of apples. But that wasn't the right decision for our family. Having two full-time incomes is the right decision for some, but it just wasn't for us.

(And I won't even ask what you think of men who give up their careers to stay home so their wife can go to work, but trust me, it happens -- a lot).

You wrote,  "Women secretly like to talk about how hard managing a household is so they don’t have to explain their lack of real accomplishments."

Oh, Amy.

I've done a lot in my life. I've had plenty of different jobs. I've worked with violent juvenile delinquents. I've done on-call crisis, where I sometimes worked for 24 hours straight. I've spoken at seminars, waitressed, managed an office, started a business, interviewed more than 75 celebrities and written thousands of entertainment news articles online.

This, being a Mommy, really is the hardest job I've ever done. Not hard like, I don't have time to get a manicure. Hard like, this little person wants my attention all. the. time, and I just want to sit for five minutes and not talk about Thomas the Tank Engine or read Corduroy Goes to the Doctor, and maybe go to the bathroom all by myself.

I don't work as much as I used to. Partly by choice, partly not. But, I've had a lot of career accomplishments. I'm blessed, and I don't take that lightly. When a major news outlet picks up one of my stories, I feel happy. When I interview a high-profile artist and it goes well, and I didn't stammer or spill my coffee and they seemed to really enjoy themselves, I get a high. I'm not going to lie. It's awesome.

But you know when I feel the most successful?

When at the end of the day, after my son is in bed, I realize I never once used a tone with him I regret. When he ate three square meals, had healthy snacks,  a variety of activities to fill his day, and I never got impatient with him, when I got on the floor and played with him instead of letting the Wiggles keep him entertained, THAT, my friend, is a successful day. The rest of it -- all of it -- is fluff to me. Like the icing on the cake, when the cake is already really, really good.

I'd give up an interview with Taylor Swift or a fancy schmancy post-awards party to cuddle with my child any day of the week. And not feel one ounce of regret.

I realize you don't know me, so my words mean nothing to you. But I'm sure you've heard of Ivanka Trump, daughter of gazillionaire Donald Trump. She has a lot of fancy titles, including  Executive Vice President of Development and Acquisitions at The Trump Organization, as well as a high-end fashion designer. She has a swanky office on Park Avenue, and probably owns clothing that cost more than my house.

While I'm certain Ivanka and I share very few similarities when it comes to our views on parenting, I do appreciate what she says about taking care of our children.

“I think the expression ‘working’ versus ‘non-working’ implies that a mother who stays home doesn’t work. It’s far more difficult than anything I do in the office.”

If I was to follow your mandate that only women who have real careers have value, then I would assume that would mean that I should go get a real job and put my son in day care. Where someone else, who has a real career, will teach him his manners and his ABCs and read him books and wipe his nose and kiss his boo-boos.

Or, I could just do that myself. Because I get to invest my time and energy into this little person. What I do with him now is affecting the rest of his life. He might be a doctor or a lawyer or a scientist or a teacher or an astronaut or anything he wants to be, but whatever it is, I can say that I had a huge part in that, and that I helped him become who he is, because he was important enough to me. He mattered to me so much, that I willingly and gladly put the rest of my life aside to pour all of my energy into him.

That, Amy, is the best, and most important, and most exhausting job I will ever have.