Putting family first

The upwardly bound career woman had it all: Career, handsome and successful husband, two healthy sons, two new vehicles and a large beautiful, two-story four-bedroom home on the edge of an idyllic golf course overlooking the water. The house was filled with top of the line new furniture. The garage overflowed with yard toys and tools. The freezer and pantry shelves were crowded with boxes of prepared foods and snacks.
Her husband was off working somewhere as she told me about her long hours spent at two jobs building her professional career, earning money to pay two mortgages, two car notes,  buy more stuff … oh yes, and the speech therapy and special pre-school for the youngest child, traumatized by an abusive baby-sitter. A situation that her oldest child told her about for months before a change was instituted.
She talked incessantly.
I wanted to say, “slow down, take a deep breath, and ask yourself, ‘which is more important: Family or career, house and possessions?’” I still wonder. I watched her give the children food, videos, games and toys. I never saw her sit down with them and listen.
It is easy to do that. I have eased in that direction more than once.
The first time, I had just landed a small part-time job as a newspaper stringer. All I had to do was attend three or four business meetings a month and report what happened. I could do feature and community stories and take pictures, but I received no pay for my time, only so much per picture and so much per inch of copy.
I didn’t care, I was being paid to sit at my Smith-Corona manual typewriter and report what I saw and heard. I fell to the task enthusiastically. When my three sons, who were under 7 years old, came to me with books to read, I would mutter, “Just a minute, I just want to finish this.”
They were fed, bathed, clothed and put to bed, but not noticed – until one son slashed our newly installed window screen, broke the neighbor’s potted plants and shredded their newspaper.
As I sat watching him clean up the mess I did a bit of reflecting. This kid was telling me something as loudly as he could; something besides, he needed a spanking.
What had changed? I had changed.
I didn’t quit the job, but I did put it into perspective. Story time resumed. My budding career in journalism slowed down. I went to the meetings, wrote feature stories and took pictures, but I also covered up the typewriter and listened to the children.
I would like to say, I never made that mistake again. I can’t. However, I did learn to listen to the children’s actions and words and to repeatedly reconsider “which is more important, the job or the family?”
I guess that is what bothers me about the young woman I met recently:
Both sons communicated that there was a problem. She knew one needed extra attention, at least speech therapy, but she focused on her beautiful home and the importance of developing her career. Her sons had quit begging to be the focus of her attention. Too bad, to do so would have meant less time at work and in town shopping, but greater emotional riches now and in the future.