Sock Er, Mom

Illustration by Bob AulWe're stopped at a red light in our cars at a busy suburban intersection. You're in a gigantic, late-model SUV in front of me, conducting some sort of business. The light changes; you're not looking. I honk timidly; you don't hear. Perhaps you've got some sort of hands-free phone, or perhaps your radio is on. I honk again, less timidly, and you still don't move. I try to maneuver my minivan into the next lane so I might stand a chance of getting to work on time. That's when I notice your license-plate frame. It reads, "Get a Real Job. Be a Mom." Sheesh. I miss the last green light for what seems like ages. This gives me time to reflect on two things: first, now I'm set up for an unsafe lane change (d'oh!), and second, that license-plate frame. What self-righteousness! You see, I'm a working parent. I work full time so my spouse can be home with our young child. It just so happens I'm the child's mother. And I'm in a hurry to get to work because my co-worker, a single, working mom, has to take a lunch break at a specific time to administer medication to her disabled child. I suppose she doesn't have a "real" job either, huh? What kind of insulated, self-satisfied world do you inhabit? Sure, I've spaced out at stoplights myself, and yeah, maybe it looked really mean-spirited for me to speed ahead and change lanes in front of you to make my right-hand turn. But, ma'am, wake up. And I don't only mean pay attention to the road, although you may want to give that a try. Things are infinitely more complex than "Get a Real Job. Be a Mom." These are tough times, and I'm not willing to say someone else's way of scraping out a living and putting food on the table is somehow morally inferior to mine. Apparently, you are. Get over it.

Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, P.O. Box 10788, Costa Mesa, CA 92627-0247, or e-mail us at Letters@ocweekly.com.