My occupation

I was at a doctor's appointment not long ago, and the receptionist asked for all my pertinent information, including my occupation. When I stated, "I'm a stay-at-home mom," the receptionist replied enthusiastically, "A domestic engineer!"

*receptionist throws big, cheesy smile at the mommy*

Now, I know this woman was just trying to brighten my poor child-centric life, but I don't particularly care for the term 'domestic engineer.' Every time I hear the phrase I want to scream, "But I was a REAL engineer! Or I could have been if I hadn't been too much of a control freak to let someone else spend their days with my kids! I have a degree!" I don't need to be placated. I don't need a little pat on the head for encouragement.

What I do all day in no way resembles engineering. So far I've had very little use for differential equations and thermodynamics. And to call me domestic is an insult to the word--I can clean like a maniac, but the moment I think about laundry or cooking I shudder.

The next time someone asks me what my occupation is I'm going to say, "Kyle, Natalie and Brandon are my occupation." One of Merriam-Webster's definitions of the word occupy is 'to engage the attention or energies of.' Well, they occupy me all day, every day. Waking or sleeping they engage most of my attention and all of my energy. If they don't have all of my attention at any given moment they'll quickly stage a battle over a toy or accidentally dump water all over the floor to make sure they get it back.

It's not always fun, it's never glamourous, but it's always a rewarding challenge. I'm totally okay with my three little monsters being my occupation. I'm a mom, and I really don't need a fake title to legitimize it.