Working moms in the third world

by Penny

I just came back from a two-week trip to Bolivia. It was a work trip, and required me to be completely detached from the rest of the world for most of that time. That meant no TV, no phone, no computer, no electricity, no showers, no nothing. This was not this first time I have been so far removed from home and family since I became a mom, but it was by far the most difficult time I’ve had being away. The worst part was the nightmares…and not being able to call home to be sure they were just dreams. I was so relieved upon my return a place with a computer and internet access, to find ordinary, nonchalant messages from my husband. Whew! Nothing had happened and I could sleep again!

But I’m not writing this about traveling abroad and missing my husband and son. We all, as working moms, have to deal with that at some point. Instead, I’d like to reflect on the bigger picture.

It’s easy for us living here in the ‘first world’ to point fingers and tout how our method of child-rearing is far-and-above better than someone else’s because we (insert one):

1) choose to continue to work

2) choose to be stay-at-home parents

3) choose to home school

4) choose to have a nanny

5) choose to utilize a local daycare

6) choose to divorce our spouses, in the interest of our children

7) choose to remain married, in the interest of our children

8) etc, etc.

It goes on and on.

It only takes one day in a third world country, like Bolivia, to realize how petty these “Mommy Wars” really are. Even in the most prosperous of Bolivian cities, like La Paz or Potosi, children work with their mothers, either passively riding on Mommy’s back, or actively trying to make some money polishing shoes. There is no choice for the mother or the child. You work to survive. You do what you have to do.

Where’s the Daddy? He’s working too, sometimes being away from his family for days or weeks. Yet, these are some of the most beautiful and happy people I have ever met. Mothers and their babies are stunning (and always grateful for a ride if it’s offered). The older children – the ones who go to school – are curious, inquisitive, well-adjusted, and happy.

All this tells me one simple thing: it’s not about how you raise your children; it’s about how you LOVE your children.

Now, can’t we all just get on with our lives?