This past week I have been in Washington DC at a conference in which most if not all of the activities require my involvement.  Six days of being “on it” 24/7 and tonight, the eve of the conference’ end, I’m exhausted. Droopy red eyes, back and ass ache, swollen feet fatigue tempered only by the satisfaction of knowing I helped make a good conference even better for members of our union who I call my brothers and sisters.

And at the height of the busiest moments I was pulled away and reminded how blessed I am to be a mom who works.   At 5:00 p.m. today as I was changing for yet another event, I heard my phone and found a picture of a poem written by my 13 year old daughter.  It was an English assignment and she wanted to share it with me.  While I maniacally complain about technology and texting and our over-reliance on all of it, I was struck by the gift this oft-hated technology provided me on this one evening at a conference in Washington DC.

She wrote:

I dream a dream that all can share.

To walk down the street without a care.

You have today

Don’t let it slip away

And then, four hours later my older daughter called to say hi – no agenda, no need, no question, no request, just a simple call to say hi I miss you and when are you coming home.

So I could wallow in self pity and angst at having a job that takes me away from them for sometimes big chunks of time OR I could embrace the whole of my life which includes a hard but cool job that allows me to interact daily with interesting and smart activists AND the most lovely and loving daughters a throwback working mom like me could ever ask for.

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