I’m not a big fan of the phrase “working mom.” That’s a position shared by others, but it does still technically fit my mother in the most literal and traditional sense. She was a flight analyst at Learjet for about a decade before she had her first child (a kiddo named Adam!) at the age of 33.
While home in Wichita over Christmas last year, she grabbed a box from the attic and pulled out old work mementos. It was a mixture of new and old – saved emails and manual tools for math with names that escape me. Papers with performance curves, equations for how fast or slow or steep these jets could safely attempt. Sometimes with my mom aboard them.
She left work for a time upon the birth of each subsequent child, returning after her boss could convince her back. Eventually, she couldn’t be convinced any longer and she took early retirement.
So on a day when most of us are posting old photos of our moms to social media, here’s proof that my mom had a life before me – one with a bright yellow Camaro and freedom that probably made her a much better mother when she was ready.