Getting Sick at Costco

For the record, I've never liked Costco. Yes, I know they've got killer prices on bulk diapers, tushy wipes and gallon size bottles of ketchup -- and yes, I've gleefully taken advantage of these benefits But on principle alone, I've never been a Costco fan. To me, it represents the worst of America -- strip malls and suburban sprawl, super sized, gluttonous packages of food that no single family can or should possibly consume.

So why you may ask, did I go to Costco this afternoon if it represents all that is evil about American consumption? I like their Rotisserie Chicken. For $4.99 it happens to be the bargain of the decade and it tastes really good. Also, I had a hankering for blueberries and mango. And somehow in March, Costco miraculously manages to provide crates of blueberries and cut up mango at bargain basement prices. So after taking my four-year-old son Jonah to karate today, my daughter Lexi and I all made a pilgrimage to Costco.

Sitting in the oversized shopping cart side by side, my kids had already consumed an obscene amount of unwashed blueberries before we walked the additional two miles from produce to the checkout line. Once we settled into line with 10,000 other Costco shoppers, Lexi, my two and a half year old, violently vomited half a crate of blueberries. Don't ask what compelled me to reach out with my bare hands to try to catch my daughter's vomit, but I did. Women watched me. I heard some gasp. I saw others turn away.

As I ran for paper towels, leaving my two kids in the cart, not one person said a word to me or even glanced sympathetically in my direction. Was it the sterility of Costco, the massive size and generic feel of the place that makes these shoppers complete strangers and intentionally oblivious to a mom in obvious need of help? I couldn't imagine this happening in a mom and pop shop.

After I stripped my daughter down to her underwear the only person who even acknowledged me and my kids was a security woman who as we were walking out looked my daughter up and down and then sniffed, "your daughter's going to be cold outside."

When Work Isn't Working

Last week, a national news show invited me to participate in a taped panel discussion about some of the issues confronting Stay-at-Work and Stay-at-Home moms. This was another segment in the ongoing "Mommy Wars" debate. But this time, instead of discussing the issues of conflict, we were asked to come up with solutions.

At the end of our half hour taping, one of the women on the panel, who I'll call Susan, was downright angry. Susan was a single, full time working mother of a twelve year old. She supported herself and her daughter on $27,000 a year. Because she didn't have a college education, she didn't have a lot of career options. She was currently working as a bookkeeper in Florida.

"I'm so upset with everything that was said today," Susan announced to us as we began to gather around her. "None of what you all said has anything to do with me. You talk about going to your boss and asking for flexibility. If I did that, I'd be fired. If I take a sick day, I'll be fired. I live in fear of being fired," Susan said.

"My daughter broke her arm two weeks into my current job and my boss let me take care of my daughter for a couple of days, but I got a warning that this could never happen again. I go from job to job because when my daughter gets sick, I get fired. Her father is not in our life. I have no support system. I am so stressed out all of the time. I feel like a terrible mother and I think my daughter hates me because I am never around. You talk about legislation to make the lives of working moms easier. Maybe in twenty years that will make a difference, but what do I do today?" Susan demanded.

We all fell silent. Not one of the dozen or so women circled around Susan had any real solutions for her. Some women in the group tried to empower Susan and reassure her that she was doing the best she could under her undeniably difficult circumstances. But when it came to real, practical steps to relieve her anxiety, there were no concrete answers.

What's most disturbing is that Susan represents millions of women who also feel that they have few options and no reasonable answers. Flexibility and lofty goals of work/life balance legislation don't help a low wage, struggling, working mother who is simply trying to survive.

Nearly 15 million women in the United States earn less than $25,000 a year despite working in full time, year-round jobs. Only 1 in 3 workers has paid sick leave to care for their children. And 77 percent of the lowest paid workers have no paid sick leave at all.

Stories about the mommy wars and the exodus of high powered women leaving the workforce make sexy headlines and bring in ratings. But these women represent a small segment of the population. After meeting Susan last week, I haven't been able to get her out of my mind. She made me realize that we must turn our attention to the millions of working moms who have no legal protection and no safety net. We, who are educated and therefore have access to more power, have an obligation to make the lives of other women with less opportunities better. It is unconscionable that millions of American women are living in dire fear of what will happen to them if their child is sick or if God forbid they get sick.

Something is clearly wrong in this country when work isn't working.