I read “Die Mommy Die,” in Elle Magazine, of all places, about working women and their penchant for going on about their children at work. The author, Nancy Hass, has some interesting takes on why women who work feel the need to bring the mommy side of their lives to work. Some quips:

“…such talk is tedious to the young, unmarried women in the room (yes, they’re Twittering right now about how lame we are) and deeply irritating to the older, child-free ones, not to mention off-putting to most men who happen to be within earshot…”

“Women who talk incessantly about their kids are practicing a kind of political oppression that’s probably born of guilt. You have to declare your mothering intentions, show you’re not selling out your children by caring about your career.”

I suppose we all have our reasons for talking about our children no matter what setting we find ourselves in  - whether it’s at work, at the soccer field or at a cocktail party. I think the reasons vary - a lot of times, I’ll be honest, it’s because it may the only thing I have in common with other women in the room - women with whom I would otherwise have absolutely nothing to talk about. Other times, maybe sometimes at work, it may be my guilt talking - I’m certainly among those who vacillate about how much work is too much while I have young children. I often feel guilty about both - when a sick child takes me out of work for a day (or just an afternoon) or when work keeps me from being one of the Moms who can make it to the field trip, when I know my son would love for me to be a chaperone. So I mention it - not as a “stealth power gesture of bosses who mention their children—and the frustrations of mothering—in an attempt to humanize themselves to women below them in the hierarchy” - but probably more to get the sympathetic “don’t feel bad” and “you’re doing the best you can” supportive comments from others who may or may not know what it’s like to have the need to pursue both motherhood and a career.

Or, maybe it’s just because they are a part (*a huge part) of my life and I talk about them just as I talk about anything else that makes me who I am - marriage, hobbies, travels, books I’ve read, etc. Why would I not talk about them? Why should women feel like they have to hide or downplay this part of their lives to be sure not to alienate anyone? I don’t think everyone in the office runs marathons - or even wants to hear about the sweat, blood and tears that go into them - but nonetheless, I talk about my training incessantly when I’m in the middle of it.

I commend the author for sharing her opinion and saying what she thinks. While kid-talk at work has never really bugged me, I can understand where she’s coming from in general as she goes on about having an “aversion to wearing my parental status on the sleeve of my suit jacket,” and wonders how we have gone from “the absurd stance [of having to to become one of the boys to get ahead] to one in which a woman trots out her reproductive bona fides as though she’s won a MacArthur.”

She mentions how having a child is not “the best thing I’ve ever done,” and I can understand her. I’ve always said that being a mother is only one part of who I am - I don’t understand the sentiments that it should be the whole of my being. No one expects that from fathers - why do mothers have to take on that role?

So I agree with her that having kids is not the best thing I’ve ever done. It’s the raising them that’s the hard part. So ask me again in about 20 years and I’ll let you know if it’s the best thing I’ve ever done - I’ll have a much clearer picture. Until then, I’ll continue talking about them wherever I want, including the office, along with all the other parts of my life that make me who I am.