“…And now to review a new play, here’s Morris.”

“Thank you, Barbara. Sixty years ago, it would have been laughed out of vaudeville; Ringling Brothers would never use it, and don’t expect it to play Broadway. But, The Working Mother Show is a three-act play clever enough for the most discerning vaudevillian, graceful enough to please the most avid circus spectator; and filled with sentiment and crisis to reach the most devoted Theatre-goer. The show opens with a young, attractive woman– you for instance— who relinquished the opportunity to further her education or otherwise fulfill her needs so she could marry instead, and is presently working to supplement her husband’s income.
Over structured, underpaid, unfulfilled, she nevertheless plays out her scene daily. Then one day, her organized emptiness is consummated by an impulsive act. The result: This twosome is now a three-some. The curtain falls, ending Act I.
A young mother arising from an unsound sleep (for the fifth time) at the request of her screaming infant, begins the Second Act. In an atmosphere where “frenetic” is the slowest pace and change is the only constant, the young mother is once again tap-dancing to the demands of others; her infant and husband. It is truly entertaining as well as gripping, to witness this resourceful woman attempting to satisfy these two individuals by working both ends against the middle. But, alas, it soon becomes apparent that providing physical and emotional support; and cleaning, supplying and maintaining a home is not enough. The financial specter has reared its ugly head; the needle is on “empty” and it is time to refill the tank. The woman must return to work. End of Act II.
In the Final Act, the working-mother is once again pounding the pavement– office manager, secretary, sales clerk, dental assistant trainee, assembly-line worker– there is no stone left uncovered. Weary, discouraged and concerned about the infant she left with a baby-sitter, she reflects on how different things might have been had she pursued her education as originally intended. Then “reality” strikes and she makes a last ditch effort to land a job. Success! An operations assistant manager for a large company; more demands to satisfy. The interviewer hands her some job- related brochures and sends her on her way. The woman can hardly wait to return home to inform her husband of the good news, whereupon she is greeted with the bad news: ‘Why isn’t dinner ready? This place is a mess–couldn’t the baby-sitter have cleaned-up a little? You know, I can’t take the pressures of this household anymore. I feel unfulfilled– the baby gets all of your attention, and now you’re looking for a job, besides. The love is gone from our marriage. I want a divorce.’
The working mother, still clutching the employment brochures quietly picks up the child, walks into the bedroom and, sitting on the end of the bed, stares pensively into space. The final curtain lowers.” While the ending may be a tragic irony in this theatre, it could end differently in yours. Obviously all marriages do not take this course– nor was this meant to create a war between the sexes. Perhaps several of you were able to identify with certain aspects of the plot; certainly many of those among you who have sought professional guidance pursuant to or following a divorce. Others more fortunate may have ended the show differently, still happily married but struggling to make ends meet; or a single parent doing the same. In any case, the moral is that emptiness is a hole we dig for ourselves; its planned misery, the fruit of our labors. But a hole may be “filled-full” at any time! How you undertake this venture will determine your own self fulfillment. Filling the hole with concrete plans for continuing an education, or beginning a career of your choice, or joining an organized social and health club in order to have even more choices may be in order. So don’t bury your head in the sand. Pay attention to your own demands. After all, for one so adroit at juggling the demands of others, what’s one more person to please?