Uniforms: What You May Not See

When I was a little girl, I thought the hardest job must be one that required a man to wear a uniform. My grandfather seemed to work sunrise to sunset, or vice versa. H e went to work in his bluish-grey uniform with NYS Thruway embroidered above the pocket. He drove a wrecker and did something with bridge patrol. I remember being a little girl and getting to drive down this secret road off the Tappan Zee Bridge and down near the river. We’d wind up in what I thought was a secret complex of big trucks and cars with lights on top, and hard working men in uniforms.

When I was a little older, the head of one of the most influential families of my teen years wore a greenish-grey uniform and he too seemed to be one of the hardest working men. Billie went to work when we were all fast asleep. As we got a little older, he still worked the same hours, but left as we were sneaking in. He worked through the night and came home in the wee hours of the morning.

 

I have grown to adore those hard working men in uniforms; the one I love wears a dark blue uniform with a bright yellow and red patch. He works hours and hours and might be one of the hardest working men around. Sometimes, I forget to tell him how much I appreciate his hard work. He rises before the sun and comes home in the dark.  I know he does this all in love and support of his family.

My uniform has been very different than those hard working men. My uniform was one of starched white cotton that later in my career turned to fashionable colors and prints that felt like cozy pajamas. That uniform has taken me through some of the hardest, yet most rewarding days of my life. While that uniform may be easily identified and holds a great deal of my professional pride, another uniform has been the most important in my life.

For nearly a decade and a half I have worn a uniform sun to sun that truly expresses the hardest job I could have ever imagined. My daily wear was once one of smudgy handprints and snotty noses. I’ve carried a large stick and held a soft pillow. I’ve wiped tears and showcased smiles. I’ve shuttled friends and cuddled to make amends. The most difficult job I have ever known is that of a parent, and perhaps even more difficult that of a step-parent.

 

I love my kids, be it by birth or by marriage. They have truly been the most amazing thing in each day of my life. There have been days when they look me in the eye and wish me to disappear. There are days that they have felt my love and support and thanked me from their heart. The most difficult job I ever imagined can only be carried out with love. No matter what, no matter when, no matter how, I will work my entire life, from sun to sun, to water my children with love. It is not always easy to see the growth, sometimes it is below the surface. Someday, one day, many days, the growth is obvious and the hardest job in the world is also the most amazing, rewarding, fantastic day.