When Hilary Clinton announced earlier today that she would not
serve another term as Secretary of State, she referred to her 20-year career in
the political arena as “the high wire of American politics."  It’s an interesting metaphor.  Lately, I’ve been thinking about a similar
metaphor for working motherhood: a trapeze act.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

It all started one morning when I opened my email to find an enticing
offer for 70% off trapeze classes in my area. 
Glibly, as I normally do, I posted a link on my Facebook page asking 200
or so of my closest friends if I should give it a try.  Trapeze is, after all, on my bucket
list.  (Isn’t it on everybody’s?)  Needless to say everyone who responded did so
with a resounding “Go for it!”  Then I
found out that the 70%-off deal was for 3 introductory lessons, which take
place on solid ground, no flying involved.  To reach the stage when I would actually be
able to “fly” would require hundreds of dollars and hours of commitment, not to
mention tons of courage, all of which I was not yet ready to spare.  I decided that I would list trapeze on the B side
of my bucket list, “Things to Do After Retirement.”  Besides, I’m already on the trapeze of
working motherhood. 

Like working motherhood, trapeze requires a great deal of cooperation
and communication – often, communication without words.  Trapeze artists must develop trust within the
team, as their entire act hangs (pardon the pun) on one’s dependence on the
other to pass the trapeze or catch one another in mid-air.  Sometimes it’s blind trust, as they swing and
swoop backwards and in sync, unable to see each other, but trusting that the
other is there.  Of course, the obvious
metaphor is that our lives have many ups and downs; unlike trapeze, they are
often unanticipated, but they come and go, throughout our lives.  Trapeze requires a keen sense of balance.  Like working motherhood, it requires not only
the individual skill to balance one’s self on the bar or the platform, but a
balance of timing and tasks and coordination among several people. And while I
often try to ease difficult situations by saying “No one’s life is in danger,”
in trapeze, someone’s life is in danger.  And let’s not forget that incredibly tall
ladder with what seems like a million steps to the top!  Half the intrigue and danger is getting
there. 

I wonder, do trapeze artists ever doubt that their flying
partner will be there when they let go of the bar?  Do they trust that, if all else fails, the
safety net below will catch them?  Do
they ever look down?

As working mothers, we too require cooperation, communication,
and balance.  We trust in others, but
also in the world; otherwise, why would we strive for the best for our
children?  We lead interdependent lives,
coordinating the movement and well-being of children, partners, colleagues, care
givers, extended family, etc.  And we try
to create a safety net, fully cognizant that others will often look to us to
repair the hole in it. If I were a trapeze artist, I would want to be the one
with a sparkly tiara, dazzling blue eye makeup and a matching blue outfit.  Years ago, I read Hilary Clinton’s book, It Takes a Village.  Looking back on her life as a working mother, I
wonder if she would agree with me when I say, ‘it takes a trapeze troop.’