KAREN WIGHT
My children don't read my column. Every once in a while, when I ask
them if it's OK to talk about them in print, they give me a glazed
look like they've never seen me sit down at the computer and peck out
a paragraph.
One year, when I volunteered to be a mentor for one of Harbor
High's programs, Annie's response was "Why would you do that, what on
Earth do you do?" That just about says it all.
So, in addition to being a mother, I'm regarded as a
jack-of-all-trades, yet master of none. I've come to terms with that.
Motherhood is more complicated than I thought it would be. I naively
thought I would be able to juggle all the balls -- that I could have
it all. Well, I can have it all, just not all at once. I had no idea
when I chose to become a mother that I would fall so madly and deeply
in love with each one of them. I never anticipated that I wouldn't be
able to leave them every morning and let someone else enjoy their
childhood. I had no idea I would turn into such a sap, but I did, and
I still am.
It's hard to explain to them how much they mean to me. I don't
think they'll figure it out until they have children of their own.
It's more than love. It's visceral, undeniable and rooted in the
farthest corners of my soul.
So with the kids I'm a driver, cook, maid and ATM. They don't see
me as an independent person, as "Karen" ... at least not yet. I'm
just the facilitator who makes the family work. And, to my credit,
the family does work fairly well most days. The ubiquitous "they" say
that I will reap the rewards later -- maybe much later. I certainly
hope so, because the pay has been lousy and the hours even worse.
Outside the family I have a small life, but it's mostly a life the
kids don't see, since I squeeze it in between school hours, vacations
and summers. Personally, I need a little extra brain candy, so the
opportunities I get to write or take on a design job keep the gray
matter stimulated on the off chance that when I do reap the rewards
with the kids I might still have something to say.
This year, my Mother's Day has all the makings of a disaster, so
I'm preparing for the worst. Annie is still at Berkeley, hopefully
studying for finals (that's another discussion) and after getting a
taste of college life, the dorms in particular, I highly doubt that
the kids' hallway conversations include "what are you doing for your
mom on Sunday." A phone call would be nice, I'll settle for that.
Mary Rose and Ben will be gone at a weekend water polo tournament
