‘What you need, you know I’ve got it’

I was still tossing last minute instructions at the back of a grumpy teenager when the car door slammed, cutting me off in mid-sentence. At that moment, as if on cue, the sound of Aretha Franklin’s powerful voice came through the radio asking for a little R- E-S-P-E-C-T.

I cranked up the volume and sang along.

Every time I hear that song I’m transported back to the pub across the street from my college.

Whenever it blared from the jukebox my friends and I would strike a sassy pose and strut around in our best “Boy, you better look at me, and listen to what I’m sayin’ ” attitude while we lip-synced with the Queen of Soul.

We cracked one another up.

But what strikes me as funny now is that, at the time, I didn’t have a clue as to what she was saying. I was just a girl, playing at being a righteously indignant woman.

That was nearly 20 years ago. Now, I am a genuine righteously indignant woman raising a family and managing a chaotic household. Oh, yeah, with a full-time job on the side.

Now, I get it.

Aretha, Honey, I feel your pain. I’d like a little respect, too.

In spite of the fact that whenever women get together we reassure and comfort one another by saying that one simply cannot do it all, many of us are still trying. We work hard at mothering and we work hard at our work. And we don’t always get the respect we deserve.

I may not leave the house to go to work, but I’m not sitting around here buffing my nails.

I struggle to meet deadlines while I do things a “stay-at-home-mom” does.

I pack lunches. I take care of the pets that wheedling children promised to help care for if I let them bring them home. I cook, I clean and I do laundry.

I make appointments to see the doctor, dentist and orthodontist.

I “read” my children trying to hear what they’re saying and what they aren’t saying so I can meet their needs. Sometimes before they even realize there is a need.

And at the same time, in the corner of my mind that belongs to me alone, I’m stringing together words, like beads, into sentences and paragraphs.

Some days my work isn’t so good and neither is my parenting.

I get tired and cranky, and a little blue. And sometimes, I get mad. Sometimes, I get real mad. But I’m never off duty. I’m on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. (Who am I kidding? As a parent, I’m on call for the rest of my life.)

My struggle to find balance between work and home isn’t unique.

But I made a promise to each of my children before they were born that I would stick around. And I would try to get it right. After all, they aren’t the only ones who will have to live with my legacy as a mother. I’ll have to live with it too.

I love my children and I love my work. But right now, I would love a little respect.

Like Aretha said, “Just a little bit.”