Chronicles of Chaos

December 2, 2009 | Print

The Hub of the Wheel

As a kid, I used to lose things all the time–books, clothes, my hamster Joey. Most often these items disappeared within the four corners of my room. I would search and search and then holler, “Mom, I can’t find my _______!” She soon would arrive, make a sweep of the area and find my missing treasure within minutes. It looked like magic.

I seem to have inherited the skill, though it did not manifest until my kids were old enough to misplace their own stuff and call me for assistance. I can walk around the house and find anything that’s missing–soccer shirt, stuffed koala bear, loveys, the miniature sun shield from a Lego man’s helmet. Adam Gopnik marvels at his wife’s ability to do the same in his book about raising kids in New York, Through the Children’s Gate. When she takes a short trip to visit relatives, he must call her to locate the TV remote. Over the phone, she ascertains exactly what transpired by recalling who sits where during TV watching, and how the remote eventually gets knocked under a particular piece of furniture. Sure enough, she’s right.

I can find things in the house because I too observe everyone’s habits. In a way my mind shadows the kids as they move through their days and nights, anticipating and supporting if needed. We all come to rely on my abilities, my range as a fixer. I’m the first one out of bed when the kids call for help at night–initially by instinct, then habit. A mom once passed along her therapist’s (or was it her son’s therapist?) description of the family as a wheel, with the mother as hub. She is the center, connected and connecting. It seems like a compliment, but the mother-focus has always struck me as lopsided. I prefer to see families as defining themselves according to the personalities, strengths and desires of their members.

I wouldn’t describe myself as the hub. More like head of maintenance and operations, which could give me power and control. And leads to the question, power and control over what? The kids, the house? I don’t want power, I want to be engaged in the family and be able to pursue my own interests. My awareness of the webbing of our family life, and the scheduling, means that the kids and Michael rely on me in certain ways. I could easily dissolve into my aptitude for it and their dependence.

And that happens. During those days, weeks, and the occasional month, I inevitably start to feel depleted, which clouds my judgment. I’ll then continue in drive gear as if I have no other choice, taking on even more of the work. This spiral descends into getting sick or resentful, sometimes both. It’s surprisingly easy not to foresee this crash and burn. There’s so much to do and it always moves faster if I do it myself.

I’m learning, however, that excessive physical labor wastes my greater contribution to the family–capacity for detail. Either by nature or practicing the art of nurture, I perceive the nuances of the family system. Michael and I now try to be specific about who does what job, and also the mushy areas where we overlap. I’m often the one who keeps track of who needs what and when, and he’s a good meter for what’s going to be too much for one of us to manage and how to juggle a schedule to find an easier route. Routines make everything more manageable–laundry, getting ready for school, making dinner and bedtimes.

All that said, we are in no way a perfectly oiled machine. We’re more like an architect’s rough sketch, erasing lines and drawing new ones, scribbling in the margins as we go along.