My mother had a career before she was married. She was the head stenographer in the legal department at the newly-constructed Pentagon. She didn’t care much for living in Washington, D.C., so in 1944 she joined the Navy. After WAVE training, they sent her right back to D.C.

Ah, but there was a purpose in all of this. When she returned, she became reacquainted with my dad. They had been in the same class in elementary school, and knew each other a little bit. They married on a snowy day in December at Fort Belvoir, Va.

According to dad, my brother was born nine months and 10 minutes after the wedding.

Thus Rita Kelley Murphy began her new career as Mother Superior. By the time the family was complete, she had lost a few babies and borne five of us to full term. Dad went back to college, receiving a mining degree. They put their roots deep into the mine-shaft riddled hard rock of Butte, Mont., and never left.

Mom was a very organized and methodical person. Her life moved at a deliberate pace. The normal routine, cooking, laundry, homework, and soul-protecting was peppered with an occasional health crisis or death in the family, grand celebrations, and important rituals and traditions.

In other words, it was the typical life of a post-war American family.

She managed our household of seven people and occasional strays. She took care of all of her parent’s paperwork, doctor appointments, yard work (which she delegated to her kids and our cousins), and home maintenance. She had three elderly aunts who relied on her for everything, including companionship. I now understand the proverb she used to recite, “Blessed is she who does her best, and leaves the rest, and does not worry. Angels can do no more.”

I mention this because I have a part-time job that includes travel. The hours are long, the work is hard, and driving in Seattle’s winter weather is challenging. The hard part is that I still try to manage our household, yard and gardens, as well as keep The Big Table as a haven for our family and friends.

I am in awe of those of you who do this all the time. What I have learned is what my mother knew all along: selective neglect. I know I CAN do it all. Just not all at once!

Patty Luzzi has lived on the Eastside for 33 years. Readers can contact her at pattyluzzi@yahoo.com.