Soliloquies Anthology 30.1

By Saskia Wodarczak

Happy International Women’s Month! In honour of March, I decided to chat with my mom, Adena — I needed to do so for a project for class, but I think my lovely mother goose deserves more recognition in my written work. I’ve written about my dad a few times, sometimes at his expense (sorry, Erwin!), whether it’s for school or an article for the paper, so in my mind, it’s my mom’s turn to have the spotlight. 

My mom took on the most challenging job of all: she was a stay at home mom for eighteen years. When I was really little, she’d walk me to school every day, drive me to my various after school activities (mainly ballet and piano), and pick me up afterward. When I was in highschool, I would be home every weekday at exactly 3:17p.m. and she and I would sit down, watch a TV show, or chat until she started prepping for dinner. 

The older I get, the more similarities I see between myself and my mom. Is it really a surprise to me? She gives my stubborn nature a run for its money. Every time I cut my hair short, I label it as my Adena-Hair Era. I inherited her “don’t give a shit” attitude, yet also the capacity to care deeply, sometimes to a fault. In high school, she may have hit people with a field hockey stick when they didn’t pass her the ball, but my mom is the most empathetic and caring person I know. 

Her capacity to care and to empathize runs deep.

From an early age, my mom has been a caregiver. At sixteen she was helping out with her first nephew, and when her dad had a stroke she played a big part in taking care of things while her mother was working. The youngest of four, she was still living at home when her sisters got married and moved away to start their own families, so a lot of responsibility inherently fell on her. 

While there are a lot of things I see of my mother mirrored in myself, there is so much about her that I wish I’d inherited. She has this quality that makes people automatically trust her. I don’t know if it’s her chatty nature or her disposition, but there’s something about her that makes people naturally inclined to warm to her. I’ve always wished that I was as tough as she is. Her whole life, no matter what situation she was in, she’s always been determined to find a solution. Her late father always told her “you will survive”, and I don’t think there’s anything that could better describe her. 

Because I spent so much time with her, my mother introduced me to the things that she grew up with, the most significant being Little House on the Prairie. For those who have never heard of the series, it’s set between the 1870s and the 1890s, and follows an American pioneer family as they face hardships while establishing their life in the Midwest. My mother read me the books when I was really little, and we bought the DVD set. Still to this day, she and I binge the series — as does my dad because he doesn’t really have a choice (he is almost as well-versed in the series’ lore as my mom and I). Growing up, my favourite character was Mary Ingalls because I saw a lot of myself in her, but as I’ve gotten older, I find that I share more similarities with Laura Ingalls. I think that part of that is because Laura reminds me of my mom, and I’ve slowly gotten to be more like Laura myself. I think it’s viable to assume that my mom and I both would happily push a Nellie Oleson-adjacent girl down a rocky hill in a wheelchair if she was faking a paralyzing injury to get attention, and just for being an overall bitch. 

People relied on her heavily, and because she’s a naturally caring person, a love-hate relationship came with the position. 

Something that sticks out to me the most is that she went on a solo trip in Europe in the 80s. That’s something I know that I would never be able to do, and it’s something I really admire her for. Especially as a young woman of colour, there was a lot of skepticism from her family and the community behind her travelling solo. 

It goes without saying that I love my mother. I do, however, definitely worry for her sometimes, especially when she told me about the various jobs she’s had before I became her full time job. She had a vast array of colourful jobs, including a transition house in Vancouver where someone stalked her, a youth detention centre in Burnaby, she was a financial aid worker for the government where someone pulled a gun on her, a Dairy Queen (the most normal of all of them), and had a practicum at Riverview Hospital in Coquitlam. 

There is no job that is as thankless and ever-changing as being a stay at home mom. My mother set aside her career in nutrition and food services to stay at home with me, and ensure that I received the love and care that a nanny or hired help wouldn’t be able to provide. All my life, I’ve wanted to be like her, and I can only hope to become half the woman she is.