Mother meets kids, job halfway

'I am woman, hear me roar."

I remember it well: my friend Lisa and I acting out the words to the 1974 Helen Reddy song in my purple flowered bedroom. Lisa is in Georgia now and I don't know about her, but lately I could be singing, "I am halfway woman, hear me whine."

Like many moms I'm giving everyone about half of me lately.

With the recent election, I found myself putting in extra hours at work. As a radio talk-show host, I spent a lot of time reading up on the candidates, the issues and the measures. I hate to admit it, but when my 4-year-old wanted me to read "The Cat in the Hat" one night, I just couldn't muster the strength. After talking about the economic crisis all day on the air, I wasn't sure I could handle Thing One and Thing Two terrorizing that unsuspecting mom's home while that cat and those rotten kids just watched. Fortunately, my wonderful husband stepped in and did a commendable job with Dr. Seuss.

It bugs me. I know these are precious years with my girls. I've been told so many times "they're only young once." But I'm also aware there are only so many hours in a day and so much to do. Something's got to give. Sometimes it's family, and sometimes it's work.

Work took a hit the other morning when I was late because I was negotiating a hostage release. My 6-year-old was demanding the unconditional return of her "My Little Pony" that the

4-year-old took just to bug her. Then I became fashion consultant when the little sister wouldn't wear her Daisy Duck T-shirt unless the big sister wore her Minnie Mouse T-shirt. I kissed the kids goodbye and left my wonderful husband with half-dressed daughters fighting over a plastic pony.

Halfway mom.

Then I get to work late. Halfway worker. (I shouldn't admit that since my employer, WDAY-AM, is owned by this very paper you're reading. Maybe the publisher is skipping this column today.)

It's hard not to let one aspect of your life affect the other. I love those nights when I leave work at work, nights when the girls and I dance together to "Dancing with the Stars." But too often work creeps in with a quick

e-mail, phone call or some research that needs to get done.

Yet the home life returns the favor when my cell phone rings in the middle of the radio show with a little voice asking "Where's my backpack?" or a deeper husband-voice trying to remember exactly what I told him before I left. (I thought there was a glazed-over look when I started talking to him about soccer pictures and preschool conferences.)

I know it's impossible to compartmentalize your life. Even so, it's hard not to feel like you're letting someone down, whether it's your kids, your boss or even yourself.

I'm not sure what the answer is. I guess moms and dads everywhere will continue the mad juggling game and hope no one notices once in a while when a ball or two drops.

Helen Reddy should write a song about that. I better call Lisa.

Tracy Briggs is a mother of two and a personality for WDAY AM 970