Sarah Fenske’s in dogged pursuit of maternal instinct

When I was 25 and restless, I got divorced and moved cross-country. That was not how things worked in 1975. And so my sister Amy was born, and then me, and then my three younger siblings. (Amy and I used to fantasize about how much happier we'd be if they'd stopped at two.)

Now, you'd think someone who stumbled into motherhood might regret spending that much time on it. Okay, maybe you wouldn't think that — I think that, because I love my job and love having enough disposable income to shop (occasionally!) at Stuart Weitzman.

But not my mom. She was genuinely good at being a mom, and as weird as it seems to me now, I think it was quite fulfilling for her. She blossomed.

In fact, she misses little kids so much that she and my dad typically spend half their weekends driving to visit my sister in Milwaukee. That's 16 hours in the car, round trip. And I might point out they haven't been to Phoenix in three years.

Milwaukee is where their grandchild is.

They love this little guy so much that my mom actually cites him as one reason they're glad they had kids. I'm thinking, what, we're this bridge generation to your perfect little baby boy? Thanks a lot, Mom!

You never meet anyone who regrets having kids, only people who regret not having them. Even parents who have the most awful kids seem to think they're great.

That can't just be about the kids. I think it may say more about the process of parenting.

When my mom tried to explain to me how wonderful motherhood is, she spoke only briefly about how cute we were and how much fun it was to watch us running around. In retrospect, I think she loved having us partly because she sees now how much parenthood changed her. That it moved her, forcibly, from her own selfishness into something challenging — and wondrous.

"If Dad and I hadn't had all you kids, we would have worked all those years," she says. "So we would have had a lot more money. Why? To pay for the nursing home?"

Nothing like a chat with Mom to make me question my own life choices. So I crack a joke. "Hey, at least I'll have a dog to grow old with."

"Sarah, getting a dog is a lark," my mother says. "It's not going to be anything close to a child! You're not going to have to get up in the middle of the night with your dog. You're not going to have to quit your job, or shift to something less demanding, in order to raise him! You're not going to have to change diapers."

Yes . . . Exactly.

A dog may sound like a small step to a woman who raised five kids without complaining. But for this frazzled career girl, it's giant-leap time.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I'm off to PetSmart.