Ask for Help and Move On

I have learned a thing or two along the way during this journey through motherhood. I shared this point with my friend, Kara, who just had baby girl number two (like me). When I need help, I ask for help. I got over the notion that I must do everything alone or that anyone expects me to do it all. Women used to raise children within walking distance of their mothers and sisters. That is now usually a thing of the past. So, if I need Robbie to pitch in and help me with what I deem "my chores", then I ask for help. If I need to make childcare arrangements so that I may get a two hour break at a meeting with the goal of becoming a BETTER wife and mother, then I do it. I ask for help, and I take care of myself. When I feel better, then I can function better in all areas of my life. I like to think my family members benefit from the times when I stop and catch my breath. This blog is a break, and I enjoy it very much. The dishes and laundry and crumbs upstairs will never end, but my sanity will end if I don't stop and relax here and there.

A woman with four boys recently commented on how she hates to ask her husband to help her once he's home from work after a long day. The speaker said, "Why? Think about it. He may have worked hard, but he got to go out to lunch and eat it without sharing it or cutting it into small pieces or picking it up off the floor. He got to go to the bathroom by himself. He got to drive in his car alone and listen to whatever he wanted on the radio. He got to talk to other adults." I have had some hard early mornings trying to get the children ready for school and the day, and I've said, "Do you think I can swing it as an ophthalmologist today? You stay here, and I'll go do the trabeculectomy." In all honesty, I just had to navigate away from this page to check the spelling of that surgery, and I saw an image offering to allow me to view some video. Disgusting. I'd rather wipe dirty bottoms than put needles into people's eyes. I'm all for Robbie doing the ophthalmology. I have it good. I get the kisses and the snuggle time with books, and I love it.

Today was an effort. It is only 1:40 pm. This morning was an effort. I had Mothers of Preschoolers, but I had to take Olivia, Evelyn, and Grace to school first. We were all loaded into the van at 7:34 am. That takes effort. BIG effort. I returned home with H Man and Vivian. She had to be fed, changed, and dressed. Fruit salad had to be finished for my contribution to the MOPS brunch. A few loose ends were tied, then we were out the door to Mrs. Smith's house. Henry asked me on the way, "Mama, is this Mrs. Smith nice or mean?" I told him she's very nice, and he said, "Good. She's no booger nose." Such potty talk does not come from my example. I think he's hardwired with such nonsense. He was happy to go to her house for she has an indoor gym. I left with just baby. I drove to the church where we meet, and I put her in the nursery. She is amazing. When I returned for her after my super meeting, it was reported that the childcare workers had experienced their most challenging Monday in ages. The babies were not happy. However, I put Vivian into a crib in the sleeping area upon our arrival, and she woke up just minutes before I returned. I guess the house noise that I think bothers her has conditioned her to sleep through high volume. This will aid her peaceful slumber in college, I assume. She happily went to me, and we were off to pick up Henry. He had duct tape rings, a candy cane for pottying success, stories of an ugly football mask, and a bag of orange play dough. He kept telling Mary Beth that her big doggy was the mommy and the small one was the puppy. I said, "Well, he calls me Mama T-Rex, and he calls himself Baby T-Rex." She laughed. From there we went to Katie's house to pick up Evelyn. She helps me on MOPS days, for Ev's school ends at 11 am, and MOPS runs longer. Her twins are in class with Evelyn, and they have a half hour or so at home before I arrive. She's a dear to help me. Point being, we attended a meeting for moms at our church last Friday which dealt with the importance of finding ways to meet our own personal needs. Moms complained about how they must impose their children on others in order to have time for themselves. Katie expressed satisfaction in helping me, and she described how things seem to get easier as she moves past the super young child years with her children. She said that when others helped her in the past it was life saving, and that when looking back they seemed to have been glad to have done it. The message here is to play it forward. We all help others as we can, and the world becomes a better place.

Something else of value came from my morning. I did not realize that Henry's diaper had been removed at Mrs. Smith's house, and I drove around town with him in basketball undies. I took him to our bathroom after lunch, and I was shocked that he had done so well. It is so funny, but keeping undies and pants (and socks and shoes and carseats and floors) free of bodily functions is huge for a mom with a 2-year-old. Henry rocks. He's been keeping his diaper so dry that I even put him down for his nap in his crib with his undies. I figure if he has to pee badly enough, then he will crawl out and come tell me. I'l hope for the best.

Now, dear reader, my never ending work awaits my return.