This morning, I observed Mia struggling with her socks. They were inside out, and she was determined to turn them right side out and put them on by herself. I offered to assist her gently, but she immediately retorted with a familiar phrase: “No! I can do it myself!”
It’s often said that as parents, we reflect the behaviors we exhibited during childhood. As her words echoed in my mind alongside our shared frustration—her with the socks and me with my desire to help—I realized how annoying this stubbornness must have been for my own parents when I was Mia’s age. It’s amusing, yet frustrating, that this mindset persists into adulthood. I often find myself putting on a brave face, convincing my family, friends, and even myself that I can manage everything alone. I can get the kids to the bus on time, handle sleepless nights with a newborn, pack lunches, prepare homemade dinners, and engage in fun projects with the children. I can do it all!
Except when I can’t.
The reality is, it has been a long and taxing week. After a Monday to Friday business trip, Tom finally returned home. While this isn’t the first time he’s traveled since our youngest was born, it is the first time he has been away for an extended period after our support network of family and friends had already departed. I found myself alone with all three kids, constantly “on duty” day and night. I felt like the human equivalent of a 24-hour news cycle—exhausted and repeating myself endlessly.
Tom left around 8 AM on Monday. By noon, I recognized I needed to lower my expectations. Laundry might get done, but it would remain unfolded in soft piles around the house. We may or may not catch the school bus; if we drove, we would arrive just in time for the first bell, but no way would we be early. Homework would be completed, and the children would be fed—even if that meant resorting to scrambled eggs for dinner most nights. When Mia asked why we weren’t doing anything special during our day at home, I explained that I was tired and hadn’t slept for more than four hours at a time in days. Despite my exhaustion, I mustered the energy to engage in a cooking project with her, and we managed to make hamantaschen for Purim—six, to be precise. It wasn’t much, but we accomplished something together.
However, by midweek, I realized my mantra of lowering expectations wasn’t sufficient. I would have to do something more radical: accept help. Or, even more daunting, I would need to ask for help. Just imagine Mia, frustrated with her socks, but as an adult, feeling similar frustration about admitting my limitations.
So, when a neighbor offered to walk my son, Jake, to the bus stop, I said yes. When another friend called to bring over dinner, I agreed, and that delicious meal lasted for at least two nights, and maybe even one breakfast. When a friend offered to pick Mia up from piano class, I accepted. And when another thoughtful friend asked if she could hold my youngest, Lily, so I could enjoy a moment of peace with my coffee, I said yes.
That’s right—one simple word changed everything. It’s somewhat embarrassing to acknowledge that it took me 36 years to learn this lesson, but that one word and the support of wonderful people carried me through to the end of the week. Finally, when Tom returned home, I was grateful for the opportunity to step outside for a brief moment of solitude, enjoying a well-deserved hour of quiet with a beer and fries, away from the little ones whom I love dearly but desperately needed a break from.
As I headed out, I called up to him, asking if he needed anything. He replied, “Just you.”
“That’s easy,” I said. “I’ll go get her. Be back in an hour.”
I need him. I need her. I need them all. Yes.
Conclusion
In summary, parenting often involves a struggle for independence, as exemplified by my experience with Mia and her socks. Yet, recognizing the importance of accepting help can be transformative. By saying “yes” to support, we can navigate the challenging moments of parenthood more effectively.
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