Shhhh, here she comes!

I hate being That Mom.  You know the one.  The one always asking for favors. 

For me, usually, the favor is, can you watch Aidan for a couple of hours, get him off the bus and give him some dinner? Because Jim and I have to take Conor to the psychiatrist at 5pm.  Or… Jim’s got a meeting at 7pm, can you help me put the kids to bed?


This is my favorite… Our therapist called out sick today, can Aidan come over for awhile ‘cause Conor’s in a really bad mood?

I want to be the Mom Who Helps Out, not the Mom Who Needs Help All The Time.

We have some great friends and family.  They’re always willing to help out if they can.  But it bothers me—a lot—that we can almost never reciprocate. 

C’mon moms and dads, that’s how it’s supposed to work, right?  You watch my kid for an hour, I watch your rugrat for an hour.  I drag your kid to squash lessons and you drag mine to baseball practice. Your kid tears up my yard with his cleats and my kid tracks mud all over your carpet.

Conor hates little kids, so babysitting my 2 year old niece while he’s home is tough. Forget her 5 month old brother.  God forbid a kid actually cries near him, the trauma.

Conor’s jealous of his little brother, so having Aidan’s friends come hang out for any length of time can be challenging.  I mean, who wants to invite a friend over but, by the way, we have to lock ourselves in my mom’s office to play the Wii so my crazy brother doesn’t attack us?

Don’t get me wrong.  Everyone is so totally nice to me, it’s embarrassing.  They make offers to help, and I believe they mean it.  Most of them, anyway. Even parents who barely know us have helped us out.

I just… I don’t know, I hate asking for help, I guess.  I hate needing the help.  It just makes me feel so… helpless.  So dependent.