No More “No, Thank Yous”: Learning to Accept Help

Does this sound familiar? You’re pushing a 100 lb. cart through a crowded grocery store. Your toddler is running down the aisles demanding cookies while doing the potty dance. The baby is cranky because she’s hungry and is no longer entertained by your funny faces. If you move quickly enough, you can get to the checkout line before anyone starts throwing Goldfish at the elderly woman in the deli line. You suddenly remember to cut through Aisle 6 and bypass the toy section. You’re tired and sweaty and almost home free until you drop an entire bag of groceries in the parking lot.

“Ma’am, can I help you with those?”

Big smile. “No, thank you. I got it!”

But you don’t “got it.” More sweat. Toddler pees his pants. Baby screams. WHY, oh why, do we do this to ourselves?!

I’m the first person to admit that moms are real-life superheroes, incredible warriors that power through life with strength and humility. Yet even superheroes sometimes need help. Where would Batman be without Robin? Hulk without Thor?

Moms, we need to start letting others help us.

When I was pregnant, I let the whole world help me. Opening doors, fetching ice water, carrying packages. There was no shame in my game. You want to do everything for me while I put up my feet? You got it! For some reason though, the second my son was born, my willingness to accept help went right out the window. I now feel immense pressure to get it all done, perfectly, and without asking for– or accepting– help.

My son is going to be four this year, and I still feel guilty hiring babysitters. I often turn down friends, family, and neighbors who offer to give me a few hours to run errands or get some rest. When the flu hit our house this winter, a super friendly acquaintance insisted on having chicken noodle soup delivered to my house. I refused to tell her my address and instead made homemade soup. I barely had the strength to stand. I over-schedule and then end up feeling defeated. I’ve decided this has to stop.

About a month ago, I was finally forced out of my comfort zone. While I prepared to cut the grass and pick up after our dog, I heard my son shout hello to our favorite neighbor. She came over. and we briefly chatted about her recent vacation and the weather. As I turned to start on the grass, the most amazing thing happened: my neighbor asked if she could take my son to play at her house for a half hour, so that I could get my work done. Cue my die-hard habit. I smiled and politely said, “No, thank you!” She persisted as my son begged for me to let him go. I took a deep breath and agreed. I promised I’d come get him the minute I was done. She shook her head and encouraged me to take my time.

I cut the grass as fast as I could. What if he’s being sassy? What if he’s hungry? When was the last time he went potty? I took another deep breath. My neighbor raised two beautiful and kind children; this wasn’t her first rodeo.

I rushed over as soon as I finished the grass. My heart was beating fast, and I expected confirmation that I should’ve kept him home. I walked in, and he was peacefully watching Moana on the couch, a cookie in hand, and a big smile on his face. He knew I was there to take him home, and he begged to stay. I needed a shower, and he was content. Here’s where the magic happened. I went home and took a hot shower. Alone. In silence. I applied a mask to my face and put a deep conditioner in my hair. I made a sandwich and drank a huge glass of ice water. I was calm and refreshed and ready to go get my baby.

When I picked him up, he was happy as a clam. I sat on my neighbor’s couch and indulged in girl talk. My neighbor is such a beautiful and wise woman. She is 12 years ahead of me in her parenting journey, so I sat there and soaked up her stories and advice; I never realized how much we had in common. It was soothing for my soul. Is this what it feels like to let other people help you? If so, I’m all in.

Mamas, I know it seems easier and faster to do it all yourself. Our routines bind together life’s chaos, and I know that deviating from plans can be terrifying. I challenge you, however, to face your fear and allow someone to help you. It can be as small as letting someone hold your bags while you maneuver the stroller. Maybe you can finally take your friends up on their offers to have your kids sleepover. Let your cousin come do tonight’s midnight feeding, so you can get a “full” six hours of sleep. Or hey, let someone who is already going to the grocery store pick up the milk and eggs and drop them off on your porch.

You will not be any less of a mama. You will not be weak. If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of your babes. It truly does take a village, but your village cannot help until you stop saying, “No, thank you!”

How do you plan to say “YES, PLEASE!” the next time someone offers up help?