I just bought a new bed. When it arrived, I struggled to put it together on my own. I’m not very good at following instructions, and I couldn’t twist the Allen wrench tightly enough to prevent the bed from collapsing as soon as I lay down.
I thought about asking my son, who lives just 15 minutes away, to help me, but before I hit send on a text to him, I made one more attempt at completing the task at hand.
It didn’t take long for me to give up. Frustrated, overwhelmed, and in pain with blood blisters on both index fingers, I still did not reach out to him. Instead, I searched the Nextdoor app and Google for local handy people to hire. I checked Task Rabbit, but the cheapest tasker charged $150, which felt like an exorbitant fee for turning a few screws.
After a restless night sleeping on the mattress on the floor, I finally texted my son and asked him to come over to help me.
It’s hard for me to ask for help from my kids
I rarely ask my kids for help. It’s not because I worry about appearing needy; it’s because I’ve always been the one to help them.
As a single mom raising five kids alone, I did it all, from bandaging their wounds to teaching them how to ride their bikes, to resolving mishaps and misadventures.
I even took my oldest child to get his learner’s permit two days after my youngest was born.
I never taught my kids to help me
My kids are helpful people. With no prompting from anyone, they’d carry groceries for our pregnant neighbor; shovel snow from the steps of the elderly couple across the street, and even help prepare Shabbat dinner for the orthodox Jewish family nearby who could not use their appliances after sundown.
Not asking my kids for help is a me-thing. After all, in the family hierarchy, the mother helps the child, not the other way around.
This wasn’t an issue when we lived together. It was obvious then that my competency in running a household had limits. They could see that I couldn’t do it all, so they willingly pitched in to change lightbulbs, take out the trash, and de-ice the car.
My adult kids don’t know what I need
Now that we live in different households, they can’t be expected to know what I need. When the smoke alarm started chirping, I didn’t call any of them. I didn’t want to annoy them with such a small job, so I pulled out the step ladder and balanced precariously at the top of the stairs to change the battery myself.
When the low tire pressure light popped on in my car, I would have loved to ask one of them to stop by and add air, but I didn’t want to bother them, so I figured out how to do it myself.
I am no longer top of mind for them, which is appropriate and understandable. Today, others, including spouses and children, take priority. Watching them respond to the needs of their partners and offspring charms me and confirms that they are considerate, thoughtful people eager to respond to others’ needs.
I can still rely on my kids
A few months ago, a tsunami watch was issued for the coast of California. Knowing I can see the Pacific Ocean from my window, my oldest son called to ask if I wanted him to reserve a hotel room inland, away from potential waves. I was surprised and touched when he made this offer. I declined because the threat wasn’t severe enough, and I couldn’t imagine waves massive enough to reach my front door. The fact that he made the offer, though, showed me that when I have a need, I have a family who will respond.
The son I texted about helping me with the bed didn’t come. His wife did. She’s tiny, not even 5 feet tall, but together we got the job done. It helped me realize that not only do I have 5 kids I can rely on, as our family expands, but I also have even more humans who are willing to help me.
