This morning, I found myself watching Mia struggle with her socks, which were stubbornly inside out. She was determined to turn them right side out and put them on all by herself. When I offered my assistance, she shot back with a familiar refrain: “No! I can do it myself!” This reminded me of how the cycle of parenting often reflects our own childhood behaviors. As her frustration mounted over the socks, I couldn’t help but recall how irritating my own insistence on independence must have been for my parents at her age. Even as an adult, I find myself navigating life like a robot, plastered smile and all, proclaiming to everyone—my family, friends, and even myself—that I can handle everything solo. I can get the kids to school on time, care for the baby all night, pack lunches, whip up homemade dinners, and engage in fun activities with the kids—all without any assistance. I can do it! Really, I can!
Except for those moments when I can’t.
Truth be told, it had been a particularly tough week. My partner, Jake, was finally back home after a long business trip. Although he had traveled before since our youngest, Lily, was born, this was his first extended absence since our family support system had dissipated. I had been on my own, day and night, with all three kids. It felt like I was in a relentless, exhausting cycle, much like a 24-hour news channel—always on, always repeating myself.
Jake left early Monday morning, and by noon, I realized I needed to lower my expectations. Laundry would pile up into fluffy, unmanageable heaps throughout the house, and while we might catch the school bus, we might also miss it. If we drove, we’d make it just in time for the first bell, but we would never arrive early. Homework would get done, and the kids would be fed, even if that meant serving scrambled eggs for dinner more often than not. When Mia asked why we weren’t doing anything special during our “Mommy/Mia day” together, I felt the weight of exhaustion. I hadn’t slept for more than a few hours at a stretch in days! Still, I rallied and we made hamantaschen for Purim—six, to be exact. It wasn’t much, but it was a shared experience.
However, by Wednesday, I realized my mantra of low expectations wouldn’t be enough to get me through. I had to take a bold step and accept help, or even more daunting, ask for it. Just imagine Mia, frustrated with her socks, but as an adult, ten times worse—that was how I felt admitting I needed assistance.
So, when a neighbor offered to walk my son, Leo, to the bus stop, I said yes. When a friend called and asked to bring dinner, I said yes—and that delicious meal lasted for a couple of nights, and maybe even one breakfast. When another friend offered to pick Mia up from piano class, I said yes. And when a lovely friend wanted to hold Lily so I could enjoy a moment of peace with a cup of coffee, I said yes.
That one simple word—yes—was transformative. It’s almost embarrassing that it took me 36 years to realize its power. Those small acts of kindness from others helped me survive until Friday when Jake returned, and I could finally take a breath and enjoy a moment to myself with a cold drink and some fries, away from the little ones I love dearly but needed space from.
As I grabbed my keys, I called upstairs, “Need anything?” To which he replied, “Just you.”
“That’s easy,” I said. “I’ll go get her. Be back in an hour.” I need them all—my partner, my kids, and the community around me. Yes.
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In summary, embracing the help of others and allowing yourself to say yes can be a game-changer in managing the chaos of parenting. It’s a reminder that while we may strive for independence, we are not meant to do it all alone.