Why do we have three kids? I mean, Hubby left this morning for a business trip, and I had no other choice but to spend my morning arranging support for the week. At this point in my life, at this point into motherhood, I am not afraid to ask for help. It’s ridiculous thinking I can make it through this week by myself. There’s getting three little people and myself ready in the morning, diapers, bottles, brushing teeth, packing lunches, doing homework, packing backpacks, dropping off, picking up, giving baths… so exhausted at the thought of it and that’s not even the half.
When we lived in Manhattan, I thought I was tough. I carried strollers up subway staircases. I refused help from strangers. Basically, I struggled. And for what? To prove that I could wear myself weary? Because I am a strong black woman? The kind that comes from a lineage of slaves so strong they could squat their babies out in the cotton field, pick them up, place them in a sling and keep picking? I may have come from that heritage, the generational curse of being too proud to ask for genuinely needed help stops here.
So this morning I lined up the team. Who is the team? Friends, dear, dear friends and neighbors that know what it’s like in the trenches. I have sent out the SOS, and between Betsy, Maddy, and Shannon I will make it through the week. Betsy’s husband is taking Gadget to school in the morning, Shannon’s husband is picking up Gadget from his afterschool program, and Maddy is spending the night on Tuesday so I can get in my 4:30am BGR run.
I spent today preparing for the week, and I am ready! I laid out the kid’s clothes, and upon doing so realized that all Gadget’s jeans have holes in the knee, so we did a Tar-jay run to get a wholesome pair. I filled up the gas tank at Costco, boiled pasta for the kids to eat for dinner, did laundry, organized the baby’s food, and managed to write this blog post. I hope the rest of the week benefits from my preparation, but we’ll see!