From the mind of the mother of 3 children.
A post in which I propose and prove the following theory: “help” is – in fact– a form medieval torture for mothers.
Help Is Not All That Helpful
I don’t prefer “help”.
Often times (read: every… time…), help is, actually Not. All. That. Helpful.
It’s not that I want or need to do all the work or make all the effort.
I am a HUGE fan of minimal effort, but not a huge fan of “help”.
What I am trying to communicate is: If I have to do the work I want to control the pace, the rhythm, the progress. Progress people! Steady progress!
OR
I want someone else (read: adult) to do all the work. And not just the “start” but also the “finish”. You see a “start” without a “finish” is not “ALL”. And if it is not ALL then it is not HELPFUL
I write this with great guilt. Inspired by the guilt, even.
My kids love to “help”, and this is a hard area in my relationship with my children.
It is especially difficult when cooking. Especially. I need to let them “help”… because, for me, that is what a good mom does… teaches, nurtures.
I want to be that for them. I really do.
Of course, not yelling would be a “good mom” thing also.
Baby steps.
