The Catbird Seat

Needy.

Something I am, but HATE to admit.

I’m like my own preschooler, struggling unsuccessfully to achieve a task that’s just above her skill level: “My do it! My do it!” she protests vehemently, pushing my helpful hands away.

Right now I am very needy.

Elizabeth has been on the “sick list” at our house for a while now. As of last night, we added Paul to the list as well. Let’s just say that all that he’s eaten for the past day has gone into “Overdrive.” He’s exhausted from the loss of hydration and the many nightly trips to the pot. I slept (or didn’t sleep, as is the case) on the couch, to try and give him a chance to sleep in peace when he wasn’t sitting on the toilet. [alas, I’ve been snoring lately, to both mine and my husband’s chagrin.] Jane, meanwhile, is fine and rip-roaring ready to go.

I realize that we’re gonna have to do something so that (a) Paul can rest, (b) Elizabeth can rest, (c) Jane can run and jump and use up her considerable energy and (d) I can get a break.

One of my bestest buds, Rinnie, offered the other day to take Jane for the morning while I cared for Elizabeth. I didn’t take her up on it.

After all, I’ve got this handled. I’m fine.

This morning, I’m NOT FINE, and I can’t pretend I’m fine anymore. But I put up a fight with myself (and God), before I admitted I need help.

Here’s the internal monologue turned dialogue…

What am I going to do? Paul needs rest (and so do I!) but Jane needs to get out, otherwise she’s going to drive us all crazy. I could take just her somewhere, but then that would leave fussy Elizabeth with Paul. That won’t work.

(God) Why don’t you call Rinnie and see if she could take Jane?

(ignoring God.) I guess I could take them both…oh, but what if Elizabeth gets fussier than she is now? I’d be so frustrated, I’d probably hurt myself.

Cathy, call Rinnie.

I don’t want to ask such a big thing of her.

She offered. She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t mean it.

She’s got enough on her plate as it is! Three girls PLUS a new baby is too much to ask.

She’s your friend. She wants to help you. Plus, who are you to determine what is too much for her? You don’t think Rinnie can decide for herself what she can handle?

(defensively.) No, it’s not that! I just don’t want her to have to take care of 4 KIDS by herself!

Who said she be by herself?

Well…I just assumed…

Uh-huh.

I guess she could call Pam.

That’s true. She could call Pam. And she probably will. But she wouldn’t be alone even if she didn’t call Pam. I’d be there, you know?

Oh. Right. But Lord, she needs physical hands to help.

Says who?

(defiantly.) Me.

Well, you’ve done it before.

Done what?

Kept 4 kids without another adult physically present.

Not with an infant, I haven’t!

Yes, you have. In fact, you’ve kept Rinnie’s girls while Elizabeth was still pretty little. Ever stop to think that Rinnie might be pleased to help you out?

(secretly.) I don’t need help.

I heard that.

(silence.)

If you don’t need help, then why are we having this conversation?

(silence.)

Just call her. She may not be able to watch Jane anyway, and you’d have martyred yourself for nothing.

(in my little girl voice.) I really want to, but she’ll think…

CALL HER!

Well…I…

(interrupting my hesitation.) NOW!

I hit the “Talk” button on the phone; the very same phone that I’d been holding in my hand this whole time. I had known it from the start.

I needed help today.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Heeeey. How are you doing?”

“Not good. Paul is sick with diarrhea, and Elizabeth is fussy, and I didn’t sleep, and…”

“Need some help?”

“Yeah. I do.”

I was so relieved, I could barely ask what I needed of her.

It was okay, though. She already knew.

Filed under: General, Catbird, Conversations with God, SAHM on April 7th, 2006