The Day I Called for Help

When I was a junior in high school, I asked my mom at, oh, about 9:30pm if she had finished my choir outfit because we had our field trip the next day.  Her eyes got big, then she scowled, "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?  I don't even have it cut out!"  So, my mom and I both headed to the basement, measured, cut, and sewed the (hideous) green pants and suspenders.  We finished well after midnight.  My mom was not thrilled to be staying up and probably not happy about me staying up late either, but she had a point to make:  It's your responsibility, you figure it out, but I'll help you.

My mom was always there to help, now that I think about it.  Sometimes she'd ask us to wait (a second, minute, day, week - depended on the project), but she always helped us.  She still helps.  I call her all the time for advice with cooking, canning, cleaning...and she always has an answer or says she'll get back to me with one.

I learned at a very young age as my mom or dad would always ask "did you read the book?" before they would answer a homework question that I needed to research an answer on my own first; use my brain - the smart one my parents genetically and my Heavenly Father lovingly gave me.  I am so not a visual learner, though.  I'd sometimes read and re-read those math books and still not "get it."  Or, I'd read a definition out of the dictionary and not make a connection.  My favorite one was always, though, "Mom, how do you spell ********?"  "Go look it up!"  (How am I suppose to look it up if I don't know how to spell it!?, I silently screamed.)  So, I'd go again to my parents and ask for help.  And, they would give it to me - provided I proved to them that I actually had read the book (because sometimes I didn't).

My dad likes to tease me when I call and ask him questions.  He charges me $0.3765/hour, or some ridiculous amount of money.  He keeps an imaginary tally of how much I owe him.  I think I'm up to $3.8573 now - and that's over the nearly 17 years of living on my own.  Steep, huh?  I call him with all sorts of questions about Sunday school lessons, political matters, and gardening tips (my mom could answer all those questions, too, but ya gotta make dads feel good for something, right?☺)

My point is, my parents are always there to help me figure things out.  I guess I'm sort of the same way, too, but I tend to want to help first.  Our typical afternoon consists of me leaning over the counter as No.1 is doing his homework and correcting his spelling, math, reading (not necessarily tell him how to correctly spell the word, add the numbers, or read the letters, but having him try it again).  I'm trying to learn to sit back, let the boys try on their own, then help fill in the gaps.  I can go over his work after he's done and have him correct his errors.  I can come in after he says his room is clean and help him see that he missed a few Playmobiles or Legos.  I can let him try a song out on the piano then help him through the tough parts.  I like to get things done right and right now, but I need my sons to learn to learn, discover, create on their own.  I'll be there to help along the way...should they need it.

So, here's to standing by.

Here's to helping hands.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.






Oh, so, why did I call for help for today?  I was making a booster seat cushion for No.2 (his current booster seat has arms on it that don't fit under the table, so he's not up real close).  It required piping and the directions were not clear (online tutorial - I use the word "tutorial" lightly).  I called my mom.  She was able to, over the phone, guide me through the process.  Tah Dah!  Thanks, Mom!