“Help out…”
Shared by Breanne Smedley
Last Thursday I was doing my normal grocery shopping after picking Charlee up from my dad and stepmom’s house.
I normally love Thursdays for this reason.
My dad and Trina live close to Trader Joe’s, a store I like but don’t normally shop at because it’s across town.
Picking up Charlee nearby gives me a reason to shop at this cute little store.
Charlee and I stroll the aisles.
Try samples.
Find new, interesting foods.
Charlee smiles and says hi to the clerks.
I usually pick up fresh flowers.
However this Thursday in particular, my schedule was tight.
I had to stay at school longer so I picked up Charlee and only had 30 minutes to get to the store, get shopping done, and get out.
“No problem, I can make it happen!” I thought.
As I was pulling into the parking lot, it started to downpour.
The only spot I could find was in the back.
I got Charlee out and made a run for the store as we both got soaked.
Charlee thought it was funny, luckily.
I got her strapped into the cart and started speed shopping through my list.
As I put items in the cart, Charlee insisted on turning around in the seat to try to grab them out of the basket.
If she couldn’t reach what she wanted, she proceeded to whine and cry.
If she could reach it, she would giggle a little before throwing it out of the cart onto the ground.
Bell pepper. Bag of kale. Carrots.
If she could reach it, it was leaving the cart.
It wasn’t cute anymore.
I still haven’t figured out how to reason with a 1-year old.
Especially in public when I feel like everyone is staring at me, watching what I’ll do.
Should I say “NO! Charlee!” sternly?
Or should I try to explain it to her?
“Charlee, when you throw food on the ground, it can ruin it, make it dangerous for other people walking, and it makes mom frustrated because we are trying to do this quickly and I don’t have time to stop every 10 seconds to pick up food from the ground!”
Ugh. That doesn’t seem like it would work.
I gave her my keys to distract her a bit while I raced to finish.
With a cart full of groceries, I made my way to the checkout.
Only to realize my wallet was nowhere to be found.
I asked the man at customer service if I could leave my cart and check for my wallet in the car, then bolted out with Charlee back in the rain.
Every step, wondering what I would do if my wallet was not in the car.
Luckily, it was there. I ran back, Charlee bouncing on my hip, rain plastering her hair to her face.
I was already over my allotted 30-minute schedule as I watched the man at checkout slowly and methodically scan each of my items.
“I know what this is! A test in patience!” I thought to myself as I forced some deep breathing.
Finally, he finished and asked the normal question.
“Do you want help out with his ma’am?”
In my mind, “No, I GOT IT!”
Outloud, “No thank you!” as I held Charlee on one hip and tried to maneuver my cart with my left hand.
Out to the car, I struggled getting Charlee in her car seat as she kept reaching for the balloon in the seat next to her.
I quickly put the groceries, now soaked, in the back of the car as one of the soggy bags ripped.
I ran my cart back to the stall, jumped in the car, and sat for a second, overwhelmed.
Help out would have been nice. I would have gladly helped out any mom in my same situation.
Why did I refuse it when someone asked me?
In Rising Strong, Brené Brown says, “Giving help can occasionally feel vulnerable; asking for help always means risking vulnerability.”
It seems to always come back to this. Vulnerability.
Asking for help looks weak. I can handle it on my own!
When really, it requires strength to choose vulnerability.
To receive and accept help.
To model as a leader for my daughter, students, and players.
There are times when I do need “help out.”
The hard part is to take it.
===
#MindfullyEvolving
Comments
Post a Comment