You know what happens to a woman who gives birth and:
A) Is too embarrassed to ask people for help and
B) Makes it a point to say ‘No, I’m totally fine!’ to friends who actually make offers to come by to help?
She goes and cries in the corner because she wished she wasn’t such a schizo about accepting help from others.
It’s been several weeks since the baby was born and sure, I’m starting to get used to the sleeplessness (eew). But juggling two children who are demanding the same amount of attention on different schedules makes me seek comfort in a box of Sees Candies Nuts and Chews.
I’m actually shouting from the mountaintop, “I NEED HELP! I NEED A BREAK!,” but I’ve got my hand clamped tightly over my mouth as I yell it.
Confused? It boils down to my pride, really. It’s masquerading as a stinky need not to impose on people.
Could it be tied to my broken image of what a mom “should” be? I strive to be the perfect mom. I know she doesn’t exist. You know she doesn’t exist. We all know she doesn’t exist, and still I strive to be her – like Carol Ding Dang Brady, but without the apron, live in maid, and the perfect 70s mullet hair-do. I really need to work on this. Anyone wanna help?