A Little Help From Our Friends

I have always been the independent sort. My mom tells me I was walking at 9 months of age (which I am pretty sure meant I didn’t crawl long enough and which accounts for some sensory integration problems that plague me to this day, but let’s not go that direction with this story). When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time in my room reading or writing or just being alone. I moved away from home and don’t see family all that often. I didn’t do much by way of study groups in college or even in law school. I lived alone after only one year of living with roommates. I have generally always made my own plans, done things my own way, and limited the time I spent worrying about what other people think about it.

And then I become a mother, and the lives of people who stayed in their hometowns surrounded by extended family and childhood friends suddenly made sense to me. I now envy those friends who have mothers who live next door and who watch their kids once a week. Those people who are super tight with their roots now seem wise.

For a variety of reasons, I am where I am, trying to recreate the village that it takes to raise children. My chosen sisters are my village. And my neighbors lend a hand as well. They rally round when I ask for help and I cannot begin to thank them because they have saved me from certain disaster repeatedly. (And by disaster, I mean when the mommy just can’t cope and everything falls apart at the seams.) From running errands to staying with my kids while I went to the hospital to see my husband, from food deliveries to cleaning the kitchen, friends have made life work for me when I really needed support.

All of the kindness of my friends has gotten me thinking about the village concept. The fact is that everyone knows to rally around a family with food and favors when a baby is born, or when a family member is hospitalized. Yet, there are times, when that baby is 18 months old and tearing the place apart, the older kid has the stomach flu, dishes are piled in the sink, things are tough at work, the cat vomited on the rug, and it’s just too much. But because we are overwhelmed by the pile of responsibilities and worries in those moments, we don’t even reach out to ask for help because it seems impossible.

But on that same night when getting dinner on the table seems a monumental task, your neighbor made a pot of spaghetti to feed an army, and puts half of it back into the fridge because her family didn’t eat it all. Then she dumps some of it into the trash in a few days because they never do end up eating it. And the fact is that your neighbor or your friend across town would have happily helped with dinner or anything else if only they had known you needed it.

Absent some sort of psychic ability to know when our friends and neighbors need help, all we can do is ask them to let us know. Now that I have been on all both sides of this common story – the giver of meals and support, the receiver of meals and support, the silent sufferer who could really use meals and support, and the person with extra food that probably won’t get eaten – I have resolved to do a couple of things.

First, I am offering help when I know someone might need it. When a friend has a baby, I’ll offer the meal train. When someone is really struggling with work, I’ll call and see if she needs help.

Second, I am just going to do what I can when I can manage it. I don’t always have the capacity, so I’ll do something when I do have capacity. The other day I dropped off some muffins for a friend who helped me out with food several times. She didn’t know it was coming, and I just left it on her doorstep. I wish I could know when she really needs help and whisk in and take care of her troubles. I wish I could show up in the middle of the night and rock her baby when he wakes so she can get some sleep. But I can’t do those things. So, I brought her some muffins.

While maybe what she really needs is someone to pick the toys up from the living room floor, I hope the muffins will make that job a little easier this time. If nothing else, muffins can remind her that I am here if she needs me. That’s a one size fits all type of gift.