Staying Sane By Asking for Help
Have you guys seen those new “pay-for parking-on-your-phone” apps? Love those things. Primarily because I’ve been the one standing at the high tech electronic parking meter thing pressing buttons and trying to follow the directions and place the magnetic strip in the correct direction while sliding it at the exact speed and torque required to successfully complete the transaction. Meanwhile, a line of people is forming behind me while I start sweating and swearing and get kicked back to the beginning of the menu because I did one little thing wrong. In the absence of the “pay-for-your-parking-on-your-phone” app, my usual M.O. is to shrug, turn around and say to the person behind me, “Well, the machine is smarter than I am.” Translation: Help a Sister out, or we are all going to be here until we collectively look like the identical twin of Father Time: weathered by the elements, encrusted with barnacles in our matted hair, cracked lips from continual sunburns, and creviced wrinkles as deep as the Grand Canyon.
Generally, the person behind me is usually all too happy to assist in the “I’ve-Lost-All-My-Motor-Skills-And-Brain-Functionality” crisis. Chiefly because they, too, have a vested interest in my completing the transaction so they can start theirs and we can both move on with our effin lives. Plus, no lie, it just feels good to help someone out and be someone’s hero for the day.
Why Don’t We Want to Ask for Help?
I’m not sure where the concept of having help, asking for help, or delegating around the home became a sign of weakness. Maybe it was during the 80’s when the “You can have it all mentality” became a mantra. But as most things do, upon closer observation, the opposite just might be true: asking for help could actually be a sign of strength.
I’ll never forget having a conversation with a friend from my older kids’ preschool one day. I had 3 kids under 5 years old at the time, and I was waddling around pregnant with my 4th. My friend was from France, and her husband was here working on a short-term project for Microsoft. They had one child. She had brought up the subject a few times before, so I felt like I could ask her if she was going to have another child someday. She looked at me as if I were crazy. “Not here- no way!” she replied. “Not until we get back to France where our taxes cover in-home help. You Americans are crazy to do all this yourself,” she said gesturing towards the myriad of children at my feet.
I was fascinated. I just couldn’t even conceptualize this, and went on to have the baby and continue a downward spiral into mental and emotional oblivion. 8 years later, when my surprise baby came along, I knew I had to do things differently than I had done before. I had proven that I couldn’t do it all myself, without a mental and emotional breakdown anyway. And man, if I had a crystal ball the day I had that conversation with my French friend, I would have never believed that years down the road to today, the A-Team house would basically be like a train station or an airport, and I would really need the cleaning crew and childcare team I have today. In all seriousness, I should call my contractor and have him replace our front doors with a revolving one. We have people in and out of our home *constantly*. My kids, their friends, their friends’ friends, their friends’ parents, *our* friends, their kids. And then there’s the hosting of events: dinner parties, school functions… and an endless processional of peeps and gatherings of various types. It’s just fine with me, seriously. It may sound too chaotic for some, but I love hearing the buzz of many voices and the fridges opening and closing and hearing late night giggles echoing up from the kitchen and waking up to a few extra bodies who weren’t here when I went to bed.
The Gift of Desperation.
One thing I knew for sure as I stared at that pregnancy test when I was already overwhelmed with 4 kids and two pink lines proved a 5th was on the way: I was going to have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable, and that meant getting into the game of asking for help. (And for the purpose of this blog, I'll refer to domestic help in general as "house angels", because I'm convinced that's truly what they are. :)
At first, it was unnatural and a bit awkward and crunchy. And I’m still not the world’s most top-notch communicator. That’s ok. I'm still working on it. (Yes, that's right....my BA is in Communication, what can I say?!?! ) I'm clearly an expert. Just kidding. I don’t know why I thought people were judging me, but I secretly feared it. What if people were thinking I was stuck in the 80’s not just with my pop culture references, but with my house decor as well? What if people see that I let my kids keep their rooms messy because I want them to be themselves in their space? I really didn’t want anyone washing my lingerie. Or finding my postpartum supplies of sexy mesh underwear and hemorrhoid cream in the bathroom cabinet. And I *really* didn’t want anyone folding husband’s laundered G-strings. (Ha! Just kidding!! Just checking to see if you’re still paying attention.) Anyway. You get the point!
But seriously? So what. I mean, really, who cares? Maybe someday some of your house angels will write a book about the craziest households they encountered, and you’ve given them some material. Be proud, sister, and consider yourself an influencer, like the rest of those YouTubers who become quasi-famous for inventing a life hack of utmost importance, like how to blow dry your hair in the shower, sans electrocution. I mean, as long as you don’t end up on “Hoarders”, consider yourself winning. When the alternative is you wind up exhausted, pissed off and resentful, it’s not too far of a stretch to wave the white flag of surrender and accept some assistance.
Getting Over It.
Even if you live by yourself: Someday, sometime, there will be a situation where others will be in your home other than YOU. Perhaps after you have a baby, or a surgery or something, people will come over and offer to help. First of all, let’s get one thing clear right out of the gate: You are NOT going to refuse the help, OK? I don’t care if you’ve been in the same PJ’s for 2 days and you could qualify for a job at Jiffy Lube because your hair is so greasy they could actually lubricate 10 more vehicles an hour just by you shaking your head. JUST SAY YES. You don’t even have to put on a bra- just grab a robe and OPEN THE DOOR. Or leave it unlocked if you don’t want to talk to anyone, and then shoot the house angel a text that says: “Door is unlocked. Can’t/Don’t want to get downstairs. Come in and make yourself at home. Feel free to do your thing. Thank You. I appreciate you.” (You can steal this text verbatim. I’ll never know! And even if you told me you stole it, I would be flattered.)
Just know that this well-intentioned house angel might help by unloading the dishwasher, or unpacking some random Amazon box and upset your entire apple cart by putting the stuff away in the wrong places. Shrug it off. Just let it go. Repeat this phrase “Done is better than perfect.” I mean, what’s the worst case scenario? You can’t find your printouts of Lionel Richie’s architect’s ariel view renderings of his beachfront home because someone has put them away in the wrong place? No big deal. Just call the person and ask where those drawings landed. You can put them back in their proper place another time when you’re in a better headspace. No big deal.
Remember that the house angel is human too. They (probably) wear underwear. They have most likely opened a drawer and seen worse things than your wig collection. If they’re judging you, you can’t control that so let it go. If you feel uncomfortable at first, that’s normal, but if it continues as time goes by, coupled with an uneasy feeling of a low-grade negative or creepy vibe? Please listen to your spirit and wish them love and light and peace and send them on their way!!!! Trust that the universe will bring along different angel(s). If the house angel is your mother in law? Well, that’s a whole other blog on boundary setting and I’ve definitely been there, done that, and got the T-Shirt for it. Stories for another blog, friends.
Be Kind. Pay them Well. Treat them with the Utmost of Respect.
This is, in my opinion, is paramount. You know the old saying “You get what you pay for”? Well. It’s very true. I know for me, I didn’t want someone watching my offspring who was not really feelin’ it because I went cheap on the salary. Nope. You can negotiate on a car or at a yard sale, but please not with your kids!! So find out what the going rate is and tack on 25% or so, and that way you’ll have your choice of top-shelf babysitters or house angels because they will want to come work at your place. I mean think about it. Are you going to take the job that offers less money out of the kindness of your own heart? Probably not- or if you do there’s got to be a very compelling reason why, like it’s your life’s passion and dream job. Or you’re Mother Theresa incarnate.
And for the kindness thing? If you for one second think it’s ok to boss someone around or bark at someone in your home, then we are not friends. The “Golden Rule” isn’t just some hokey jingle all of us were taught in kindergarten. Find out about the house angel’s life. Ask them about their dog who was recently spayed. Find out what they like to do and then when their birthday or the Holidays roll around, get a gift card for them that shows you listened. They are a person, just like you and me, and they have lives and loved ones just like you. We are neither above or below anyone- we are all traveling this big spinning sphere together and we deserve to honor each other with care and compassion and empathy. When you see someone as a person and not a title, the investment reaps a massive payoff in positive outpourings beyond your imagination. Trust me.
Pick Your Battles.
Just like parenting, having house angels comes with the challenge of not getting too uptight about every little thing. I choose a few things that are basically non-negotiable. These could be whatever it is that is of uber-importance to you. For me, the big one is germs. Yeah, that’s right, I’m a hand sanitizer nazi. You think I sound fairly laid back and casual?….Maybe…. that is till someone pukes and out come the HazMat suits and the bleach. In my house? If you’re sick, you’re quarantined in your bed- period. Don’t expect to be laying around on the couch with your dirty ass Kleenex box, moaning for sympathy and coughing up phlegm on innocent (healthy) family members. Nope. I’ll give you a water bottle, bring you some chicken soup, maybe an old copy of Victor Frankel’s “Man’s Search for Meaning”, and then I’ll toss you a bell. Ring it if you need something. Other than that? Consider yourself E.T. zipped up inside the Ebola-ish tent in the makeshift hospital at Elliot’s house.
For you, maybe you have organized your closet a certain way, and it will kill you to have someone mess with your system. Well, that’s great, fine, fantastic! Show the house angel your system and walk away. (Walk away translates loosely to “be available to answer questions but don’t stand over them and breathe down their neck while watching them do it, and then nit-pick at every single thing they do.”) With all due respect, it’s a closet, for God’s sakes people, let’s get a grip. Plus let me just cut to the chase, it’s annoying to be micromanaged while you’re trying to help someone out. Even as germ- insane and borderline OCD about germs as I am, one time forgetting to use hand sanitizer is not going to kill anyone. Hopefully.
VIP “Business Transactions”.
So back to the parking meter issue. When you put $ into the meter, we’re essentially asking for help: we’re saying, “I’m going to pay you to place my vehicle here for a few hours, and in return, you’re not going to tow it. Deal?” Even if you take an Uber or Lyft somewhere, it’s still asking for help, am I right? It’s like, “I am requesting your assistance in getting me from one location to another.” And we’re paying for it, so it’s just a business transaction. Same thing if we’re paying for house angels, so hopefully that makes the idea a little less crunchy. Yet consider taking it to the next level by giving the “business transaction” the VIP first class upgrade: investing in an appropriate level of authentic connection with those in your home. Keep in mind, whatever your house condition or crazy shenanigans your child can spin, if they are a professional, the house angel has probably seen worse. And if they haven’t, then yay for you, you win the prize for the most chaotic or disorganized space, and you’ve provided a challenge that will keep them interested and engaged- and sweeten the feeling of victory when they have improved upon the condition of the home/situation as they found it. It’s like those Room Escapes: It’s the prospect of the challenge and the champion-experience when successfully solving a conundrum! House angels love to help, so let them do their thing! The cherry on top is that they get to see you as a 3-dimensional person, instead of a 2-dimensional urban legend. And many times, you’ve earned a friend for life. Make it a win-win, you want them to keep coming back and enjoy being in your space, and in my experience, a little effort goes a long way. :)