Friday, July 20, 2018

One. Two. Three. Or something like that.

I wish you could have been a fly on the wall last night in our condo. Really.

Because we are here temporarily, we don't have personal care attendants to help with Benjamin's daily needs. So this summer, it is all Mom, all the time! So Claire offered to help transfer last night. She learned some great two-person-lift-techniques at camp last summer and thought they would help. The space here is tight though and so we were adjusting how to lift Benjamin from his wheelchair to the bed with very little space for the three of us. We made the plan and then I thought she said "On three, 1-2-3." And so I lifted. She belatedly lifted his legs which threw me off balance causing me to fall onto the bed with him and then onto the floor (just me -- B was safely in the bed) laughing so hard I was crying. We were ALL laughing so hard we were crying.  

Now, I should point out that Claire actually said, "Mom, count to three." I had misheard her. And that just made us laugh harder.

It was several minutes before I could get up. It was just so comical. (And was made even more so by the fact that mascara was literally running down my face because I had actual tears streaming from laughing so hard.)

Getting help was almost my undoing.




I like to do it all myself. I like to. It's not that I want to be a martyr or anything. I have just spent 21 years taking care of my boy (now a man. I know.) and I have a system, a routine if you will.

And though I know that he is taller than me. And I recognize that his strong personal care attendants lift him much easier than I do and so probably cause him far less discomfort, I still like doing the things that must be done. I still think that I can and should.





And so I recognize that as funny as last night was -- it probably emphasizes a problem I have with asking for and accepting help. And if I am honest, the problem is probably more with accepting that I NEED help than anything else. I was blessed with these three and it was a privilege to provide their mothering. And while they are young adults these days, it still fills my heart when they NEED me.

So taking care of the one who still requires my help physically, is probably helping me cope with mothering adults! I like being needed.



We are going to try again tonight. I will work on hearing the count this time. I will work on accepting the help. And I will work on acknowledging that I am mothering adults.

But ya'll might want to work on sneaking a video camera in to capture the fun. Truly.



Carol - The Blessings Counter

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