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Ever since I was a child, I have hated to ask for things. Even the smallest things. When people hear I’m an only child, they often say, “Oh I bet you were spoiled.” I won’t go off on all the reasons why this pisses me off – but basically, it has to do with a) judging me based on something that means nothing, b) way to be rude, asshole, c) you don’t know me so shut the fuck up, d) god, I’m so sick of stereotyping, and e) not knowing the meaning of spoiled. It’s the “e” that relates to what I have to say today.
I had a good life. I had toys and clothes and things and stuff. But to me, having things does not mean you’re spoiled. Not wanting for things (and believe me, I wanted) doesn’t mean you’re spoiled. To me, being spoiled is demanding things and getting them. And I never demanded. I rarely even asked.
I would want something and hope and wish and dream and occasionally hint, but I hated to ask. I can remember being very young (maybe 5 or 6) and picking up my grandma at work (Montgomery Wards “Buffeteria”) and dying for a donut from the donut case. I would hope that my Grammy or Gramps would read my mind and offer me one. I would look longingly at that case. And even though I knew they would give me a dozen if they knew I wanted it, I would never, ever ask. Not once.
I don’t know why asking for things was so hard for me. I can remember – as an older child – not wanting to inconvenience anyone, or worrying that giving me what I wanted would cause someone financial problems. But I felt this way even before I knew anything about finances and inconveniences, so it’s just something in my personality, I suppose.
And I imagine you are saying, well, it’s hard to ask for stuff. No, It’s not hard for me. It’s painful. I feel sick. I cry involuntarily. I hate myself. It’s like a little piece of me shrivels up and dies every time I have to ask for something.
I hate asking for things, I hate asking for help, and I hate depending on people for anything. And yet, depend on people, I do.
Three days a week, I drop my kids off at my parents in the morning, and they get them off to school and daycare. My girlfriend brings the boy home from afternoon band practice. Two of my friends often stop by to pick up the boy in the mornings when I am home, so I don’t have to drag the girl out. My aunt takes the kids to the gym when I can’t. If I have to work late, I call my dad or aunt. I hate it. I hate it with a passion, but I have to do it.
Every year, my company changes hours in the summers. We work an extra hour on Mondays-Thursdays and work ½ days on Fridays. So in the summers, I have to have my dad and aunt get the kids from daycare every day. Last year, my girlfriend pitched in, too. I hated it.
And when I say I hate it, I don’t mean to imply that I don’t appreciate the help – I do. I don’t know how to repay these people who I depend on. But God I hate depending on them.
Mr b and I rarely go out, because I hate to ask anyone to babysit. We don’t know any teens that sit, so it falls on family. And my family does enough. The thought of asking a friend makes my heart race and makes me feel sick to my stomach. So we don’t go.
So this week, I am extra stressed out.
First off, the daycare won’t be open Friday, meaning that I either have to ask my dad to keep the girl (I didn’t have to because he already told me he won’t be around). Everyone else works, so I am stuck. Sure, I didn’t have to ask anyone to watch her, but I have to ask my work to either take the day off or work from home. I don’t want to take the day off, since I need to hang on to my vacation days, but at the same time, I worry that working from home will be perceived as taking advantage of the company (and I would never, ever want to do that because I love Awesome Company). I hate it.
And then Friday night mr b and I have tickets to see Buddy Guy. Which means I have to ask someone to keep the kids. I hate it.
And summer hours are coming up and I will have to ask/depend on other people to get the kids for me almost every day. I hate it.
And kindergarten registration is next week and – of course – is during working hours (which – IMG I am so sick of the assumption that there is a mom at home to take care of stuff), which means asking to work from home that day, too. I hate it.
And then there’s pre-school “graduation” coming up. And a doctor’s appointment for the boy. And several kid-related events in the summer. And vacations. All requiring asking for days off/working from home/help with childcare/etc. I hate it.
And then finally the boy came home with his summer band practice schedule yesterday and when I saw that there will be mandatory practice all summer, Monday through Thursday from 8:00 – 10:30 am, I cried. I actually broke down and cried. Because, again, with the responsibility.
I need help. And I hate it.