Not Helping

We all do it – try to make a situation better, but actually make it worse. And then the inevitable happens, whoever we are trying to help rolls their eyes and says, “Not helping!” I know I have used that phrase before too. I used it just today when the dog tried to help me put the munchkin down for a nap, but ended up getting herself stuck in the nursery and barked, waking up the munchkin. “Not, helping dog. Not. Helping.”

Sometimes I’m the one who’s very unhelpful, making life difficult for myself. When I take the munchkin to the grocery store, I tend to narrate our shopping trip, to try to build the munchkin’s vocabulary and social skills, saying things like, “Time to get some milk! Milk is white,” and other things like that. So this past week we were at the store, walking past a large display of backyard barbecue foods, and the bottom row was being stocked by a younger gentleman employee of the store.

As we walked by I continued my narration of the shopping trip for the munchkin, “Wow! Look at those BUNS!”

This made the hard working store employee jump, and look up with concern. I realized how this must have sounded to him, and tried to correct my mistake by loudly adding to the munchkin, “For eating! Hamburgers on! Brown buns! AHH, let’s go get toothpaste!”

Not helping, self. Not. Helping. Then I hustled away toward the toiletry aisle, cheeks burning, pride in smithereens on the tile floor. I am my own worst enemy.

Sometimes, albeit rarely, the hubs is the one who is unhelpful. Several weeks ago the munchkin got sick, and was getting up in the night, inconsolable. On one of these sick nights, I went to get him when he cried in the early hours of the morning and came back to the bedroom where I was bouncing him.

Hubs: Oh, he’s up?

Me: Yes, he just doesn’t feel very good.

Hubs: How about I get up and make a bottle for him?

Me: That would be really helpful, thanks.

But the hubs didn’t move, but just laid quietly, while I continued to bounce the baby.

Me: Buddy? Are you going to go make the bottle?

Silence.

Me: Hey! You aren’t asleep! Aren’t you going to get up?

Nothing.

Me: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?

Not helping, hubs. Not. Helping.

By this time, however, the munchkin had fallen back to sleep being bounced, not actually that hungry after all. So, I maneuvered him back into his crib, where he slept until morning. In the morning when I confronted the hubs about promising to make a bottle and then not actually getting out of bed, he had no idea what I was talking about. He had been asleep for the whole conversation, and was not even aware that the munchkin had been up in the night.

When it comes to my life, sometimes sleep talking is just not helping.

 

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