My Do It!

Oh. My. Gosh. 

Watching a toddler struggle vainly to put on his own jacket, trying to find the arm holes, fumbling with the zipper and refusing help while insisting, "No, my do it!" is about as frustrating as watching Sisyphus roll his boulder up the hill.

Just let me help you, kid!!

He gets one arm in and then reaches around for the other arm hole. But what he doesn't realize is that the act of twisting his body around is causing the jacket to also move, therefore making it impossible for him to get his little hand through the other hole. It is driving me crazy! I just want to reach over and grab the jacket and shove his little arm though so we can all move on with our lives!

L also has the dogged determination to do all things on her own. If she is trying to spell something, don't you dare help her out by supplying the correct letters. You'll get hit with, "Mom! I already know that! Why did you tell me?!"

"Sorry. I was just trying to help."

"I don’t need your help! My do it!"

Sigh.

Don't get me wrong, I am not one of those sentimental moms who gets all upset that their kid is growing up and doesn't "need" her anymore. Heck, the sooner they can do things on their own, the sooner they will leave me alone and I can get back to focusing on me. I applaud this stubborn independence. Since L has learned to get herself dressed, brush her own hair, pour her own cereal and milk and turn on the Wii, I get to sleep an extra 20 minutes in the morning. At this rate, I’ll be sleeping even later while she walks to the end of the driveway and hitchhikes to preschool.

What I find frustrating is how long it takes them to do whatever it is they are trying to do when they say, "My do it!"

Kids move at a snail's pace as it is. They exist in some la-la, dreamland where the world revolves around them, time is immaterial and nothing ever really happens until they get there anyway. But my kids are wrong. The world revolves around ME. And they'd better step up the pace because Mama has places to go and people to see.

I know I wouldn't be doing them any favors if I simply stepped-in and did everything for them. I am certain my future daughter-in-law would be furious to learn that she would be responsible for putting Z's hoodie on him every day because he never learned to do it himself. And I am even more certain that she would resent having to wipe his hiney every time he went potty. (Assuming, of course, he ever decides to start using the potty. If he doesn't, I probably won't have to worry about ever having a daughter-in-law.)

I'm sure as a child, I was the same way. But, as I got older, I became very happy to let other people do things for me. That's why I have house cleaners and lawn guys and a pool boy. And a husband. I have no idea how to pay bills online nor do I care to learn. I "balance" my checkbook by going online every other week to see if there is at least enough money in the account for one more trip to Target. Make no mistake -- I am a kept woman. And I am one hundred percent at peace with that.

Don't be haters.

The only time I find the old "my do it" attitude kick in is when I am driving the car and my father is sitting in the passenger's seat next to me. That man will forever assume I don’t know the proper route to take anywhere we go. He has a very good sense of direction -- but so do I. And sometimes I even know a better route than he does. I get the passive-aggressive statement, "I was wondering why you decided to go this way" or the innocently condesending question, "Don't you think it would have been better if you had taken that road?"

And I swear, if he tells me to "take a right up here" and I already know that I'm supposed to take a right up there, I whine, "Dad! I already know that! Why did you tell me?"

"Sorry. I was just trying to help."

"I don't need your help! My do it!"

Sigh.