Getting the help you need means letting go a little
By Tania Schmidt | Community columnist

I am a control freak. There, I said it.

I have a vision of how things should be and I enable that vision at work and at home. Most of the time things pan out well. That is, they work out according to my simple plans. When they don’t, I get agitated. I’m not entirely a Type-A personality, but I like to see things my way. Who doesn’t?
As of late, I have had to rearrange my perceptions of control. You see, in early January I gave birth to our second son. After almost eight years of ironing out the wrinkles from the birth of our first son, our household was turned topsy-turvy despite my months of planning.

Every new mother has visions of grandeur when it comes to feeding, diapering and midnight lullabies. We see soft fluffy blankets and cute little outfits, and we completely ignore the idea that there may be more laundry, stinky garbage and lots of spit up. I think this may be nature’s way of assuring procreation of a species capable of cognitively understanding the negatives that come along with having a new baby.

It is the reality of infant child rearing that leads me to give up some of the control I held so dear. Frankly, I need help. But how can a mother with my personality traits find help? Who is the unlucky volunteer who will offer to assist, but will likely do nothing according to what I had pictured? Poor Toby. My husband and best friend has stepped up and helped with so many mundane daily tasks around our home.

When Toby began helping me, I’ll admit to being a naggy bride. As my time was spent comforting a screaming, poopy newborn, Toby was vigilantly stuffing the laundry machine or emptying the dishwasher. I carefully watched everything and would remind him that wasn’t how I would do it. If you are looking to maintain any sort of marital bliss, the aforementioned setup never works, and I would not recommend it. It wasn’t long before Toby would look up from whatever he was doing and say “do you want to do it?” Of course my answer was “no.”

I quickly learned to keep my mouth shut, but that didn’t mean I liked it. It took almost a month of fretting for me to finally throw my hands up in the air and proclaim: “he really is doing a good job!”

To my surprise, my son still gets a hearty breakfast every morning and a healthy snack for school. His communication notebook gets signed and his homework gets reviewed. The dishes are put away, even though there are instances I cannot find what I am looking for during the day.

The laundry is folded and stashed slightly kiddy-wampus. I notice the buttons are not all closed and the hangers are facing two different directions; but I’ll be darned, the clothes are put away. I have come to realize that just because Toby does things differently does not mean he is doing them wrong. After all, I cannot manage the outcome if I manage the means.

Teamwork is essential in every marriage. Before our special delivery, that teamwork was getting to be like second nature. Each person had their specified tasks and life traveled at the speed of light. We took each other for granted. Toby didn’t realize just how much laundry I do in a week or how much can be accomplished in a mere 20 minutes in the morning. I took for granted that Toby is extremely capable in his own way and all I have to do is step back and ask for help. He was not raised to be Suzie Homemaker, so I need to give him a break. When I swallowed my pride long enough to do so, I found out that letting go of some control in my home also meant gaining some much needed time to care for our new addition.

Sure, I’ll probably never find the garlic press again, but it’s all worth it. I am learning to accept that the house runs just as smoothly with my laundry folded at different seams. I have learned more about myself throughout this month than I ever expected to. If someone special offers to assist you, accept the help graciously and try to understand how they do things. Usually they’re just working the opposite side of the same fence.

Tania Schmidt is young going on old and not sure why. She thinks it has something to do with being a fulltime wife, mother, employee and a caretaker for an needy wiener dog named Ducky. She lives in Minnesota City.

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