Whenever anyone asks me how I'm doing, my standard reply is "fine, thanks. How are you?" It doesn't matter if I'm particularly happy or sad, I say that I'm fine. Fine has been my answer for years. I don't see myself changing any time soon.
It's the same whenever anyone offers to help me. I always say "thanks, but I've got it" or "thanks, but there's really nothing you can do" or "thanks + insert variation of rejection of help." I don't know why my initial reaction is to turn down offers of help but it is. And just like "fine," I don't see "thanks, but no" disappearing from my vocabulary in the foreseeable future.
You guys, I am not fine. And I really could use some help. I know that you can't come pack up the condo, or make the monsterpups behave, or change Shawn's schedule so that he's in town for more than 5 of the remaining 11 days before we move, but I would really appreciate it if you could please remind me that I'm not going to get a gold star for doing all the things all by myself and that working myself up into a froth will result only in a headache and not a damn medal hanging around my neck.
Numerous lovely people have offered to help me pack the condo or just keep me company while Shawn is out of town. Shawn's dad is here for the summer and he actually offered to pack the condo. Not help pack, no. He offered to do it all. And yet this weekend I found myself alone, lying awkwardly on the kitchen floor, trying to shimmy blindly on my back (because my belly was getting in the way) arm outstretched, trying to reach the various baking pans and other rarely-used items that had migrated to the very back of the lowest shelf of the horrid cupboard that stretches the length of the oven (seriously - worst cupboard ever. It was difficult to navigate before I got pregnant, I don't know why I thought I could do it now.) And there was this horrible moment, just for a second or two, where my arm cramped up and I couldn't move and I couldn't shimmy because I needed my arm to help me push off and I thought I was going to be stuck there on the kitchen floor until Shawn returned Tuesday night. Obviously my panic was a little premature because my arm stopped cramping and I managed to get myself up off the floor, but it was eye opening for me. I can't do it all. I cannot tell you how much it pains me to acknowledge those words.