I moved my car to the other parking garage and lugged the car seat and Finley though the lot. We stood in line and ordered our tacos. Finley was so good and Braden sweetly made googly eyes at the ladies behind us. As I was paying, one of the ladies told me I had beautiful boys. I puffed up with pride a little and told her thank you. We made small talk about having boys and then she offered to help me carry my tray to my table.
And I hesitated a little--I really didn't want help. I'm not sure how I was planning to get a two year old, a carseat and a tray of food over to a table. Not to mention finding a high chair and (the horror!) filling my own drink. Even though I didn't want to, I graciously accepted the sweet lady's offer to carry my tray... and then fill my drink... and get us utensils.
Why was that so hard for me? Just last night Vic and I were talking about accepting help--and how hard it is to ask for help and accept help when it's offered. When we went to Whole Foods yesterday, I finally accepted the checker's offer to help me to my car--I have no idea why I always refuse to let them help me. It's like I think I'm on some hidden camera show and I'm going to win an award for multitasking. Um, no Rachel, let the nice people help you. Public confession time: I can't do it all by myself.
I'm so glad I let her help us--I'm glad she had the opportunity to bless us, and that I was able to allow ourselves to be blessed by her help. A little humbled and very grateful, Finley and I enjoyed our tacos.
And Braden, the sweetest most patient baby that I've ever birthed, sat under the table and played with the only toy I had for him, my running watch.
Mom of the year! (Also, cell phone photography is not my forte. Please Instagram, I need you for the Droid.)
Moral of the story: let people help you. Everybody wins.