My own undoing

The other day I was in the shower and both my kids came knocking at the door for assistance with various things no less than 3 times each. This occurred all while John was available in the living room. 

I finished my shower in a huff, got dressed, and marched into the living room geared with a snarky comment. "You definitely have your kids trained!" I grumbled as I filled cups of water, helped find missing toys, and retrieved snacks. 

After completing my laundry list of pending demands, I plopped down on the couch and suddenly, like lightening, something occurred to me.
He had not trained them to be this way. I had. 

For the last 5 years I have placed myself in a solitary rapid response team role for my children. Any request or demand, and I'm on it. It's my job. The complication arises when I forget that Daddy is just as capable of a parent. If I am incapacitated (ie shower, bathroom, making dinner, etc) there is no reason I should be inclined to feel guilty for uttering the phrase "Go ask your daddy". Instead of the classic "Just give me a minute..."  

I've trained my kids to always... and I mean always come to me and I've trained my husband to tune out their requests because I am so prone to handling it myself.

I am a mother not a martyr.

I should always do my best by family and work hard to take care of them, but there is no shame in asking for the assistance and support from my partner in crime.