I don’t know if it is the time of year (likely excuse) but I have been acting like a child. I am not a child so this poses a problem. Toys R Us had a commercial, years ago (maybe still) and the jingle went like this: “I don’t want to grow, I’m a Toys R us kid.” I feel like that sometimes. I don’t want to grow up and be responsible for a household, an education, a child, my animals, and all of the other details (those bill collectors) that go along with being an adult. The semester is coming to an end (I should be writing an essay right now) and I am in desperate need of some sleep and some help. Have I asked Spirit for help yet? No. But as I was in the midst of a temper tantrum, or mental sizzle, I was offered help from a very close friend. I said I was fine, that I didn’t need it, I would be ok. That was a lie. I am not ok, I do need help. So why is it so hard to accept it? I watch Christmas shoppers filling carts up with gifts, toys that will be forgotten by next Tuesday, after the garbage collector hauls off the bags of ripped wrapping paper and yet another pair of slippers that have been shoved back under the bed. How is it easier to give than it is to receive? What is it about accepting help, or gifts, that is hard to do? Is it the fact that if I accept help or a gift I will be expected to return the favor? I know that is not true. For me, it could just be that if I accept help I am actually admitting that I am not Wonder Woman, capable of juggling household, fulltime education, single parenthood, check book balancing, grocery shopping, meal preparation and riding a unicycle while drinking a can of soda and reciting the alphabet backwards. Who am I if I am not Wonder Woman? Am I, gasp, human? I think this calls for a little Divine Intervention and a whole lot of humor. I can’t do it all. I can’t accept help graciously. I could do with that help. Time to give my inner needy child a little compassion, she’s not a brat, she is in need of a little TLC, and a big cup of cocoa with mini marshmallows.