Does Motherhood Make Us Bossy?

I've never been bossy.

I can distinctly remember several times when, as a girl, my Mom took one playmate or another aside and lectured her about bossing me around. Nobody's Mom ever took me aside and gave me the bossy girl lecture. In retrospect my Mom has mentioned quite a few times that she wishes she'd let me handle my own problems more often as a child, but that's another issue. (There are many, many issues.)

I've always been a sidekick, an appendage.

Until I became a Mother.

I don't know what did it. It could have been the complete exhaustion. Or the full arms. Or the ever-present current of panic and drama tinged with love and responsibility. All the forces of nature came at me in just the right quantities and suddenly I was *gasp* asking for help. (Can you believe that? I know, it's so unlike me.)

I was pointing, pleading, prodding. Phrases like "Honey, can you grab me a towel?" were reverberating off of my lips in such an inexcusably smooth manner that I began to wonder what sort of monster I'd have turned out to be had I birthed my first child at a sensibly young age.

The other day when my stepson Brian was over I asked my husband if he wouldn't be more comfortable in a pair of shorts and held them up for his consideration. He retaliated with, "You're not the boss of me, Devil Woman!" and a sideways conspiratorial grin at Brian.

Have I taken things too far?

I don't want to become like Kate Gosselin who publicly berated her imbecilic husband Jon (Why not John? But that's another issue.) on a routine basis. I refuse to give in to the temptation to martyr myself, and then lash out at my husband for not anticipating and undertaking what I needed him to be doing at the exact second and in the manner I thought best.

I say "Please?" a lot. And "Would you mind...", "Since you're over there, do you think you can...". I wince. I overcompensate.

Men have no clue what help we want and need. Yes, to us it seems flagrantly obvious, but to our guys it would be insulting for them to insinuate us to that we don't have things perfectly in hand. Or they've attempted to anticipate our needs and crashed and burned so many times that they're afraid to even try anymore. Or perhaps they're just as exhausted as we are. Or feeling lazy that day.

Should any Dads be reading this, please know that we won't be insulted, and we think it's refreshingly cute when you try to help but miss the mark. We catalog. We remember. We appreciate. We understand . We love.

And we know that you do too. ♥