As anticipated, last week was rough. I went into it without a lot of energy and my sense of stress and overwhelm already at a high level. The kiddo had a lot of activities that made for a couple of late nights for both of us, on top of a work schedule that was pushing me to take on challenges I didn’t particularly want or feel capable of. Everything just looked like a slog of responsibilities and nothing inspired any real joy or excitement in me.

When my kiddo is struggling, I try to impart on her that she’s not alone and doesn’t need to be. And that when it’s possible, the best way to deal with times of stress, overwhelm, and uncertainty is by leaning on people around you and pushing through. Make lists; tackle things one small step at a time. If you can’t run, walk; if you can’t walk, crawl. Just keep moving forward any way you can and celebrating all of your positive actions, no matter how tiny they may seem to you. This is easy advice to give someone else and hard for me to take myself. When I struggle, I don’t want to lean on anyone and I don’t feel like anything I do is worthy of celebration – it all just feels inadequate. But this week, I DID take the small steps. Pot Roast helped keep me company on those late nights waiting up for the kiddo. I pushed through at work with lists and busy, productive mornings – even if I didn’t accomplish everything, I didn’t stay in bed with the covers over my head.

And I showed up at the first marching band tailgate for the first home football game with a big bowl of pasta salad and another newbie neighborhood mom in tow. She had texted me earlier that day telling me she was having a similar week of challenges at work, she was overwhelmed and tired, had never been to a tailgate and didn’t know what to bring; she didn’t even have camp chairs. “Don’t stress about it. Just bring juice boxes – I heard the kids love them – and I have two chairs, you can sit with me,” I said, without adding that her relying on me was like the blind leading the blind.

As an introvert, and a full time working mom, I frequently feel like I don’t need community or new friends, because they just end up being a drain on my already limited time and anyway, I get enough social stimulation at work. But sitting at that tailgate, hanging out with other marching band parents and petting dogs and swatting away bees while eating really unhealthy yummy food off paper plates balanced on our knees, I felt like it was the best time of the week. Even us newbie moms who felt like it was going to be just another challenge to ‘get through’ found ourselves relaxed and calm. No one needed anything from us except to be there and enjoy ourselves.

So I sat back and took a deep breath; I had another helping of someone’s macaroni and cheese, popped a juice box, and watched my kid fill her own plate and sit in a circle with the other band kids. The hum of laughter and parent conversation rose and fell around me, and later on, we all sat together on the bleachers and watched the halftime show under the Thursday night lights.