Not everyone loves this.  When it comes from the right people and in my hour of need,  I welcome it, adore it even.  I feel taken care of , watched out for,  led around safely by the hand like a toddler crossing a busy intersection. Here are my favourite directives thrown at me in the early days of separation, from my best people;

-re do your bedroom. Immediately.  It is the place you start and the place you finish each day.

-put something nice on we are going out.

-cut your hair,  you  look like an orphan.

-renegotiate your mortgage

-throw out those black pants, they make you look homeless.

-I am coming over every Wednesday night to discuss your future.

-I am setting aside two hours a week to work on graphics for your company.

-you are going to Jamaica for Sam’s 40th birthday. Not everything you do should make sense all the time.  It is a gift from me to you and you must take it. And your kids will be staying with us for the week.

– have more fun. Are you having fun? Make sure you are having fun.

-have we talked about fun? We need to make sure you are having fun.

-get your work done. Then have fun.

– What are you doing for fun?

-Hang on, you look like you are having too much fun.

-Have a glass of wine every night.

-I am worried you are having too much wine at night.

I am a recovering WASP trying to emulate a Latina with  Buddhist leanings (odd combo), and we are taught to ask permission. I think what we need to do actually is not say ” what can I do to help?” but just do it for the person (this is for inner circle friends and family only-see stadium seating and pity from the playground posse in case you are confused). It is too much of a burden to ask the wounded to figure out what to ask for (although I have gotten plenty good at this) or to feel okay about asking at all.  Barge in a little.  You will know if you have over stepped and you will be forgiven. You may not forgive yourself for not being useful.

Read – I am wearing the shorts now- new post on urbanmoms flying solo -my other blog.