The watch changed today. Oh! I don’t mean Standard Time to Daylight Savings time. Nor do I mean the timepiece I wore on my wrist before a phone that takes pictures replaced it. No, I’m talking about the “watch” that one daughter, Carolynn, performed for 19 days while her sister Leslie and husband Martin were away for 17 days. At 7:00 this morning Carolynn set off on her long drive home. At 10:00 I picked Leslie and Martin up at the airport. Both emotional occurrences for seldom-emotional me.

For weeks I fussed at my daughters’ conniving—as I perceived it—for Carolynn to “hang out with me” while her sister and brother-in-law were away. Not that I didn’t appreciate the concern. Not that I didn’t appreciate Carolynn’s visit. Not that I didn’t appreciate the fact that I’m slamming right up against 84—although I don’t appreciate that fact—and at my age a trip on the basement stairs could be detrimental to my life or limbs.

Leslie and Martin, who live just over a mile away, share the brunt of  “looking after mom,” even though they don’t call it that.  They check on me a lot, unobtrusively, but not as unobtrusively as they suppose. Although 496 miles distant, Carolynn sends a cheery good morning message almost every day and reminds me frequently that any time I need her she can be here in 10 hours. Leslie helps impressively when I am muddled over a simple issue, and she makes vats of soup and countless muffins to share.

How lucky am I?

“Here’s how to respond when your kids reach out to you about your well-being” is the title of an article I clipped from the paper last October. Written by Heidi Godman, Harvard Health Publications, the piece offered advice and insight from Abby Altman, geriatric psychologist at Harvard-affiliated Brigham and Women’s Hospital and Dr. Suzanne Salamon, associate chief of gerontology at Harvard-affiliated Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center.  “You’ve spent most of your life worrying abut your children’s health and safety, and it can feel uncomfortable and unfamiliar when the roles are reversed,” they say.  “You should keep in mind, that these conversations come from a place of concern and love.”

I know that.

“How much should you allow your kids to help?” was the section that grabbed my attention. “Be frank about asking them to do whatever you need,” they say. “You may not realize that you need help. But there are times when you may.” They use the example of forgetting to take medications or not getting timely refills. I haven’t reached that stage yet, but I was having a terrible time opening  jars and bottles to the point I’d set the them aside until Martin popped in. One day last May he arrived brandishing a present for me—a jar opener! He was proud of himself, Leslie less so because she’d asked him to get one when he was out shopping. He was to bring it home so she could wrap it appropriately for Mother’s Day. Either way, stubborn jar lids haven’t given me any trouble for months.

Asking for help doesn’t come easy to me. I’d guess it doesn’t come easy for most mature  parents. We want to believe we can still take care of ourselves, even knowing we can’t do it all anymore. We want to believe we’re as spry as we were when they were toddlers, though in truth any toddler in our lives now is likely to be more than we can handle…or lift!  We want to believe we’re as knowledgeable about the world at large as we were 60 years ago, but the fact is, so much that goes on in our world today is way beyond our ability to comprehend.  At least that’s true of me.

Slowly I’m accepting help from Martin on the little things I used to deal with, or that Peter dealt with.  During his long illness I had to manage things that I’d never considered before.  And I did OK-ish. Now that I’m that much older I’ve dropped the ball…and I never was very good at catching any ball, anytime, anywhere. So Martin reminds me, or takes over for me, looking after the car for instance, or he bails me out with computer related problems.

Bill, Carolynn’s husband, is equally helpful, but he is 496 miles away. I keep a list of certain jobs for when they visit. Sometimes I message him with a picture of something that is broken and he helps me fix it via texts. This past Christmas he made quick work of  small tasks on my Billy-do list. Not on my list was an emergency repair accomplished under stress. As has happened rather frequently over the years, the drainpipe from kitchen sink disposal to the sewer line got clogged. Jammed solid! Bill got to work but it wasn’t as simple as plunging, pouring chemicals down the drain, or using a snake. No, this was s saw the pipe apart in two places, drain it into strategically-placed bucket in the basement, put it back together again, all before the rest of the family arrived for dinner.

Nowadays, when Leslie holds out her hand to help me exit her car or Martin’s truck, I accept. Or when Carolynn cooks most meals when she’s here “hanging out” for nearly three weeks, I don’t argue. When I spend a weekend with Leslie and Martin at their little river hideaway and Leslie tells me to sit and relax while she cooks, I do. When Carolynn insisted she’d prepare and serve friends I’d invited around when she was here, I gave in.

The experts say, “Don’t feel that you’re bothering your kids. You’ve been trying to stay as independent as possible. You’ll be healthier if everything is in order, and your kids will likely be willing and happy to assist you.”

I’ve been convinced.

“Responses to your adult children should express some appreciation for the feedback like, ‘Thanks for thinking of me.'”