Waving My White Flag

“Where is it? I know I set it down here somewhere…? Must’ve been at the end of my last pregnancy. Or maybe it was that time a bus hit my car the same day I got a speeding ticket and spilled taco sauce on my new work pants. No, wait, I set it in the bathroom next to the scale because I use it there a lot.”

Ah HA! I found it. My trusty white flag. I shall now stand in front of the mirror and wave it. Proudly? Not so much. Necessarily? Abso-freaking-lutely.

I am human. I am a human mother who is simultaneously raising humans, cooking dinner for humans and cleaning up after humans. I drive humans to and from the homes of their small human friends and try to see other adult humans only when and if time allows. I am only human. I am only human. I am only human.

And today, I barely look human.

As a parent, I’m going to guess I’m not alone in these thoughts: We have kids and (seemingly overnight) are expected to evolve into super humans. Don’t get me wrong – I kind of dig being a super human. But there are times when the status doesn’t suit me or I don’t suit the status. Failure takes full ownership of the day and my hands fly into the sky faster than I can eek out a much-needed curse word. Be strong, they say? Be strong? What if I don’t want to be strong today.

Today was a white flag day.

I think I experienced about four minutes without a dying-seal-like whine coming out of my baby’s mouth. I faced spontaneous fevers, Nutella-smeared pants, and a seven-year old’s discovery of the phrase, “Fine. Give me a time out then.” I had the privilege of saying “No” about four billion times to a variety of overly-needy people and actually found myself angry that I’d lost a dozen games of Sneaky Snacky Squirrel to a four-year old! I had deadlines pushed up on me, pressure pushed down on me and I most definitely took one too many Tinker Toys to the head by the child who is still learning how to control his awkward but powerful limbs. I bought coffee on my way in to Target and wine on my way out. I washed pee sheets from the top bunk, defrosted beef blood from the microwave, and dog poop from the front sidewalk. I made spaghetti for dinner and forgot to actually eat any of it because my daughter was late for her first dance class and I still didn’t know if her tap shoes actually fit on her big, honkin’ boat feet. I tripped over a chair in the dance lobby (where parents go to relax) and gracefully landed on my hip, quickly readjusting myself like nothing happened with no giveaways other than my throbbing side and beet red face.  I neglected to give my poor terrier the 20 minutes of physical therapy she needs on her limping back leg because apparently the day just got too busy. And the cone? I mean, does anything make a human feel more guilty than sticking their animal in one of these awful plastic contraptions?

As part of our super human parent strength, we become professionals at playing pretend. As the day wound down, I pretended that I didn’t want to cry. I pretended that I didn’t care that the house looked like vomit and I hadn’t spoken one single word to my husband. I pretended that it was 9:00 when it was only 7:30 because mama just needed the house to be silent. I pretended that I wasn’t exhausted from the 3 hours of sleep I got the night before or stressed at the idea of the long hours of work that lay ahead of me after they all fell asleep. I pretended a lot. I pretended – not like a human – but like a super human. A super human parent with super human powers to super human ignore almost every super human thing that pissed me the hell off!

While my daughter’s attempt at Rice Krispie treats left my stove and floor sticky and burning, and my son splashed the entire contents of the kitchen sink across the fully-stocked countertop, I thought…”You know, it could be worse.” You guys, I KNOW….I know it could almost literally always be worse.

I know burning dinner and losing your keys and sticking your dog’s head in a device that makes her look like a hairy flashlight shouldn’t be day-breakers. But sometimes, you guys…sometimes they ARE. There are days when they will be and you will come home and search high and low for that white flag because you just want to call it quits. Just for today. Just for one measly, powerless day.

And you can. Because you’re only human. Maybe even super human. But human nonetheless.

At the end of the day, I know I have actually survived, contrary to what my tattered white flag may represent. I look to my husband to remind me that I can’t do it all. My kids are asleep in the wrong beds and my house is turned completely upside-down. Tinker Toys are strewn across the living room, my bowl of spaghetti sits cold and deserted on the kitchen table and my husband is tiptoeing around me like he could set off a nuclear bomb if he makes the wrong move. But…survival. I didn’t give up. I. Didn’t. Give. Up.

I had a friend tell me, when moods like this hit and your strength is depleted, step back and focus on what makes you happy. Take your dog for a walk. Play board games with your kids while ignoring the piles of laundry that surround you. Nap. Read. Get a drink with your girlfriends. Visit your local bakery and order wine, a chocolate bar and a quiet corner to do some writing. When your arms fly up and the curse words are simmering at the end of your tongue, it’s time to reprioritize your needs. Not the needs of all those other humans in your life. Your own needs! Give what you can where you can and then check back in on life. Reset. And the strength will return.

There is a difference between giving up and knowing when you’ve had enough. As super humans, we need to make finding that difference a regular superpower because it will save days and tears and white flag raisings. It will help us remember that we give our all on a daily basis and if that’s not enough, we need to reset. It’s ok to realize that you are someone who’s had enough, so long as you also remember you are someone who IS enough.

So tuck that flag away, but never get rid of it because there will be times when you don’t want to be strong. And you don’t have to be. You just have to be willing to come back from it. Like super humans do.