Want to Know a Secret?

Want to know a secret?  Listen closely, I will whisper it to you. . .

I can't do this.

Shhhh.  Promise me you won't tell anyone.  I have them all fooled.  Everyone thinks I can.  Boy, do I have them snowed over.  I really can't.  I must give the impression that I can because I have lip gloss on.

I am speaking for a lot of special moms when I say that a universally cringing comment we receive often is others saying, "You were certainly chosen for this because there is no way I could do it."

Guess what, I can't do it either.  I just don't have a choice.

The first words that I speak to myself every morning as I look at myself in the mirror at 0:dark thirty trying to ignore the muffled sounds of Bridger screaming down the hallway is, "I can't do this."

How is that for a daily positive affirmation?

The last words I speak every night as I lay in bed are, "I don't know how I did it today." But somehow I did.

It is amazing how much we can say 'we can't do' because we can get away with not doing it.

To those people that have severe back pain and say they "can't get out of their bed" -- if there was a fire in their house that was about to engulf them, I bet they could move.

I would love to say that my insane back pain doesn't allow me to move.  But I don't have a choice. So I just push through it something fierce.

I would love to say that I can't take Bridger screaming for hours, days and weeks in a row for no apparent reason.  I don't have a choice.  So I take it.

I would love to say that lifting and hauling a 70 pound floppy lump of cuteness dozens and dozens of times every day throughout the house and every time I need to leave the home was too heavy.  But I can't.  So I do it.

I would love to not walk in the IEP room to fight discuss and sort out the mess of all messes created by those who are on the other side of the table who decided they didn't need to do their job.  But I look around and I am the only other one there. So I walk into that room and confidently take my seat. I am always wearing fresh lip gloss to those meetings.

I would love to say that I don't have an extra 4 hours of my day everyday to handle insurance/iep/medical matters for my special needs child.  But there is no other choice. So I find the time.

Yes, what everyone who offers that comment intended as a compliment needs to know is:

1) Nothing special about me.  No super powers.  Not chosen.

2) That they could do it too, if they had to.

3) I can't do this.  I really can't.  I just don't have a choice.

So now you know my little secret.  Please see past my freshly washed hair, shaved legs and matching earrings.  They are a front.  Deep down I feel every moment of every day that I just can't do this.

Now if you'll excuse me, someone suggested that I might have a cape hidden around here somewhere.  I need to go find it and put it on because, otherwise, I just don't think I can do this tomorrow.

But what I already know, is that somehow I will.