Nearly every parent can identify with the popular airline slogan, “Wanna get away?” After all, the job is hard and has long hours and requires a wardrobe where there is no distinguishing between daytime clothing and pajamas. And it’s why one evening a month many father’s return home from a day at the office and before they can set down their suitcase, have a soggy diapered child thrust in their arms, as their wife Danica Patrick’s the minivan out of the driveway for a Girl’s Night Out.
And while this scenario may not mimic the idealism of “Leave it to Beaver,” I would argue that a little time away from the job of parenting, is entirely healthy.
What is not healthy, however, is a condition very rarely talked about. A condition that can sneak up on a parent over time. A condition that jeopardizes judgment and can lead to unsciousness. A condition called SnowWhite-itis.
SnowWhite-itis is, by definition, a Stockholm-like syndrome where a parent becomes so entrenched in the work and grind that they forget that there is life outside of parenting. They ignore the red flags and symptoms alerting that some time away is needed and continue on past the point of exhaustion, logic, and into delirium until an alternative universe is reached where they no longer allow themselves to think that time away from the job is even an option. Not parenting becomes some sort of fairy tale––a hazy memory from a distant past.
The original case study popped up in a princess named Snow White residing in a land far, far away. As I recount her clinical journey, don’t be alarmed if you are like me and find yourself closely identifying with her––the once independent princess finds herself living in a home with seven dwarfs. Ok, so Snow White had a few more dwarfs than me, but still, it’s the same general idea––lots of little dwarfs running around.
You may be familiar with the story, but contrary to popular belief, the cautionary part of the tale is not just about the health hazards of taking poison apples from strange looking witches disguised as old women. No, the biggest lesson of the tale requires one to look a little more deeply, at all the facts and ask some important questions like: Why would an intelligent Princess like Snow White take an apple from a stranger? How does a beautiful and educated Princess become the type of person who would use such bad judgment? Leading to the most important question: would Snow White have eaten the poison apple if she had just called a dwarf sitter for a few hours, so that she could get away for a little shoe shopping, maybe a meal not consisting of the dwarfs left over chicken nuggets, or some scrap booking?
And the answer to the last question is, No. She would not have. Because what happened to Snow White is what happens to overwhelmed parents every day. One minute Snow White was an independent woman in designer shoes charmed by the adorability of those little dwarfs, and the next minute she was wiping the snot from their noses, unloading the dishwasher six times a day and wearing crocs.
I am sure that after day in and day out of Grumpy’s bad attitude, following Sneezy around with a vat of hand sanitizer, scheduling around Sleepy’s nap schedule, keeping Happy from getting into the Prozac, putting up with Doc’s god-complex, driving Bashful to therapy three days a week, and pulling the peas out of Dopey’s nose, Snow White had surpassed sound judgment and pushed herself to the point of no return.
A point where she was accepting poison apples as a sleep aid.
Rather than judge Snow White, I will now raise my hand and introduce myself, “Hello, my name is Tiffany Roach and I suffer from SnowWhite-itis. It’s been ten minutes since my last parenting breakdown.” I’ve been there. I’ve stood there covered in peanut butter and jelly, snot, and a myriad of other liquid stains on my clothing (that haven’t been changed in three days), while I pour apple juice into my coffee and hum Barney, all the while vehemently assuring my husband, “no, really, I’m fine. And I most certainly DO NOT have a problem!”
However, I am lucky. Because unlike Snow White, I have a Prince who can read the signs and has the good judgment to just pry the Lysol wipes and goldfish crackers out of my hands and shove me out the door, rather than wait until it’s too late and I accept the first laced appletini to cross my path.
I’ve learned that early detection is the best way to avoid falling victim to this condition. Therefore, from one dwarf handler to another, here are some red flags that it is time to put down the pull ups and bottle brush, call your husband, mother, or babysitter (even if they charge $27/hour) and get away:
- You find yourself humming only songs that are sung by animated puppets.
- When you drive by prisoners cleaning up trash on the side of the highway, you wistfully think, “Now, that’s the life.”
- You ignore the fact that your children are playing with fireplace ashes and vegetable oil, because it gives you 7 minutes of quiet.
- You no longer even try to clean your house and you’ve convinced yourself the brown stuff on the coffee table is chocolate.
- You are wearing crocs. And you have them in multiple colors.
- You consider trips to the dentist or the gynecologist, “me time.”
- You consider sedating your children.
- You consider sedating yourself
- When your husband asks how your day went, you talk only about your children’s bowel movements.
- When the stranger at the grocery store comments, “what cute children! I would love to take them home with me,” you hand her the diaper bag and keys to your car.
These are just a few of the ways to detect the onset of SnowWhite-itis. If you are a parent out there wavering and unsure of your diagnosis, the best way to proceed would be to err on the side of caution and go ahead and get out for a bit. After all, the story of Snow White is a fairy tale and there is no guarantee that a Prince will just happen to be passing by for a quick kiss, should you succumb to unconsciousness due to ingesting a poison apple. And let’s be honest, it’s even less likely he’ll want to kiss you in that three-day-old applesauce soiled shirt.
