Yesterday at the mall with my daughter, while in line at a store, there was a mom with one of her two stroller-bound kids having an absolute meltdown. Nothing would soothe this poor toddler. She wanted out of the double stroller. Her back arching in protest, her face red with tears streaming down it. (Probably the mom too at this point.)
I gave the exasperated mom a look of sympathy as if to say “Yeah, been there, done that and it does get better.” But when she looked back at me, all weary and tired and frustrated, my eyes started to well up. I was on the verge of tears myself here and frankly I didn’t think the sales girl or the mom could deal with more tears, so I swallowed hard and tried to send them away and we hightailed it out of there.
Beautiful things. Sad things. Funny things. Happy endings.
I mean EVERYTHING. War movies, cards, Geico commercials, Funniest Home Videos, my kids, my husband, my dog. Perfect strangers even.
What can I say? I am a crier.
I first noticed the waterworks a few days after giving birth, for when I was about to go home from the hospital with our new little bundle, I burst into tears. I know this is not uncommon, because with birth comes a lot of stuff along with that baby (and half of your uterus) — emotion, crazy up and down hormone fluctuations, tiredness, weariness and a whole lot of happiness. With emotions on the surface, yeah, most new moms find themselves crying. A LOT.
But that day when I was prepping to leave, it was the first time I was literally sobbing inconsolably for no apparent reason. (Although looking back it surely was that I was scared to death and happy as a clam at the same time.)
Later on at home when I cried, it felt a little funny telling my husband that I was crying at, say a baked potato, or just because I looked at my son and he was so beautiful and I was in awe that we made him and I don’t know what I am doing and I burned dinner.
But still, I cried. He hugged me and soon that post-partum weariness that made inexplicable tears was replaced with a happy kind of crying that, in nine years I have not been able to turn off.
So I embrace it. Go with the flow. My kids have just learned that the sniffling at the end of any movie, regardless of subject matter, from Meet the Robinsons to Gettysburg, is just me crying. Again. They turn and roll their eyes. I say “What? You’ve never seen a mommy cry?” and wipe and sniffle away.
There are some days when I cry when my kids tell me they love me, when our old dog blinks his loving eyes at me, at church when we sing. I cried the first time my son caught a baseball, the first time he rode a bus at preschool, when be broke his arm, when he first looked at his sister, the first time each kid walked. When I catch my kids being compassionate to others, I cry. Seeing the end result of my daughter playing in my makeup bag, more tears.
Watching Christmas movies on the Hallmark Channel? Forget it, I am a mess. I even cried once watching Jim Cantore’s exuberance on the weather channel. It’s just so awesome to have that much passion about weather!
An elderly couple holding hands, a family in the park enjoying the day. The sight of a family of deer in my yard. All tear jerkers for me sometimes.
I well up over anything that involves a cute furry dog. Reading romance novels has driven me to bawl. I sometimes choke up while reading books to my kids. The same episode of Franklin since my son first watched it more than five years ago still gets me and almost every time I hear Taylor Swift’s Love Story I end up a sobbing happy mess.
So much more. You get the picture. I cry. My family deals with it.
There really isn’t anything like the power of a good happy cry. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over.
So, I will continue to cry and find joy in doing so. Although I should invest in some waterproof mascara and a good eye gel cause all this crying is making me puffy.