I hate crying.
I mean, personally. If you need to sob it out, please go ahead, I will get you a tissue and offer an awkward hug. I understand the importance of tears as an emotional release valve. But for myself, I have been socialized to restraint.
I cried a lot when I was in elementary school. It was my go-to stress reliever. I remember bursting into tears constantly. This earned me the disdain of my young colleagues, who found my antics babyish. By the time I hit puberty, I was constantly fighting myself to never cry in public. My stiff upper lip was hard won. I am not convinced this is the healthiest mental habit I have acquired, but it is part of who I am. It is not, however, who my children are. They are young people learning their emotional ropes.
Crying is the song of the season.
By my count, each of my daughters cry four to eight times a day. I am not an expert, but comparing notes with other parents leads me to believe this is not unusual for their age. I want my girls to find their own way, and feel free to express themselves. I am also quite aware that I do not want to project my own crying aversion on to them. When you are a little person, crying is the most effective communication tool you have. It is literally what you have done since you drew your first breath. The trouble is that as you get older, your emotional needs get more complex, and it takes a while for your communication skills to catch up. Little kids pull the crying trigger very easily. I try to keep all that in mind and put on my Patience Pants when I deal with the great flood of tears that flow from the two small emotional powder kegs who call me Mom, even when the reason for the tearful wailing is absolutely absurd.
SO WHAT DID WE CRY ABOUT THIS WEEK?
I saw a spider in the garage last month. I just remembered it now.
The house is too hot.
I wish I had silver shoes like the ones I had when I was two. No other shoes in the world will ever make me happy again.
The cat was laughing at me.
Someday I might want to drink coffee and I might not like it.
The red marker has dried up. THE RED MARKER HAS DRIED UP!
My sister climbed out of the car through my door. No one can use my car door but me.
Mommy bought the wrong brand of cinnamon.
I made a sign so she (sister) would know not to fight with me but she still fought with me, even though there was a sign telling her not to.
I don’t want to eat a candy right now. I don’t want to save it for later. I want to want the candy but I don’t want it. Make me want the candy!
No one laughed at my fart joke.
Which of life’s frustrations make your kiddos burst into tears?