Haha. Now you're going to have that song in your head all day. : ) Here's the video, but I just watched it and it's totally creepy. Not cool, JT. Not cool.
I heard an interesting statistic on the radio a while ago. According to some study somewhere, the average woman cries an average of 30-64 times a year. (I didn’t hear on the radio exactly where they got their info, but I Googled it and here’s the Wikipedia entry.) This seemed incredibly high to me. I cry probably 6-10 times a year, depending on how many times I stub my toe or if I’ve had a baby. : )
Seriously though, most of the time I just don’t see the point. When we packed up our house and left the home that I had brought all three of my babies home to, I didn’t cry. Even when Adaleine got burned last summer I didn’t cry. When we were in the emergency room with her right after it happened I didn’t cry. When I was with her in the burn center a couple of days later and they were scrubbing her arms and she was screaming and crying—I didn’t cry.
I know that makes me sound heartless. If someone else told me that they didn’t cry when their little girl got severely burned and was screaming in pain, I would probably think the same thing. But I love my babies very much and to use that old phrase, I hurt when they hurt.
In situations like that, I could very easily dissolve into tears and cry for my little hurt bug. But if I stop to think about it, it just doesn’t make any sense to me. If she sees me crying it will upset her more, right? Scare her? Make her think there’s something bad happening? Even if there were something to be scared of, even if there were something bad happening, wouldn’t it do more good for me to be strong for her? To look into her big brown eyes overflowing with tears and give her a smile to help her get through?
I know there are moms out there—and dads for that matter—that just can’t help it. And there’s nothing wrong with that! I don’t want anyone to think that I am calling them a wimp for crying about anything that they might experience. Life is hard and we all handle it differently and the things that affect me might seem silly to them.
I used to cry pretty regularly. Tuesday morning? Sure, I’ll cry about that. Puppy with no home? I’m on it. I’m out of Mountain Dew? Wait. I still kind of cry about that. : ) But I think I hit a point where I smacked myself in the forehead and said, “Brittany cut it out. Are the tears doing anyone any good? No. Do they give you a headache? Yes. Does it help anything? NO! So cut it out!” I’m affected but I’ve given up the tears.
Would you like to know when I cry? I cry when I’m up late at night and I think about my babies and whether I am a good momma to them. I cry when I listen to the news and I think about my babies getting hurt the way those kids on television are hurt. I cry alone. Very rarely do I cry in front of anyone, including my sweet husband. I don’t seek solace. I don’t want attention. I just get them out and move on. I don’t like to hurt in front of everyone.
I love the honesty of tears. I love it when someone can be vulnerable enough to show their emotion like that and be real with it. Maybe I’m just not that brave, I don’t know. But if you’re a crier and it makes you feel better, keep doing it. If you’re like me and the tears sometimes burn more than soothe, I feel your heart. There’s nothing wrong with you either way. : )