Have you seen the blog, Reasons My Son Is Crying? If you have a toddler, it will read pretty hysterically. I first read it after I wrote a blog about ruining my toddlers life, and I nearly died of laughter. And maybe you have material you could contribute. I know I do. My children, specifically my 3-year-old, can be pretty outward with his emotions. But in all honesty, I can’t really blame him. Because… well… his mommy is fairly emotional. Yep… lettin’ that cat outta the bag. And so I suppose the onus falls on me because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

I’ve long had an issue keeping the tear ducts in check. From the time I was a young child, to a high schooler, and on into college, crying has been difficult for me to control, and so I’ve found myself fighting back tears far too often. Happy, sad, frustrated, mad… it matters not the emotion, this mama may appear somewhat manic. Not like, coo coo for cocoa puffs but rather, a bit of a weeble in the way of emotional management. It is really not an enviable trait, and I’ve tried very hard over time to quell the water works with some success. But on many occasions, the tears still fall. Even moreso when I am either post-partum or breastfeeding, which has basically been my life for the last 5 years. So I am fairly certain my two oldest children have begun keeping their own list somewhere, in hopes of compiling a future blog, called And Now Our Mom Is Crying. And I think it goes something like this…

…And Now Our Mom Is Crying…
{through the eyes of a 5-year-old}

// She was up for three hours last night hanging out with our brother // She can’t eat cheese. Or Chinese food. But we think she’s lucky because Chinese food is gross // My brother is crying. And flailing on the floor. In his room. And she is holding the door. Crying // My brother is screaming because he wants ice. But she already gave him ice // I shoved my Legos in the couch cushions. Deep in the couch cushions // My teacher told my mom I’m her blessing. And the sweetest boy she’s ever met // My brother wrote with purple marker on the white couch. And the desk. And the kitchen stool // She made us pizza because we asked for pizza and then we wouldn’t eat the pizza // Our littlest brother took a 4 minute nap. And is now mad about that // She asked us to play outside. And instead we brought sand in the house. It seemed the same // I hit her in the nose with a ball. She says I always hit her in the nose // Her boobs make milk. And this seems to cause all sorts of issues // In my dinner time Thankfuls, I said I was thankful that I have four grandparents // She says she’ll never be on American Idol because she’s too old // My brother and I told her we wish daddy was home all day // Three Little Birds is playing on the radio // I opened the door and told her “ladies first” // There is smoke coming from the oven and the cupcakes we made are no longer red. But instead, black // My brother is running around with his diaper off. And mom is laughing. And laughing. And laughing // My mom has friends who want to be mommies and don’t get to be // Our littlest brother does not like to be laid down. Or put on the ground. But he does like to be held. By her // Our dad let her sleep later than the rest of us // She keeps saying, “life is just more beautiful than I thought” // Our baby brother is the best baby she’s ever had. But he’s growing big crazy fast // I told my mom it’s her job to make my bed and my food // My brother took a drink of water, held it in his mouth, and spit it out onto the floor // My brother went to pre-school // My brother and I ran around the house and she couldn’t see us // My brother and I hugged. And then I told him I loved him. And he said “I wub you” back 


And that is just scratching the surface. Gosh darn it. I’m a crier, people. I get weepy. Sometimes because I’m upset, and about a quarter of the time because I am beyond frustrated, but also, since becoming a mom, I find myself in tears because so much of it reaches so deeply. The beauty of it all. And the fact that I get to live it? Well, on a daily basis, I count myself blessed beyond belief.

I’d like to have high hopes for the demise of future additions to the list, but I just can’t see it dying down any time soon. So, I imagine that as time marches on, their list of …And Now Our Mom Is Crying… will grow and grow. And even if it makes me a sap, the fact that they paid so much attention, well, that might just bring me to tears.

Ashli Brehm

Ashli Brehm = Thirtysomething. Nebraska gal. Life blogger. Husker fan. Creative writer. Phi Mu sister. Breast cancer survivor. Boymom. Premie carrier. Happy wife. Gilmore Girls fanatic. Amos Lee listener. Coffee & La Croix drinker. Sarcasm user. Jesus follower. Slipper wearer. Funlover. Candle smeller. Yoga doer. Pinterest failer. Anne Lamott reader. Tribe member. Goodness believer. Life enthusiast. Follow me at http://babyonthebrehm.com/