Because, Big Mommies Don’t Cry and So What?

 

My 13 year-old thinks I have mad "mommy face" skillz…it's my new Twitter look…way different from the more professional and much happier-looking me (see sidebar at right) right?!?!?

My husband, Garth (not his real name) comes from a long line of Thompsons, whose family roots date back to early American history, while I am descended from…well…pretty much everyone (who would admit it, anyway) or, nearly every East European nation, depending on where its border was situated, at the time.

You think that's funny, you should have seen our wedding!

My husband agreed with the wedding planner (who just so happened to be, you know, me) that we should give up the tradition of separating the groom's side from the bride's side at the church and opted to toss everyone in and mix 'up both sides of our family, but good.

Or else, risk the chance of befuddling our guests into choosing between the extremely wet and wild crowd stuffing each other full with tissues, or the more straight-backed and dry-humored side of the church.

Guess which one my side of the family would have sat on and guess who cried SO HARD, just the other day, our kids thought it somehow MUST have been their fault and quickly started blaming each other (big time) and then BEGGED to move in with their grandparents???

Go ahead, I'll wait.

Because, nothin' stops a kid, in his or her tracks, faster than seeing their mom cry and perhaps thinking that their dad, you know, MUST HAVE grounded me, too.

Garth and I had a fight (I know, act surprised anyway) and no, my husband did NOT make me cry.

[raises fist]

But, I gave him a really big headache. 

No, I didn't hit him — nor, do I take any form of domestic violence…lightly — but, I was angry.  Because, he chose to turn his back on me and walk away.  So, I followed him into the playroom.

To make a long story short (you're welcome) Garth (not his real name) offered to take our youngest to the Girl Scout thingy, while I grabbed the other 3 and drove to my folks' place.

Because, I made my mother cry…on the phone…earlier, that morning.

At first, no.

Silence.

One beat, two beats…

Click.

[a few minutes later]

BWAH…SOB…SNORT…BWAH!

I lost it.

Even though I try really hard NOT to make a habit of losing it, in front of my kids, I just shook my head and waved them off as if everything was, you know, normal.

[a little while later]

Because, I am such a giver, it makes you sort of wanna break out into song, don't it?  It's okay, though.  My mom and I…we worked it out.  Told her that I was pretty much tired of trying to make EVERYONE happy and decided to, you know, JUST STOP.

"I'm sorry, I'm fine now."

We were halfway home and I was pretty much, you know, dried up from crying…but, judging by the look on their faces, I'm guessing my kids a) don't know what the hell I'm talking about, or b) don't care what the hell I'm talking about, as long as I'm not angry at them.

"What's for dinner?"

I had a really good time hanging out with my folks and NOT just because they listen to me, either.

"Don't worry yourself so much, you are doing a wonderful job and you're kids will grow up just fine, anyway."

Okay, maybe it helps…a little…because, correct me if I'm wrong, us moms just don't hear enough of that, either.  Is it really a whole lot to ask?  Just a little simple bit of praise.  It's all I was looking for, in the first place, really.

[later that night]

This time, I was NOT the first one to apologize.  In fact, I don't think that we had ever even reconciled.  We were, however, both too tired to fight…anymore.

"Are you sleeping here, or with me?"

Garth (not his real name) has taken to sleeping on the couch and swears that it's because our bed is, you know, just NOT comfortable.

"I'll  be up, soon."

I bit my lower lip, hard.

"Promise?"

He did and I doubted it.

[much, much, much later]

I felt him crawl in behind me and, as he gently grabbed my waist and pulled me closer, I squeezed my eyes tight and promised myself that I wouldn't cry.

Silence.

Then, he spooned me and…DAYUM…if, I could NOT remember the last time I felt so loved…makes me sort of want to break our cone of silence and bust out into song, really:

Nah, I'm no rock star, but — after almost 19 years of marriage — I feel it safe to say that ALL of us moms could do with a little Pink…every now and again…not to mention, making up can be really prettiful.

[reaches for pink lip gloss]

Guess what, tonight…I'm gonna start a fight…bah-dah-dah-dah-duh-dah…plthbplthb!

© 2009 This Full House – All Rights Reserved.