I come from a family of criers. This is a well kept widely known “secret” about my people.
My mom used to be the #1 offender in this regard, but as I get older, I think I have actually overtaken her in the rankings, (ahhhh, Grass-hopp-ah, the student surpasses the teach-ah.)
If I make it to work before I tear up for the first time each day, it is only because I am not fully awake yet. It doesn’t take much – maybe I think of how happy I am that our friends’ daughter cut a new tooth, or a moment of perfect laughter shared with The Hub the night before; or it is the other way and maybe Potter wanders in and I think of the inevitable moment that will some day come when he will go to heaven (I am not JUST a crier, I am also a total “worst-case-senerio-imaginer,” but that is a confession for another post – there is lots of crazy in Keri, I should spread it out.) Regardless of the cause, tearing up just enough to wreck the first attempt at Mascara application before I even get done with my morning routine isn’t at all a rare occurence.
And the morning ride to work ? Well my usual back-and-forth between Country and Christian radio stations is practically like setting off a tear-time bomb. All those songs about Daddies watching their daughters grow up and move on? Forget it – that is a guaranteed waterfall. Switching to K-Love to get some relief will almost certainly result in a heartwarming story of the power and healing of Faith and I am reaching for the tissues in the pocket of my door again.
That is pretty much how I progress through my days. Coworkers and friends alike are accustomed to seeing my eyes go misty, and heaven help the poor sucker soul who stumbles into a gathering of my family members. Happy or Sad, Proud or Pissed, Celebrating or Mourning – you can almost hear the collective sniffle if you pause to take it in. Hell, sometimes I think we cry because we just have a few minutes to kill.
The Hub has dealt with this propensity for ocular precipitation in various ways throughout the years. For what it is worth, I personally believe that he has an inner crybaby just begging to get out and join in the festivities. I have seen him cry exactly 3 times in our relationship: Once at my Grandpa’s funeral, once when we buried his great-uncle, and once at our wedding. I am laying odds that whenever Jr. joins the picture, he will stop fighting it and cross over to the teary side.
In the meantime his reactions have evolved – from horrified retreat our first big fight when we were dating, where I was sobbing so hard every word I said sounded like a really wet combination of a hiccup and a snort, and I swear I heard his sneakers making a peal-out noise as he hightailed it back to his own abode; to involuntary utterance, when he looked over at me shortly after our marriage during a re-run of the final episode of the original 90201 to see tears streaming freely down my face and blurted “ARE YOU CRYING!?”; to the bewildered resignation he seems to be currently practicing.
I have attempted to fight that tell-tale burning feeling behind my eyes, but it results in a phenomenon I have also only seen in my family, where tears actually squirt from my eyes and fly out in front of me. Trust me, I look considerably less crazy if I just let it come.
So there it is… You’ve been warned.
Now if you will excuse me, I have some mascara to fix.