Tag Archives: all the feels

Everyday Exiles, faith, mommyhood

Here’s to shedding some tears.

Leave a comment

This post also appeared on Everyday Exiles.

I’m a mom of three. I’m a wife. I’m a friend, sister, daughter, writer, singer, colleague, and foodie. Which of those things says I should cry a lot?

Apparently all of them.

Recently, I’ve found that I cry at almost everything. Things my friends say. Books I read. Podcasts I’m listening to (I’m looking at you, Annie F. Downs!). Songs I sing, or hear on the radio. Literally every time I crack open my Bible. It’s a lot. Am I too emotional about some stuff? Maybe. Am I going through something difficult? I don’t know. Probably. Aren’t we all?

Recently, my boys (ages 3.5 and 2) got their first “official” haircuts. They went to see my dad’s barber, in my hometown, as my parents’ house was literally going under contract that afternoon. It was a lot – an emotional day. There were some tears involved, and rightly so. My 11-year-old self was looking around, appreciating the house I’d grown up in for the first time. My 15-year-old self was remembering sleepovers and cramming for exams and late night ice cream sundaes. My 20-year-old self was wondering why I came home from college for the summer, because it was a little boring comparatively, but actually loving the slowness. My 31-year-old self (at present) was wishing my kids would grow up vacationing to that pool and huge front yard forever, and wishing that we had been able to come “home” a little more often.

You see? Tears flowing, even now, weeks later.

Call it hormones. Call it motherhood. Call it “too soft”. But I’m a crier now, more than I ever was. But I know that it just means that Jesus is softening my heart to some things that I haven’t been softened to before… Relationships with incredible women in my life. Shoes that are quite big that it’s my job to fill. My headstrong daughter with ideas all her own, my sensitive middle child with a need for a schedule and some sugar, and my baby, who I equally want to rush into independence and coddle forever. I am torn, in limbo between the already and the not yet, unsure of how to proceed. And then I sit and cry.

I’m not ashamed. I’m really not. I joke about it a lot – and you can call that my coping mechanism. But I really don’t feel bad about the tears I shed. Because it means that I care, I feel deeply, and I love big. I’m okay with those things, because it means I got those traits from Jesus. He cared. He felt deeply. He loved big. And if, in me, it manifests as tears, I’ll take it.

mommyhood, random thoughts

‘Twas the First Day of Kindergarten

Leave a comment

‘Twas the First Day of Kindergarten: An Ode to Parents’ Feelings

‘Twas the first day of kindergarten,
And all through the town
The fathers and mothers were
Not at all sitting down.
They were packing the lunches
And setting out clothes,
Filling the water bottles
And wiping their nose.
For, you see, they were trying
To keep themselves busy
So it’d be easier to hide
All the crying and wishing
For just one more day
With their sweet little dears.
So they washed some more dishes
To hide the falling tears.

But then they remembered
The tantrums and tears
Over small things and large things
Like scratches or fears.
They’d make mountains of molehills
And things inconsequential.
They kept saying, “MOM!”
Till there was potential
For a nervous breakdown!
Or at least an explosion
Of some stressful shouting
That would cause a commotion.
They remembered those times
That they’d almost forgotten,
Of cleaning up messes
And wiping all the bottoms.

But between feelings of love,
And feelings of relief,
The parents would still know
That the school day is brief.
Their children would return,
Tired but happy.
They’d want to chat, have a snuggle,
And maybe take a nappy.
Then it’s dinner, and a bath,
And send them off to their beds,
The moms and dads needing
To rest their own heads.

It takes energy to love
All those little ones well,
And to worry and fret
Over healthy food or weird smells.
We’re entrusted these kids
For the shortest of seasons.
How can we not also
Give hundreds of reasons
To be protective and kind,
Giving all the hugs and kisses?
One day they’ll be grown,
And we’ll be the ones who miss them.

books, random thoughts

Holding On To Childhood

7 Comments

(If for some reason you have missed out on the glory that is the Harry Potter series, there are spoilers below, so beware!)

Nerd alert: I am the world’s biggest Harry Potter fan.  

 Alright, maybe not the biggest. But I’m definitely one of them. I’ve read every single book at least ten times, and watched the movies countless more. I take all the Buzzfeed quizzes, I follow J. K. Rowling on Twitter, and y’all, I have a (very active) Pottermore account. I was sorted into Hufflepuff, in case you wondered, and I’ve totally gained respect for the badgers. When the final movie came out, my friend Lauren, Hubby and I planned a party before the midnight premiere. We invited all our (nerdy) friends, decorated my house in Gryffindor colors, and made a feast worthy of Christmas in the Great Hall, complete with fondant golden snitches and butterbeer.  

These snitches took HOURS.
 So imagine my delight when I hear that our local children’s museum’s annual fundraiser this year has a theme of my favorite childhood (life?) book series. I immediately went about recruiting friends, planning for a babysitter, and debating whether I would go with the suggested “spellbinding cocktail” attire or go straight for the dress robes. The chance to attend a real-life event based on the fantasy world in which I felt I could belong (I mean, did my Hogwarts letter get lost?!) was more exciting than I probably should admit. 

Naturally the evening was fabulous, with lots of friends, magic wands, House banners, firewhisky, and floating candles from the Great Hall. It was as if my childhood dream had come true. You see, I’ve grown up with Harry. I attended midnight book releases and movie premieres. I waited months (almost every time) for the next installment of the story, felt the exhilaration of nail-biting Quidditch matches, thrill of new love, and sadness of losing friends. I trembled in the graveyard when Cedric was killed and Voldemort came back. I wept uncontrollably  when Dumbledore died. I high-fived the nearest person when I read that Ron and Hermione finally got together. These characters feel like my friends. 

It may be a little ridiculous, but I think part of the reason I still love it all so much (aside from how obviously entertaining and endearing it is) may be that I’m hanging on to my childhood. I’m almost 30, I have three kids, I’ve been married for 6 years, and all of those things are so… adultish. But this piece of literature, this familiar world and enveloping story are all a huge part of my childhood, big enough to make me feel like I’m Harry’s age again whenever I lose myself in it. My excitement hasn’t faded with my knowledge of the ending. 

Any other HP fans? Or maybe you have another book or movie that you connect with your childhood? Tell me about it – I want to hear!