blogging is for cry-babies

The deep emotion of embarrassment can still overwhelming me if I think of my mother crying throughout my childhood. My mom cried. A lot. At funerals, weddings, family gatherings, church pot lucks, reading the newspaper, telling a story, saying hello, eating ice cream (actually - never eating ice cream… she says, in fact, that is why she eats junk food – because she learned long ago you can’t cry with a whole candy bar in your mouth).
In short – I am now my mother. ‘Cause people, I need a whole lot of candy bars these days.
My public crying life started at 18 when I first cried over a ridiculous baby animal video – my friends stared in disbelief and it has all been downhill from there. The overflow of tears may have worked to my advantage in some marriages but Jarod learned within the first year that they didn’t really mean a whole lot other than “She’s ‘feeling’ something,” therefore he might as well just wait it out. He actually had to accompany me at times when I went to talk to professors because otherwise the poor old guys wouldn’t know what to do with me. He’d say, “Don’t worry about her crying… she just strongly disagrees with xyz.” Ball-babys generally aren’t considered very intellectual. Hormonally it has just gotten worse with each child, and genetically I think was screwed from the beginning. I used to think it was just mom, but now I think that this is why my dad doesn’t speak publicly ‘cause he would just cry too. And folks, I am telling you it is humiliating enough for me.
But here’s the deal. I can’t shut up… and if I cry when I am joyful, sad, angry, fearful, deeply amused, frustrated, passionate, in large gatherings, when I’m nervous, in intimate groups, where I’m comfortable, when I talk to people I care about, when I talk to people I wish I knew better, etc., etc, I pretty much can’t communicate at all anymore… except through my blog. So thanks for reading – it seems to be the only way left for me to speak through my tears.
(P.S. I volunteered to ‘speak’ to the ladies of our church 2 weeks before I leave my home, friends, family, caretakers and confidants; in a room suffocating in estrogen. Sometimes the wretchedness of my own ideas amazes even me…)
(P.P.S. The hopelessness of the situation finally hit me last night in church when Jude’s little friend was collecting the offering and he dropped a few nickels in… and I started crying.)


Here are some photos I’d probably cry about if you were around….




Jarod swears a kid is going to loose a head sitting in his lap... but look at that smile






She's getting cuter... but I kinda' already miss her "lump with eyes" stage.





They're never gonna play ball in this yard again.... excuse me I need a moment






Tusha left for Honduras last week...







Dad returning safely from Indonesia after handing out of 20,000 Bibles, and his mother is still alive ... com'on you'd cry too... wouldn't you?