Momma's Tears

I heard an old Irish saying once about a woman's bladder being too close to her eyes, generally meaning that women cry a lot. Not all women of course, but I am one of the ones whose bladder and tear ducts are closely related. Not to say that I am weeping and sobbing regularly, but I can bet that at least once a day my eyes will fill with tears over something. Maybe it's a commercial for heart disease portraying a mom talking about her dead child. Or hearing Raffi. Or reading a book such as "Love You Forever".

Today, the first time I cried, was with a stranger. On Sunday night my husband and I left our kids with some friends from church and we came to a work related conference for my husband. While he is downstair in different workshops, I am doing all my online Christmas and Hannukah shopping and planning out Thansgiving menus and recipes and planning for my own re-entry into teaching childbirth classes. I LOVE all this quiet time! I love having guilt free blogging time. Even the interruption of the housekeeping staff this morning was pleasurable because I'd already had so much uninterrupted time.

I met Valeria, the maid. She looks slightly older than me and spoke broken english and I casually asked her where she was from out of polite interest. She told me she was from Czechoslavakia. I shared that my inlaws were originally from Czechoslavakia and she lit up like a little candle. Her face brightened and her smile grew huge as she started talking about her family... and then she cried. Big tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her thin cheeks even as she smiled and talked about her daughter and son. I cried too. I ached for her to be here, so far away from them, in this land where she must live to earn money to send back home where there are no jobs. She is putting her children through college so that they can come to America to live good lives too. Last month she was Housekeeper of the Month. She is a high level administrative assistant in Czech - but there was no work at all. She had a garden with fruit and vegetables. Now she has her Employee of the Month plaque. She was worth my tears.

The next time I cried was when I called the front desk about the baby crying in the room next to ours. I heard that baby off and on all night Sunday night, off and on yesterday and last night. And then today it was rather nonstop. Wailing and sobbing...fading to whimpers... and then more wailing and sobbing. The kind where they hiccup and sniffle and their voice sounds hoarse and raspy. I began to wonder if that baby was all alone in the room. I got nervous. I crept out to the hallway to listen at the door to see if I could hear an adult trying to soothe the baby, or hear the TV, or any other noise. I didn't hear anything. I felt more and more anxious thinking of a baby being abandoned in a room. So I called the front desk. I didn't mind the baby crying, I have kids and I know what it's like to be stuck in a hotel with a cranky child, but I was worried. When I was explaining this to the hotel manager whom I'd been transferred to, I started crying. The very nice manager assured me she'd check into it, that she was a mommy too and she'd let me know. Sure enough, she called back moments later to tell me that the baby was with it's mommy but that baby was sick. I cried again with relief, not that the baby was sick, but that the baby was not alone and scared. Then I felt like crying for the poor momma stuck in a hotel room with a sick baby. Oh, I've been there!

It's not even dinnertime and I've cried again already. I called home to check in with my Chick and I was asking how things were going and if our friends were taking good care of the little ones. She told me that they were - but that she herself had made sure the kids had their lunches together, homework done, and had made muffins for breakfast today. My Chick...my responsible, caring, trustworthy Chick. Our friends had said, "you could do all this by yourself!" and I told Chick, "yes, but I didn't mean for you too! Thats' why I asked them to come and stay... go, be a kid!" She laughed and said she would. I cried with pride at my girl. The one who makes me worry and fret beyond belief sometimes. I think I can stop worrying so much.

My brother was talking recently about how easy he cries. He tells me he got this from our mother. He thinks he is the only one that cries, that has a soft heart, that feels emotions so strongly. He kinda thinks I am rather cold. Funny. The thing is, I don't necessarily like to cry in front of other people, so I guess yeah, by all appearances, I am not a big softie. But once I trust you and feel comfortable with you? You better keep extra Kleenex on hand. I cry in church, in carpool, in the bookstore. I cry with my friend K when she talk about her son with autism or her sister with cancer, I cry with my Chick over Grays Anatomy (!) and when I think about my Bear and how hard things are for her. I cry over blogs and books and music and over my self. I cry because I'm happy, or angry, or sad, or worried, or proud, or amazed or hurt. I cry over PSA's and the news and Oprah and even the Discovery Channel. I cry when my kids are in some musical show at school, or when they say the Pledge of Allegiance or sing America The Beautiful. I cry when someone else cries.

I am made of tears I think. Momma's Tears.