Suburban Subversive

Bittersweet

I don’t feel comfortable having others see me cry. From childhood I’ve always gone out of my way to make sure nobody ever sees me, even if I have to choke it back. I save it for later at just about any cost, no matter how badly I’m hurt or upset. There have been times when I’ve been severely injured and I just jump right up. I joke to myself that I could have one leg dangling behind me and I’d bounce up so everyone would think I was ok. I get really embarassed when I cry, and I’m never completely sure why.

This is funny because in reality, I cry fairly easily. I get choked up with little provocation. Sentimental commercials, books, babies, you name it - it all can move me. But always, crying for me is a cause and effect - something moves me, or I get hurt, or I’m sad - and I cry.

Today my son got his first haircut. It’s a milestone, definitely, but it’s not like he’s moving out or anything. His hair had gotten incredibly long and shaggy, and it was time. We’d been putting it off for a while because we weren’t sure how he’d do with it. He’s quite the squirmy little guy.

So we’re walking into the hair place for the appointment and I start choking up. And it’s so weird, because I wasn’t thinking all the things I could think to begin crying about this event. I was just blankly walking in. These tears just come out of nowhere. Waiting for the cut - the lump in my throat emerges again. Putting my little baby into the chair wasn’t hard at all. So strange.

Afterwards, I was stunned a bit. My 13 month old now looks like a kid, not a baby. Now, no tears. Just amazement at how much he’s changed. It’s so bittersweet, this mother gig. You take the good and the bad, but so much of it just tears my heart into pieces. I cherish that, too.