That Time I Weeped Because Of All The Things

A few years or days ago, I don’t really know how to keep track of time anymore, we were approximately three or 17 weeks into the stay at home thing we have all been doing. I don’t remember why were all in the same room, or what we were doing, but something snapped inside me and I started bawling. Hard. Without reserve and in front of all four of my children.

They looked at me with wild eyes and back and forth at each other.

“Mom, are you okay?” Sunny asked me quietly, and with what I recognize now as bravery.

Because this sudden broken dam of tears did not have a warning or any kind of advance notice. Spencer was sitting next to me in my big chair, and did one of his patented “I want to cuddle you with my elbow” moves and ended up popping me right in the chin. It hurt a little bit, and it’s not the first time it has happened, but for some reason, this little act was also the reason I just let the water works flow and flow and flow. (In retrospect, I’m not surprised it was a little bloop from Spence that released the dam. He is the child who is needing school the most right now and the one I have the most fear about what he is not getting by staying at home.)

I can see how this sudden onslaught of tears, that weren’t just tears of pain, but a gutteral weeping might have been a little unsettling for my kids, watching their mom fall apart in a heap in front of them.

I’m sure the fear and anxiety and stress and worry and uncertainty I had been carrying around for three or eleventy weeks burst inside of me.

A snapshot of what school looks like sometimes around here. Wherever you can find a quiet spot.

Luckily for me, I have the sweetest and most empathetic kids ever. Because maybe they were scared that their mom was losing her mind. (I mean, I WAS! Let’s be clear.) But despite any fear they might have felt, they all took turns putting their arms around me and one of them took Spencer out of the room and I just kept crying.

After I let the river drain out of me, I went downstairs to look for my band of little people and figure out if I had done any serious damage for the day. Right before I gathered everyone together, I decided I wasn’t going to apologize for crying. It felt important to not be ashamed or downplay my emotions. Instead, I thanked them all for their love and concern and tried to explain the best I could that I had a big volcano of emotions explode out of me and I appreciated the way they helped me feel better with the hugs and playing with Spencer.

We talked about how this business of staying home and not knowing how long it was going to be and what life might look like in the future was new for all of us. Up until this point, I had ALWAYS had 30 years experience over them. But this? We were all going through this same first together and we were all figuring it out together.

We talked about the importance of feeling whatever you needed to feel and ask for help when you need it. I gushed over how grateful I was that they hugged me and gave me space and understood that sometimes even moms just need to cry and cry and cry. (I was actually thinking, ESPECIALLY moms just need to cry and cry and cry.)

Since then, all of us have taken turns falling apart somehow, and because I set such a stellar example of weeping openly with animal like pain and sorrow over getting popped in the chin, my kids now know that unexpected and unexplained emotions are just fine for this unexpected and unexplained phenomenon that has been COVID-19. We try to give space and grace to each other as needed and bake. Homemade cookies and brownies are like magic on the real hard days.

I hope you are allowing yourself the space and grace you need to fall apart every now and then and have the band of support you need to give you hugs (virtual or otherwise) and just keep moving forward. (And also brownies, I wish you brownies.)