Confession: I am a recovering crier. I used to shed tears pretty much over anything, from someone hurting my feelings, to forgetting the pasta boiling on the stove and it turning to mush, someone hurting my feelings, a Jim Cogdill Dodge/Chrysler/Jeep/Ram commercial, looking at wedding photos of my grandfather sitting in the front row (he passed away four months after we married), an empty mailbox, and someone hurting my feelings. Basically, a tad sensitive. Which, if YOU had called me a tad sensitive, I would have cried.
However, motherhood, which normally turns otherwise even tempered women into total basket cases every time they spot a monogrammed onesie or a stray kitten on their porch, cast the exact opposite spell on me: I became a robot. The tears were gone, and the stress set in. Instead of weeping over their first steps, I stressed that they were walking too late for their age. I micromanaged every moment of the first few years of motherhood, overwhelmed with “doing it right” or “being enough” or…..
(Want to read the rest of this article? I am over at the Knoxville Moms Blog today. To finish this story, click (here) and be sure to share it with your friends on social media!)