When I wake up in the morning, I don’t say, “Jeez, I really hope I cry today.”  Crying as a mom, for me, is usually unexpected. Especially with all our wild hormones splashin’ around in our lady guts. I’m not a crier. In fact, I’m an ugly crier, so when I feel the waterworks comin’ on, I’m all, “oh great, this is gonna be about as pretty as a shitty diaper with glitter on it. (Feel free to tweet that.)

Here’s 3 things I cried about today.

My son woke at 4 a.m, and I had no choice but to hang out on the couch with him. He was not falling back to sleep. Great. So, I stumbled upon the movie Saving Mr. Banks.

If you’re not aware, Saving Mr. Banks deals with Walt Disney’s struggles with P.L. Travers, author of Mary Poppins, as he tries to get her to sign over the rights to the story so he can produce it as a live action film. The film also dives into Travers’s past and it’s effect on her life.

I wept like a baby for 89% of the movie. WTF is wrong with me? Yes, the story was good. Tom Hanks and

Emma Thompson are fantastic, but COME ON! Crying?And then Paul Giamotti’s character, and his

handicapped daughter, Jane

…

I had no chance of getting out of this movie alive. This is bullshit.

After Cry #1, my son was finally looking sleepy and ready for a nap. I laid him down to sleep and about an hour later, I had to go in and wake him up as we had to leave to scoop up my daughter from school. I snuck in and noticed he was sound asleep. I gently placed my right hand, palm down over his chest. His eyes softly open and close as he drifts back into a deep sleep. I stood there for a few moments feeling his heartbeat, and noticing the amazing rhythm as it pounds into my palm. I realize that my eyes were welling up. This is what being a mom is all about. There’s no way that would happen if this weren’t my kid. I’m not ballin’ over some random kid’s heartbeat. This is real deal, raw mommy tears. Ughhhhhhhhh. Bleeping Motherhood.

It’s dinnertime, and I was frying up some onions to start off the soup I was preparing. I blow at cutting onions. And I hate doing it, because, well, it makes me cry. I have to stop every 20 seconds or so, step away from the cutting board, and cry. Do you know how long it takes me to cut one onion? All of this onion crying bullshit, I’ll never get dinner done. I freaking don’t even like onions!

Alas, I put myself through this torture on an occasional basis. I guess it’s a form of self loathing.

Where am I going with all this? Oh, right. So anyway, I cry on occasion. Although I don’t always

want to cry, they are healthy cries and I give myself an A+ for letting it out

—

even if I look like a monkey’s armpit while doing it.

What animal armpit do you look like when you are letting out a good cry? Tell us now at

sothishappened@bleepingmotherhood.com