Parenthood makes me… cry.

(Part 2/5 in a series on Parenthood.  If you missed part 1 you can read about why Parenthood makes me… laugh HERE.)

Over the past almost 2 years, I have cried many, many times.  I blame it on a mix of hormones, exhaustion, and a new well of emotion I think you tap into when you become a Mom; but the tears come easy for many reasons these days.

I’ve cried while driving my car on the freeway with the windows down because I can’t take one. more. minute. of that inconsolably screaming baby in the back seat.  So if you’re gonna scream, so am I.

I’ve cried when it’s the second, ok, third day in a row I haven’t been able to find the time to take a shower and put on an actual outfit.

I’ve cried when Kaden hugs my neck, gives me a “tiss,” and tells me he “wuvs” me of his own accord.

I’ve cried… no, this one was a yell, more than a cry… when Molly had been screaming on the couch forEVER and Kaden was whining through his lunch and started screaming b/c he bit his tongue and all I could do in that moment was stand between the living room and kitchen and yell at the ceiling.  At nothing.  At everything.  At my own lack of patience and presence of mind. And then I cried, really cried, out to God begging for forgiveness for the way I just yelled at my children and pleading with Him for the strength and wisdom to do better by them.

I’ve cried about the blessing it is that Kaden and Molly get to grow up near all four of their grandparents.  I grew up seeing my grandparents for a week or so in the summer and every once in a while for Christmas or Thanksgiving.  So when I turn the corner onto the street my parents neighborhood is on and Kaden yells out “Dampa’s house!!!!!” because he knows he’s almost there and can watch “gawf” with Dampa, I can’t help but shed a tear of gratitude and joy that Nama and Dampa and Nana and Pops are so close by and wonderful.

I’ve cried watching the way Trey loves our kids.  Sometimes all it takes is a shared look after one of them does something funny, sweet, ornery, etc. and the tenderness I can see in his eyes towards his children is enough to make any girl melt into a puddle of tears.  “No, Trey.  I am not crying.  There is something in my eye. Do you know how much dust is in this house!?”  (And p.s…. tenderness can be very manly.)

I’ve cried at the look shared between a little boy and his baby sister as he holds her (sort of…) on the couch one of 17 times in a given day.  Because I can’t resist “mama, a hold moll a sec??”

See above

I’ve cried when allowing myself to worry about what could happen to one of them.  Injuries.  Illness. Freak Accidents.  Death.  The thought of losing one of my kids… just the thought of living the rest of my life without one of them makes me weep.

I’ve cried when nap time is cut incredibly short because of construction across the street, or a bad dream, or a snotty nose… and the blissful quiet of the afternoon is a big fat goner.

I’ve cried time and again at the thought that the love I feel towards Kaden and Molly, the “I’d do anything, including die for you” kind of love, is NOTHING compared to how much the God of the Universe loves me and wants me to know and love Him back.

I’ve cried listening to Kaden muddle through the words of “Jesus Loves Me” because what he doesn’t know yet is that Jesus really does love him.  So much so that He did die for him.  And I will do everything in my power to ensure that one day he and Molly will sing “Jesus Loves Me” and believe every word to the very core of their beings.

I mean... come on!