I remember my Dad telling me a story that in the old days there were people who were professional mourners. It was just some light conversation we had while standing at my mom’s casket. But apparently there were people you could hire to mourn at a wake or funeral. I could have made a career of this.
So maybe that’s where my kids get it. My kids are professional criers. They’re really, really good at it. Except it doesn’t pay well. And it actually sucks the life right out of me. Not that there’s really any left.
This is my third installment of the reasons my kids cry. Each time I write about this topic I always think, well this will be the last time I’ll be able to write an entire post about that. Wrong. Like I said, these kids are professionals. They give me new material every day.
And now I find myself getting excited when I hear someone crying. I run to them and say, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? All the while I have my phone in hand ready to document the reason for future reference.
“Your cartwheels are making me color outside of the lines and my teacher says I have to color in the lines.”
This one gets the award for most creative reason someone has ever cried. Cartwheels are distracting. No doubt about it. But really not tear-worthy. Crayons were thrown. Mean things were said. Tears were falling. I would have loved to have been there when she was explaining to her teacher why she colored out of the lines.
“He didn’t want his pizza heated in the microwave.”
What kind of a monster am I? Reheating pizza in the microwave. What the hell was I thinking? I was confused though. How do you want me to heat it? I’m not turning the oven on for a meal I didn’t even cook in there in the first place. Thankfully, he was crying because he didn’t want it heated at all. He just wanted to eat cold pizza. For breakfast.
“I don’t want my waffles buttered.”
I can’t keep track of who likes what condiments. Because it changes daily. But who in God’s name doesn’t like butter on their waffles? And with the amount of syrup she put on said waffles I’m not sure how she could even tell there was butter on them. Or waffles at all for that matter. So I had to cook her two more waffles. From scratch. All the way from the freezer to the toaster. As she drank syrup right from the bottle. Like she’s part elf.
“I don’t want to put my pants on by myself.”
I mean, who does? But sometimes we have to do things we don’t really want to do. This one was a real life lesson. No one really ever wants to put on pants. But we all have to. One leg at a time. Everyday. No matter how much you cry. Now go sit over there by your sister whose head we’re going to have to shave because of all the syrup she poured onto it while I was busy not buttering her waffles.
“‘I can’t put my sock on. It won’t let me.”
Wait. What won’t let you? The sock won’t let you or your foot won’t let you? I’m going to need to know this information before I can help rectify it. But she was crying so hard she couldn’t tell me. For the love of God, put on your damn sock so we can get the hell out that door. Now.
“‘He told me where the toothpaste was and I didn’t want him to tell me where the toothpaste was.”‘
The ironic thing about this one is, whenever I ask her where something is, she doesn’t want to look. Or she looks and can’t find it. Even though it’s there. Yet her brother tells her where the toothpaste is and she loses it. Where in God’s name did she think the toothpaste was? We generally only keep it in one place. The freaking bathroom. By the toothbrushes. Our bathroom is about the size of a telephone booth (not that my kids know what that is), so I’m not quite understanding this.
And this is my favorite one this time around. This kid never disappoints.
“‘Because she lost her voice.”‘
She’s screaming and crying and carrying on that she lost her voice. Yet, I can hear her. The deaf can hear her. She is waking the dead with her cries. She’s having a full on meltdown yelling at the top of her lungs. Then all is quiet. I look in the rear view mirror and she’s passed out cold. Just like that. Hopefully her dreams come true and she finds her voice again.