It can happen without warning. That’s why it’s a surprise. Duh.
Preface: I am an easy crier. I cry at everything. Always have. Movies, TV shows, a cute puppy, Hallmark commercials, when the lights go up and a theater performance or dance recital starts, whatever. I will never watch the movie Up again because I spent the first 15 minutes of it sobbing. I don’t care how good the rest of the movie was. NEVER. AGAIN. I have seen Shawshank Redemption countless times and even though I know a certain line by heart and I know it’s coming, I tear up. The end of Gran Torino made me cry for a week. YES, A WEEK. I woke up thinking about it more than once and started crying all over again. Won’t watch that one again either.
My secret is out. I cry at everything. BUT DON’T LET THAT FOOL YOU. It does not change my snarky streak. I am hardly a sap or a pushover. I just have overactive tear ducts.
I figured pregnancy would wind up being nine months of waterworks. Especially since there is also a deployment involved. And yet, I’ve done okay. A few bouts here and there over some worthwhile issues, but overall, not bad.
But there have been two significant moments of complete and utter unwarranted meltdowns. I will share one with you now, the other will make more sense after I finally publish a post that has been sitting in my draft pile since (no joke) November.
Without further ado:
Meltdown #1 – Thanks a lot, Dave Matthews
Preface (yes, another one) : I used to loathe DMB. LOATHE. In college when everyone swooned over Dave Matthews I was appalled by his popularity. I hated his music and could not understand why people were so obsessed. But at some point about six years ago, I finally got it. And Big A still won’t let me live it down. I don’t totally love it, he is not my favorite musician ever, but I can enjoy the music, appreciate the lyrics and the talents of the group members and I even learned how to play one of the songs on guitar.
I am also only watching American Idol because at some point, he is bound to jump out onstage and say “lololololol you’re voting for my kid, America!” Because Phillip Phillips is clearly a Dave Matthews lovechild and the secret is being withheld from the public until the show needs a ratings boost. If not, then you have to wonder if Dave Matthews ever watches the show and then mentally sifts through all the women he slept with in Georgia that may have spawned this kid. Because CLEARLY it has to be his offspring. The looks, the faces, the movement, the voice…it’s a DM clone if I ever $#^@! saw/heard one.
On a recent bright, sunny Friday I decided to take a break from my typical gangsta playlist and opted for some DMB. I just set the thing to shuffle and went to town. About six minutes from home and I was attacked. A song I had heard a hundred times sent me into the UGLY CRY in my car.
This started it:
Oh, and when the kids are old enough
We’re gonna teach them to fly
Followed immediately with the final non-poignant dagger:
You and me together, we can do anything, baby
And the remaining three minutes of the song became a total disaster. In my foggy emotion filled head I was all, oh my god, we CAN do anything. We CAN teach the kid to fly. We are awesomesauce mother@$%^#$^s and everything in life is going to be INCREDIBLE. And my heart filled with love and pride even though I know none of that shit was remotely true. I KNEW IT WASN’T TRUE, BUT DANG NABBIT I WANTED TO BELIEVE IN THAT MOMENT. The lyrics aren’t even all that deep. IT DIDN’T MATTER. I was in it to win it and I believed. I BELIEVED.
And I mean I was truly a serious sobbing mess, in every sense. My cardigan sleeves were soaked with tears and thank you for giant sunglasses because all of my neighbors were outside when I pulled into the driveway.
At some point in the middle of the song I started laughing at the ridiculousness of myself but then the kids line repeated and I lost my shiznit again. THIS WAS AN UNFAIR SURPRISE ATTACK. I was just trying to enjoy my 15-minute sunny happy Friday commute. WHY YOU GOTTA HATE, DMB?!
The Ugly Cry. It can happen anytime, anywhere. WATCH YOUR BACK. And bring Kleenex.