For years, I was not that woman. I was the type that would bottle up my emotions and, as strange as it may sound, I took pride in my inability to cry. Maybe it was the result of always trying to be the rock for others and, at times, the peacemaker.
But then came parenthood.
I cried the day my first child was born. I'm sure the lack of sleep and more than 24 hours of laboring played a tiny factor in the tears, but I cried and I haven't stopped since. Every time I see my child win a race or do something nice for someone else I get overwhelmed with emotions and I just have to turn my head and cry a little. Today was no different...
I started my morning off with a trip to the dermatologist where she explained to me that the new brown spots on my skin were of no concern and that I was just "getting older." Wait, WHAT?! Surely they were not age spots and surely I did not just use the words "when I was in my twenties" to a doctor who was obviously younger than me. Didn't I just turn 25 yesterday? And that's when it hit me....in just a few short weeks I will be turning 38!
When I got back to the car, I may or may not have cried a little.
Next stop? The clothing store - because nothing cures a broken heart like a little bit of bargain hunting. I grabbed a mountain of garments that looked super cute on the mannequins and headed straight for the dressing room. Nope! Too tight! Nope! Too short! Nope! Too trashy! I felt like Goldilocks searching for the perfect fit. After a half hour in the dressing room, I walked away with two pairs of shorts that will look good on me when I lose 5 pounds and a one-size-fits-all bra that will never give the girls that boost of confidence they deserve.
I hopped in the car, turned the corner and convinced myself I'd have better luck searching for kids clothes for my 8 & 9 year olds.
And that's when I got slapped in the face! Not literally, of course, but I may as well have been. I walked through the doors of this really trendy juniors store and immediately came face-to-face with a rack full of cut-off tank-tops and booty shorts. If you don't know what booty shorts are, they are the kind of shorts that barely cover your butt. The kind of shorts that are definitely not in the school dress code. The kind of shorts that would likely get me arrested if I ever attempted to wear them around town so why would I buy them for my 9 year old daughter? But I decided to give the store a try anyway. I inched my way further and further into the store and within 5 minutes I had tears in my eyes AGAIN. I stood there in a daze, probably from the trance-like music playing on the loud speaker, and wondered how my kids got to the age where I was buying clothes at this kind of store. How did I go from crying over my baby's ear aches and tumbles off the monkey bars to crying over them growing-up? But there I was, in the middle of a skater store with tears in my eyes {and a headache from the loud music}.
I understand that not every woman is the same. Some have kids - some don't. Some look like super models - most of us don't. Some cry - some don't. But in the end we are all women - a species so complex we are unlike any other. We know who we are, we embrace who we've become, and we hold on for dear life that the best is yet to come.
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