Crying

I cry. A lot.

We read together every day, and for the past while we've been reading this book:

We sit comfortably, and I begin to read. It goes so well to begin with.

And then the inevitable happens. It goes something like this.

There's a pause in my reading. One of my daughters looks and then rolls her eyes.

My other daughter begins to sniff. She's mocking. 

The pause continues, because I can't breathe. Therefore I can't talk. And then I try to talk. It comes out in a squeak. And I say, 

'But can't you..sniff...see. It's...sniff... so sad'.

At this point, the wee guy will normally say, 'Mum...sigh... it's only a book'. C'mon - READ!'

'But....sniff....squeak...I can't. I'm....Can't you... sniff...see. The....poor... squeak...man.

Deep breath.

Right, I'm ready. I'll be okay. I'll be fine for the rest of the chapter.

I seldom am.

I wish I cried elegantly. Do you know what I mean? I see women on TV who are able to cry beautifully. They are able to carry on talking - or even singing, for crying out loud - whilst a tear gracefully falls down their cheek. They still look beautiful. Their eyes aren't red or puffy. Their faces don't contort. They still seem able to breathe.

When I cry, none of these things are true. I can't breathe.

My eyes go red and puffy. 

My face finds odd contortions, previously unknown to mankind. 

And I can't talk (one generally needs to be able to breathe to talk). 

I certainly do not cry elegantly. Or gracefully. Okay, so the fact that I don't do anything elegantly or gracefully is irrelevant here. You didn't need to bring that up, thank you.

I wish I didn't cry so much. In another post, I may give a list of ten things that make me cry. Most of them are ridiculous, though some are not.

Just for a hint......read on.

This came in the post the other day.

Our son moves on to another stage in his life.

So, no prizes for guessing what I did.

I cried.

What do you mean, 'What?!'

I told you. I cry. A lot.