I cry all the damn time

I was reading an article recently about toxic masculinity, and I was thinking about how it does us, as men, no good to pretend like we don’t cry, and probably quite a bit of harm. As I have already cried multiple times this morning for various reasons, I would like to go publically, on the record, and say I cry all the damn time.

I just cried watching a video of Drew Brees throwing his 540th touchdown pass.

Over the weekend I cried when the graduating seniors danced their final Nutcracker performance, and I don’t even have a graduating senior.

I cried the first TWO times I saw Hamilton.

I cry in movies when I see daughters achieving their dreams.

I cry when I think about things that will be hard on the kids when they get older.

I cry when I see school shootings on the news.

I literally got a tear when I typed that previous line, because holy crap.

This morning I got choked up during the Lobby sing when we were singing Jingle Bells and pretended like I was coughing and I don’t even know why, other than the fact that childhood is fleeting?

ALL.

THE DAMN.

TIME.

And I think, for my sons’ sake, it’s time to stop pretending like I don’t, or trying to cover it up when it happens like it’s something to be ashamed of.

Evie Quotes

Evie, checking her imaginary watch, “It’s quarter past half.”

“Are you the smartest little girl in the world?”
“Yes I are!”

“Mooommmmy! I want more candy! More and more and more and more!!!!”
“Jeeze, she’s addicted after just one piece!”

It was a little Twix, for the record.

Sara: “Are you disturbed at how much our daughter enjoys seeing people cry?”

Well, I better explain that one.

Evie loves to see people cry. Any book that has a picture of someone crying, is an instant favorite. You can not look at that picture without Evie pointing out the tears. She asks to read books where people are crying and will talk about books with people crying long after they’re returned to the library. Even if there is just a smudge on the page by someone’s eye, she’ll point it out. “She’s crying? Daddy, she’s crying?” I have actually seen her applaud at the prospect of reading a book about crying.

In other words, the plans to turn her into an evil genius proceed apace.