And I hate the first part of May. I used to love it. It was strawberry season and picnic season. The weather was warm but not hot. Summer was fast approaching with the promise of watermelon and swimming every day. Birthday parties, end of the year parties, and all sorts of events happened in May. But I’m sensitive and emotional. And then I had kids.
Maybe it’s more like I’m highly emotional. It manifested itself in third grade as I tried to swallow my sobs, tears streaming down my face as I endured watching the end of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. “Fae is crying.” “Fae is crying.” The whisper went through the two classes, and everyone turned from the movie to see that I was crying. That was just one more thing to add to the list of things to tease me about.
It got worse as I got older. I became a reader. I can’t tell you how many times my dad walked in to see me crying over a book. He would awkwardly stand and try to ease my pain. “Fae, it’s just a book. It’s not real. No one died.” Failing to comfort me, he did what the clan always does, he made jokes until I laughed through my tears. Thanks, Dad. You truly were a boon during those chaotic, emotionally charged years of puberty.
Then there were the college years of going to the movies with the film students. The boy film students. Then I would hide my tears as best as I could. Sometimes it would work. Well, until the lights came up and my eyes were bright teal shaded with red. “Gee, Fae, were you crying?” A “no” sounded childish, defiant, and a lie. Even though that awkwardness held above us, the boys would oddly become protective of me. And being childish and defiant, I was annoyed by that.
Now the girl friends would get it. And sometimes cry with me. If one of them interrupted me over a book, the response was always, “Call me as soon as your done.” But it always seemed to be a male to witness the crumbling of my walls.
Fine. I just stopped going to movies that made me cry with guys. Which sometimes was a hit or miss. I stopped reading the ending of books around guys. Done and done.
Until I got pregnant. And May happened. Do you know what “holiday” is in May? Mother’s Day. Do you know what they show on TV during the first part of May? Mother’s Day gift and card commercials. Do you know what I have to do in May? Buy Mother’s Day cards!
Before pregnancy, before kids, none of that bothered me. I would search the cards for something to make my mom cry. Now. I cry over every card. Except the humor ones. My mother no longer receives sweet, sentimental cards from me.
Before pregnancy, before kids, I could watch those stupid, sappy, sweet commercials about Moms and kids. Now. I cry. Hallmark kills me. Sometimes all I have to do is think of a highly emotionally charged commercial and tears spring from my eyes. It’s ridiculous.
Fine. No watching sappy movies. No reading the ends of books around people. And now no TV or reading cards in May.
This is getting ridiculous.