You see, this is the problem with all these extra hormones coursing through my veins: I cry at the slightest provocation.
Last night we rented the new remake of “The Karate Kid.” I was a blubbering mess by the end. While all four kids were jumping off of chairs and couches, trying to convince their father to sign them up for kung fu lessons, I was blowing my nose into my sleeves thinking how proud that mama must’ve been.
Yesterday, I sobbed through the first fifteen minutes of Disney’s “Tarzan.” Then again when the noble savage defeated the leopard that killed his parents. I didn’t get misty. I didn’t tear up. I cried racking sobs. Is it even possible for Disney to make a movie without killing off a parent? No really, can you think of a single DVD in their precious little “vault” where the main character comes from an intact two parent family? So that’s it, no more Disney flicks for me until I’m done nursing.
Commercials, country music, children singing…it all triggers the waterworks within seconds. I’m sure strangers would conclude by my pink puffy eyes that I’m constantly running away from some lover’s quarrel. But let me assure you it was only the Allstate commercial.
So if anyone has any suggestions for some light reading, or perhaps a happy romantic comedy, I’m all tears.