I remember being in my mid-twenties and hanging out at a girlfriend’s house. There were three of us over – me, my friend Lyric, and my childhood friend Tangie. We were having a blast gabbing about men, sipping wine, and enjoying our youth.
My girlfriend Lyric mentioned how she had broken up with her long-term beau a couple of weeks prior.
“You didn’t tell me about that!” I said with hurt feelings.
“Well I thought about it,” she paused and turned to Tangie for support “but I know you.”
“What does that mean?” I said incredulously while searching their faces for answers.
“Well I know you didn’t really care for him,” she explained. “I was positive that you’d say ‘good riddance’ and move on to the next thing. I needed a pat on the back and someone to cry with. That’s just not you.”
I looked at Tangie who could only nod in agreement sheepishly.
I had officially become the “cold-hearted” “matter-of-fact” one in the group. Not sure how it happened, but deep down I was sort of proud of these attributes. I was young, single, hard-working… That’s how it should be right?
Fast forward six years, a husband, and one set of twins later. I am now a bonafide softy. Watching an especially good episode of Law and Order, I cried when the mom was reunited with her missing, hearing impaired daughter. TLC’s A Baby Story? Seeing the first time moms start the waterworks every time. And let’s not even start on Extreme Makeover Home Edition. ‘Tissues please!’
The wimpiness doesn’t stop at television. Thoughts of my babies going to kindergarten, riding a bike for the first time, or having their first sleepover get me misty.
My daughter attempting to help me put the grocery bags into the trunk from her tiny seat in the front of the cart… CUTENESS! *tear
First steps… new dance moves… unprovoked hugs and kisses…
I melt, get all gooey, and even a little for klempt EVERY. SINGLE. TIME! I make myself sick!
This no-nonsense, tough as nails, cosmopolitan beauty (okay I’m being generous) has officially turned into a mushy, overly nostalgic…. MOMMY.
My cure for apathy was having snotty-nosed, round-faced, adorably sweet twins.
It’s funny how time, and some huge life changes can change your outlook and your whole perception of life.
Am I proud of being a softy? Not exactly, but I’m beginning to accept it. I suppose it means that there’s actually a warm womanly heart beating inside this tough little chest. 😉