The windshield wipers of my brain

Funny how a good cry can seem to clear my head. I'm glue. I have told you poor folks about that before. I'm the glue that holds my family of origin together. I have been for as long as I can remember. I feel that way, to a certain extent, about my Army of Mom family, too.

With that role, how can I break down and cry around others? I can't. I have to keep on smiling, keep on encouraging while assuring to everyone that things will turn out for the best.

Then, when I'm alone, the tears come to visit me. I fight them. The combat is pretty remarkable. No, I will not show weakness and cry. Nope, nope, nope. Ok, maybe a little. That's when my little Dutch boy pulls his finger from the dike (get your mind out of the gutter) and the waters start to flow.

This afternoon a local movie theater was running half-price matinee shows. So, Army of Dad took the boys to a movie. Little Bit is up in her room taking a nap and I'm left to my own devices. That includes writing a story due last Thursday and having a good cry.

What is really weird is how much clearer my head feels, as if a weight has been lifted from atop my head. Maybe I'll feel better now.