Moms Don't Cry Because They're Weak

by Samantha Wassel
Originally Published: 
A crying mom with brown hair holding hands on her head, with a wedding ring on her left hand finger

Today, Mama cried.

She cried because you woke up an hour early, and she really needed to sleep in.

She cried because she wanted to squeeze in a workout before breakfast, but you wouldn’t stop screaming for pancakes.

She cried because the coffee filter got folded in the machine, and there were grounds in her coffee.

She cried because she knocked over her mug as she reached over to make a new pot, and there was coffee on the ground.

She cried because she needs a refill on her inhaler, but every time she calls the doctor’s office, she gets a damn busy signal.

She cried because there’s cat hair in the refrigerator. The fucking refrigerator.

She cried because she ran an entire load of laundry before realizing she forgot to add the detergent.

She cried because she couldn’t find any more hangers when the clothes came out of the dryer.

She cried because the idiot who lived here before her didn’t forward all his mail, and she keeps getting packages of medical equipment that she doesn’t have time to take back to the post office.

She cried because allergies suck, and her ears are plugged.

She cried because she wants to be over her body image issues, but she just feels so fat today.


She cried because she sucks at technology, and her iPod is stuck on repeat.

She cried because Dawson’s Creek is no longer streaming on Netflix, and because she wouldn’t have the time to watch it even if it was.

She cried because she’s tired. She’s just so fucking tired.

She cried because her head hurt from thinking, her throat hurt from yelling, and her heart hurt from taking her frustration out on you – the two people she loves most in this world.

She cried because there was a hair trapped somewhere in her bra band, tickling her back, and she couldn’t fucking reach it.

She cried because the store was out of vanilla almond milk, and original just isn’t the same.

She cried because she sprayed her salad with SPF 50 instead of olive oil.

She cried because there was a piece of apple skin stuck in her teeth, and she couldn’t figure out where Daddy put the floss.

She cried because she just wanted to waste 30 minutes on Facebook, but the damn computer kept freezing.

She cried because she and Daddy want another baby, but her ovaries are screwed up, and sometimes life just isn’t fair.

She cried because she feels guilty for feeling that way when she’s already got two amazing kids.

She cried because she ate a huge spoonful of peanut butter – straight out of the jar – and it made her feel like Aunt Marge in Harry Potter when Dobby blew her up like a blimp.

She cried because Grandma lives exactly 1,174 miles away, and she just really needed a hug from her mom today.

She cried because the “beep” of the microwave is just so fucking loud.

She cried because she yelled at you to “shut up,” and it made you cry, and she felt like a horrible mother.

She cried because she loves you – she loves you SO MUCH – but sometimes she wishes she could just forget that she’s a mom for an hour and relive the freedom of being responsible for no one but herself.

She cried because hormones.

She cried because she already picked all the almonds and cashews out of the mixed nuts, and the only thing left in the canister was a bunch of fucking peanuts.

She cried because she put her heart and soul into a piece of writing, and no one wants to publish it.

She cried because life is overwhelming, and she is overtired, and she just wants today to be over.

She cried because she could feel the tears pressing against the insides of her eyelids, demanding to be shed, and she hates feeling weak.

She cried because life was pressing down on her, and her mind, heart, and soul felt like they were being compressed by the weight of it. She cried because her body needed a way to relieve the pressure.

She cried because it was the only thing left to do (besides the folding of laundry, the washing of dishes, and the making of lunches).

So she did. She sat on the bathroom floor, while you screamed for the playground and popsicles, and allowed the tears to flow freely, washing away her guilt, her stress, and all the ugliness of the day.

Yes, today Mama cried. But not because she’s weak.

She cried because she is strong, and because she knows she has to be: strong for herself, strong for her family, strong for you.

And strong enough to know that sometimes – sometimes – she needs to break in order to put herself back together.

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