Baby, You're a Firework


Let's face it. With me as their mother they are bound to turn out a little...eccentric.

I have been a little emotional the past three weeks.

When I am happy, I cry. When I am sad, I cry. When I am just sitting and breathing and thinking of nothing much at all…I cry. There is truly no good reason for all this water production.  My mom says it must just be hormones, an explanation that while probably true, makes me absolutely crazy. I want to shout,

I am more than the chemicals coursing through my veins! Hormones? Why don’t we just go back to the 1800’s and blame the whole thing on Female Hysteria! There is nothing more frustrating than blaming irrational behavior on hormones. I am a rational creature! I can control the way I act, feel and express myself. I can, I can, I can!

Yes, I would like to shout all that, but all the crying makes it really, really hard to say anything clearly, let alone at the volume required for a good loud rant.

On Saturday, the daughters and I were having a dance party to Katy Perry’s Firework, because we are girls who just like to have fun. I held Viola and we spun from one end of the room to the other, playing the song louder and then louder and then louder still. Somewhere in the middle of all the singing and dancing I stopped mid spin and bent down to steady my whirling Zuzu.

“Zuzu, look at me, sweetie. You really are a firework. Did you know that? You are a firework!”

I may or may not have had tears in my eyes. Over a Katy Perry song. From 2010.

Alright. I am going to go ahead and blame that one on hormones.