I’m not sure what’s going on with me lately but I keep finding myself overcome with emotion—sometimes over the silliest things. I see something on TV or even hear a song on the radio that unleashes feelings so quickly it’s as though I’ve been holding the tears back all day. It starts with a lump in my throat and watery eyes, but then embarrassment kicks in and I try to fight off a full-blown crying jag.

I am not depressed or sad, mind you, just a big ol’ sap.

I regularly cry at the most obviously manipulative commercials. I can’t remember the last time I got through the “Today Show” or “Oprah” without stifling a sniffle. If it’s not kids overcoming challenges, then it’s soldiers returning home from war, or deaths from natural disasters or violence that do me in every time.

My sob story became most apparent last weekend as I sat in the audience of the Marshall- Jefferson Variety Show at the South Orange Middle School. The theme of the production was “Free to Be You and Me”—that sweet, hippie 1970s show featuring inspiring songs about growing up.  

They had me at “Free.”

As the banjo picking began, the lights went up and a group of five to seven year olds in matching colorful t-shirts began singing and swaying to the charming lyrics.  Perhaps it was their goofy grins or the carefully practiced choreography that got me, but those tenacious tears started to creep down my cheeks. I had sat through rehearsals because my seven year old, Aden, was an emcee in the show so I knew this was a strong possibility. I decided to go with it instead of biting my lip to defy the cry.

I sat in the — thankfully — dark auditorium intermittently swiping my face and wondering if people around me thought I was suffering through a trauma of some kind. 

Those darling little hams, so proud and eager to show their stuff after weeks of practice just turned me to mush. I’m happy to report I did not sob through the whole thing. I was able to hold it together for all of the comedy bits and most of the dance numbers. But some of those songs really yanked at my heartstrings, leaving me weeping like a jilted teenager.

It didn’t help to look at the program during intermission. The back pages were filled with beaming family messages to performers.  “We’re so proud!” and “You’re our star!” ads from teachers, parents, grandparents, siblings and several beloved dogs got me all choked up again. By the time all 400-plus kids rushed the stage in their costumes to sing the “Free to Be You and Me” finale—complete with hand motions—it was waterworks city.

Just last week I took the kids to see “Toy Story 3” as part of a Marshall fundraiser at SOPAC and was bawling through the last third of the movie. When Andy has to give the toys away to the little girl at the end?! You’d have to be a stone to get through that scene without swallowing a sob or two.

Is something wrong with me? I was never this way as a kid. I had many sensitive friends who cried about everything. I was so unemotional; my pals jokingly dubbed me “Hard-hearted Hannah” from the old song. I was always the strong one who held it together. When I did cry, it was brief and only in private.

I think it was lack of life experience that made me so stoic. But something changed when I had children. Perhaps it was the surge of hormones coupled with intense love for these little people we created.

Seeing them step out of their comfort zone to accomplish goals, show courage and be their own person is amazing. It’s not easy to get up on stage in front of hundreds of adults and peers. My younger self never could have done it.  Watching all these mini entertainers—and my ow—overcome nerves and strut their stuff was affecting, to say the least.

My boys and husband just roll their eyes at me. There goes mommy … getting dewy-eyed again. It’s ironic that that’s how they see me because for so long, it’s not how I saw myself. But kids change you in so many ways and hopefully make you strive to be your truest self.

Watching my kids evolve has made me a more emotional person. Maybe I’m setting a good example for my three sons that—as the song says—it’s all right to cry.