Last Saturday Sammy was involved in the “Super Circus” with his gymnastics class. It was the cutest little thing ever, an end-of-season recital of sorts with every kid in the program participating. And after the children showed off their talents they received a medal for their achievements. Sammy was originally in the 3-to-4-year-old tumbling class, but he had been acting a little crazy and out-of-control lately. With the “Super Circus” coming up I freaked out and had visions of him running amok – and trust me, Sammy is completely capable of running amok. I don’t want my little boy making a spectacle of himself in a negative way, at least not more than he usually does. I flipped out and asked his teacher what she thought we should do with our little wild child. She suggested that instead of pulling him out of the “Super Circus” all together that we simply switch classes and do the circus with the Mommy & Me class. Alright, that sounded like a plan. But as I watched the 3-to-4-year-olds perform in the circus I realized, sadly, that Sammy probably would have been just fine. Oh well.

On the way to the “Super Circus” Sammy had fallen asleep in the car. That’s a pretty normal occurrence in Sammyland, falling asleep at exactly the wrong time. He was having a hard time waking up, and I thought that by the time he was supposed to go up and do his act, he’d be cranky and wouldn’t want to. But my little fella is a shining star and loves nothing more than to be the center of attention, so he was fully awake before it was showtime. Scott took Sammy up with the rest of the Mommy & Me class, and I was holding the camera and tried to capture every moment!

Sammy was awesome – he was the most talented kid in his class. That was probably due to the fact that he’s older than everyone else in the class, some of whom can hardly even walk unaided. Plus he was in the 3-to-4-year-old class for over seven months, so he’s a pro. A pro that needs to have someone holding his hand so he doesn’t run up into the stands and out the back door, but still. He got up in front of everyone and showed off what he knew – I was the proudest mama ever! Then after his little act, he stood upon the podium and proudly exclaimed into the microphone, “MY NAME IS SAMMY!” They then put the medal around his little neck and he hopped down. I was fighting pretty hard to hold back the mommy tears through the entire show, but when he got up there and said his name – I just about lost it! He was so proud of his medal, and when he got off stage he came running out to me full of pride. I gave him a hug and it took all my willpower plus to not start crying like a baby.

I know that showing emotion is a normal human thing to do, but it’s not me. I never wear my heart on my sleeve and it freaks me out to think that I might become one of those mothers that cry at every little event their child does. I wrote my brother – who by far understands me more than anyone else, especially when talking about emotional things. He wrote back a diagnosis to my problem. I was thinking it might be a hormonal disorder due to the pregnancy, but he was able to clear the whole thing up for me. I have to warn you, before posting his letter, that you may need to go potty as the laughter might cause the side effect of peeing your pants. I was lucky enough as to have gone potty right before I read it – otherwise there probably would have been an accident. This diagnosis was so on target, coming from a male, I couldn’t believe how much of a grasp on motherhood my brother has.

The Diagnosis:

I have reviewed the phenomenon of your outward physical display of emotion that caused you copious amounts of discomposure. The overwhelming desire to facilitate use of tear ducts to convey pridefulness has been analyzed in an exact scientific manner, and your unexplainable, non-sequitur behavior can only be deducted and equated to the fact that you have experienced a metamorphosis. Indeed, you are a victim of the transmutation known as Matriarchal Derangement, better known as “mommy madness.” This affliction has no known cure, and in some severe cases, victims of MD disorder have been known to wear polka dot dresses, bake cookies, attend PTA meetings, smile, play bridge with friends, get their hair done, drive a minivan or SUV, and have some kind of connection to the Girl or Boy Scouts of America, by becoming what is known as a “den mother”.

Symptoms include PDA, or public display of affection, show pictures of offspring, weeping at achievements of offspring (as in your case), increased baking and cooking skill, desire to wear blush, using the word “cute”, loss of natural selfish tendencies, notable increase in stains, ability to complete loads of laundry without incident, increased use of “baby talk”, knowledge of live events based on characters from children’s programs, desire to set play-dates, desire to wipe faces and pick noses of children, and ability to listen to temper tantrums without killing.

I am very sorry to provide this diagnosis for you, as there is no treatment and no cure, only the inert need to “have another.” At this point you may want to change your name to Donna Reed, June Cleaver, or some other nice 50′s iconic television mom name. Good luck!

Thanks to my brother and all his wisdom I know now I am doomed to be one of those parents that cry at all their children’s events. I might have to change my name and move out of the country so no one who knows me will wonder who just died as my child gets a medal. People won’t understand when I break into tears at the soccer game when my kid makes the winning goal, but not at Aunt Gertrude’s funeral. They won’t get it when I am bawling over kindergarten graduation but could seem to care less when Grandpa George has to be put down (so to speak). I guess it doesn’t matter, no one gets me now so what do I care if they understand my Matriarchal Derangement (MD)? I am a proud mother and I love my little fella more than anything in the world – so watch out, ’cause this emotional mama’s here to stay!

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