I’ve always thought of myself as a slightly heartless person. I was cynical from a ridiculously young age, though my face has always been fairly sympathetic – motherly when I hit my 30s. Despite my “cara de pureza,” as my students used to call it, I have mostly spent my life as a wry observer of life, apart and therefore somewhat unfeeling.

What has surprised me this year is the extent to which my heart has been cracked open by motherhood. Though still slightly terrified by the strength of my love for Amelia, I’m finally starting to take it a little more in stride… what’s ridiculous is how tender-hearted I’ve become! I can barely stand to hear about sick babies, and change the channel from NPR when they talk about children dying or families being torn apart. News stories that didn’t make me blink a year ago now send me into miserable imaginings of how horrible it would be to have my grown daughter stoned to death in Iran, or how I would feel if my child died when her school collapsed in an earthquake. Isn’t that hideously morbid? Why even go there, right?

I suppose that for me 2008 was a year in which I started learning the power of kindness and positivity. I took some risks, decided to try being optimistic (though I spent much of my time ranging between nervous of and terrified by that optimism) and generally set myself on the path of being open. I guess I didn’t realize how sentimental I really was, under all that sarcasm. I definitely remember thinking it was just dumb old hormones.

Does anyone have advice on how to be find the balance between laconic curmudgeon and teary-eyed sentimentalist? This getting misty at Hallmark commercials has GOT to stop!