Forget the tissues, grab a bucket.

A man wipes a tear from his face.
A man wipes a tear from his face.
Photo by Stocksnap on Pixabay

Need a good cry?

These 6 tearjerker songs about parenthood will have you blubbering like a newborn, then gazing at your “baby” — no matter how big or small.

For an extra tear-jerking spin, watch the videos, too.

Because all parents could use a good, healthy cry.

Seriously, The journal Scientific Reports discovered crying to music makes you feel better.

So crank up the tunes, grab a tissue (or a bucket), and listen to these tearjerker songs about kiddos growing up.

6 Tearjerker Songs about Parenthood

1. Turn Around — Nanci Griffith

“Where are you going, my little one, little one?

Where are you going, my baby, my own?

Turn around…

The tough times taught me how the ultimate beauty lies in the mundane.

A woman sits within the rays of a sunset.
A woman sits within the rays of a sunset.
Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.” Robert Brault

I have always prided myself on my ability to practice gratitude.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve thanked the Lord for my blessings on the majority of my days.

Still, even as someone who continuously reminds themselves of their blessings, I admit, I take so much for granted.

Due to the state of our world, I’ve been reflecting on which moments in my life have impacted my gratitude the most.

Ironically, I found the key moments in my life…

Mom of two, freelance writer, peanut butter lover.

A picture of the author that has been rendered as a painting.
A picture of the author that has been rendered as a painting.
Photo courtesy of

Accept what people offer. Drink their milkshakes. Take their love.”

Wally Lamb

Hey there! I’m Amanda — mom of two, freelance writer, and peanut butter lover, but let’s start from the VERY beginning.

I was born (and raised) in a teeny Southern Vermont town where my parents owned the only grocery store. I began “working” there when I was 7 — bagging bagels counts! I eventually ran a register, baked, stocked shelves, and rocked customer service.

While in Vermont, I got into sports and was a tri-varsity athlete in basketball, soccer, and…

How our daily commute sheds light on the metaphors of wind

A young boy pokes his head out of a car window.
A young boy pokes his head out of a car window.
Photo by Anton Luzhkovsky on Unsplash

“If the wind brushes against you, do not complain; it brushes against everyone.”
Matshona Dhliwayo

“Can I feel the wind on my face for a minute, mommy?” My sweet, 5-year old asks every morning — on our half-hour commute.

“Yes, honey, of course, you can,” I always say as I roll down the window, glance at the rearview mirror, and watch my boy close his eyes and smile. His rusty brown hair flows in all directions.

This is one of my favorite daily occurrences.

These days, when venturing in public resembles a dystopian novel, political flags appear everywhere, and…

Trying to make sense of our political world.

A girl takes duct tape off of her mouth.
A girl takes duct tape off of her mouth.
Photo by Maria Krisanova on Unsplash

I’ve been a people pleaser since I can remember, and for most of my life when it came to controversial conversations, I’d shy away or stay silent. Some close friends never even knew my political affiliation.

Controversy has never been my thing.

Then I became an official writer, and life spilled on the page.

For someone known for shying away from conflict — exposing my innermost opinions and thoughts to the world was terrifying.

But I did it, and in the last three years, I’ve tackled sensitive subjects on parenting, gender inequality, education, and more.

I’ve come a long way and learned that I can’t please…

A Love Poem

A white horse emerging from the darkness.
A white horse emerging from the darkness.
Photo by Tiago Almeida on Unsplash

My tears fall for you
reminding me of the snow outside our apartment window
that sinks beautifully and poetically to the concrete sidewalks
then disappears.

My soul and body aches while the thought of everything we built — lost —
stings my insides.

“Nothing is written in stone,” I whisper this cliche reminder over and over again.

The permanence is only a possibility, it’s not like those dying snowflakes on concrete with unquestionable fates.

It’s a suggestion, a choice, a maybe, an opportunity.

Complications spring everywhere like blossoming flowers
that bloom and perfect for a while,
then, eventually sink back into the…

At the beginning of the pandemic, with the increased demands of full-time child care and no separation between work and home, my small business was suffering. Read how constructing an outdoor office in my backyard saved it all.

My she shed (outdoor office)
My she shed (outdoor office)
My outdoor office in Ocala, FL. Photo by the author

In January of 2020, my freelance writing business was booming. And, despite the everyday challenges that come along with working motherhood, I was thriving too.

But then the pandemic hit, and so much of what I had worked so hard to build came crashing down.

You see, ever since starting my work at home journey in 2018, I had utilized part-time daycare…

The memory stuck with me and was an emotional experience.

Photo by Aziz Acharki on Unsplash

I hope to never be back here,” A beautiful silver-haired masked woman said while leaving Paddock’s Mall’s vaccination site in Ocala after confiding to the greeter she had just received her second shot.

I couldn’t help but notice the relief in her eyes, even as she sported an aqua blue mask. It was a look of not only victory but hope.

As a 38-year-old Olcala resident, I wasn’t there to receive a shot, but to do my taxes. . . in January.

However, while venturing to H and R Block, I passed the vaccination registration at the main entrance, where…

A poetic letter to a trolling critic

A confused man behind a computer.
A confused man behind a computer.
Photo by bruce mars on Unsplash

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.” — Teddy Roosevelt

Dear Sam,

I have delayed the tap-dancing monologue
surrounding your letter

due to
my fear of failure.

But since I’ve recognized that when you fear too much,
you‘re bound to fail.

At least that’s what an old goalie coach said
to me as he pummeled ball after ball at my head
screaming, “Get the f#*$% up,”
over and over…

Amanda Clark-Rudolph

Amanda is a work at home mama who contributes to various magazines and blogs. Contact her at for interview or blog articles.

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