Licensed to Laugh

While reading (and thoroughly enjoying) Jen Hatmaker's For The Love, a number of things have occurred to me.  Things I knew but have forgotten.  Things I haven't realized.  Things I should keep in the forefront of my mind.

Number one on the list is I have a license to laugh.  To find humour in things.  To find joy in life.  Life is not meant to be drudgery.

My go-to release is laughter.  In the most stressful situations, I laugh.  And sometimes it seems totally inappropriate.  Like when my dear hubby was sick and dehydrated with the flu a few years back.  I called a precious friend late at night and asked her to sit with our children while I took my invalid husband to the ER, which she did, because that's what friends do.  Hallelujah!

Because he was having issues with our friend Mr. UpChuck, they immediately provided him with a hospital approved barf receptacle.

It had a white plastic ring and and expandable blue plastic bag that looked alarmingly like a giant raincoat, if you catch my drift.  It just looked so funny to me that I started laughing.

So, while my pale white man was trying to answer the professionals' questions, I was laughing hysterically.  Crying, actually.  Why did I find this so funny?  It wasn't actually that humorous, but after spending 7-10 days nursing my entire family who had been camped out in the living room looking like a war zone reenactment - bodies everywhere, moaning and groaning - a trash can by each fevered head - 

I was the only one left standing.

Why this last man standing = mom phenomenon occurs, I do not know.

What I do know is that I was doling out Tylenol, washing and replacing puke buckets, going through rolls and rolls of paper towels and rug cleaner hour by hour, night and day for over a week.  I mention this not to present myself as a martyr, but to bring you to a closer understanding of why I appeared certifiably insane when my hubby and I were in the ER.  He had heart palpitations and dizziness, for peat's sake.  The least I could have done was have a little compassion.  I could've controlled myself, right?  Not really.  I was at my breaking point.

When would another inappropriate burst of laughter have occurred?  Countless times.  Less serious times - when my child injures themselves doing something ridiculous, like twirling around like a gymnast on the chair during dinner.  What did she think would happen?  I still comfort her and pat her back, laughing (silently) all the while.

Once, in a MOPS meeting years ago, we were making a craft project - I think we were gluing clothespins onto a prettied-up board to create a memo holder to hang on our wall at home.  I have enough trouble with craft projects to begin with, but I would try hard and the results were never something I'd want to hang on the wall.  Let's be honest. 

While working on my less-than-great wall art, a woman in our group accidentally superglued her fingers together.  All of them.  Like a mitten.  She panicked and called her husband who advised her to go immediately to the emergency room.   There was no way to remedy this situation.  I hadn't heard the rest of the conversation or situation, but she was really stressed out and on the verge of tears.  Without viewing her face (I was concentrating on my project), she came and told me her fingers were glued together, which I thought was hilarious, so I laughed.  OK, I guffawed.  Loudly.  And then she really started crying.  I had no idea.  I would've laughed at myself had I done such a funny thing, but she didn't think it was very funny.  Whoops. 


Anywho, this is what happens. 

In a situation where I should be quiet and respectful, I just plain burst out with laughter. 

And now I know it's okay to find the humour in life.  I just shouldn't always share my laughter with everyone else.  Laughter is fine, but discretion is advised.  Unless it's something I've done to myself.  Or it's something my children have done and they can't see me laughing.