The other day I told Kurt he is really lucky to be married to someone that has such a great sense of humor. He agreed. This thought came up again because of Katy's recent post. And because I do realize I lost my sense of humor most of the child rearing years. I do not know where it went. I want to blame it on the children but that certainly isn't true. I just simply forgot to remember that between the sorrows, the seriousness, the pleading, and the prayers, life can be pretty darn funny.
Most of you know the infamous moment during the most intense mothering period of my life when everyone at the dinner table, including the father, were arguing about something. See, I can't even remember what, but I was so upset, threw my fork down on the table in my upsettness and, low and behold, the fork stuck straight up, tines embedded into the (luckily) antique table.
Well, this was a great cause of glee among the above mentioned arguing family which fueled my anger much beyond the appropriate righteous indignation of a mother in Zion. So, I stormed off. The family then stayed dead quiet until they thought I was no longer in ear shot and burst into riotous laughter.
Above is a picture of me when life was really funny and not just because my mother cut my bangs into oblivion. I am one blessed little girl. Well, big girl, way too big of a girl. And that is the point, counting blessings brings joy and laughter. And a few days away from all the kids doesn't hurt either.