During the month of August this year I suffered from a gruesome skin infection.  Unfortunately, it was on my face.  Not the most desirable place to host bacteria that causes pieces of your skin to roll up like an old dirty carpet and then fall off, exposing bright red oozing welts.

Oh sorry – were you eating your lunch?

It was first diagnosed as an extreme allergic reaction, and I was prescribed Prednisone.  I was updating Emma on my condition, my medication, and the loonnnggg list of side effects, when she made a little joke at my predicament.  Self-deprecating humour is my love language, so I chuckled appreciatively.  Then I couldn’t stop laughing – I snorted, cried, slapped my knee – and realized that I was exhibiting one of the side effects.  I struggled to explain my hysteria to Emma, sputtering, “inappropriate happiness is on the Prednisone list”.  She too found this hilarious and joined me in my tears of laughter, helplessly crumpling to the floor.

It’s true – “inappropriate happiness” is listed on the pharmacy documentation I received with my prescription.

As parts of my face slowly fell off that month, my spirits remained high, even as I was weaned off the Prednisone.  It made me think about recovery, resilience, and the ability to keep laughing.  And all of the times I have found humour and laughter in some of my darkest moments.

Quinn got the giggles at the first (and only) funeral she attended.  She didn’t know the person who had passed away – we had to bring our young girls because we couldn’t find a babysitter.  The solemnity of the occasion was too much for her and the laughter gurgled up from her little belly.  As Steve and I frantically tried to distract her, I finally succeeded in quieting her.

At that time, she had an irrational fear of the elderly – wrinkles and grey hair produced cries of terror (a good excuse to dye my hair and stock up on Oil of Olay).  Now, as she squealed with glee, I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “the priest is really, really old, and he’s going to come and speak to you if we aren’t quiet”.  This did the trick, she stopped laughing, and I have never felt like a worse mother.

She has a slapstick sense of humour and loves a good joke or funny situation.  One of my greatest joys is making her laugh and I have never again – or will ever – make an attempt to stop it.  I’m all for happiness – even the inappropriate kind!!