Laughing Gas

Last night I made a serious typo will sharing an Ipsy review on my Facebook (I share the reviews for points to buy things, don't judge).  The best part was the stream of comments beneath it.  I  laughed so hard I cried.  It was fantastic.  I'm couldn't screen shot the whole thing, but it's good.  I promise.

Maybe I'm twelve... I don't know, but it was stinking hilarious to me. You guys, I cried so hard.  And not just for a moment.  I would simmer down, and then 10 minutes later I would bust up laughing again.  I would look over at my husband and we would both cry.  This went on for probably almost two hours.

It felt so good.  Laughing felt so therapeutic.  The world was fun, my spirits were high.  All over a ridiculously typo.

On my walk this morning I asked myself why I don't laugh more often.  I'm not a scrooge by any means, but sometimes I just take things way too seriously.  I'm sure I'm not the only one.

I was reminded of my labor and delivery of my first born.  Forget the serene images from the professional birth photographers that are smattered all over my Facebook newsfeed, my labor was nothing any of you would want to see on my profile.  Puke, screaming, crying, more puke, over and over for 36 plus hours ending in a major surgery and me feeling like I was hit by a bus.  Oh, I had a baby in there somewhere, but that memory is a bit foggy.

At some point in my hours of pushing the pain meds failed me and I felt EVERYTHING.  I was puking everywhere in between pushes, then the nurse asked if I would like the laughing gas to take off the edge.  I didn't even know laughing gas was still a thing in labor and delivery but in rolled the dusty machine that looked like an antique.  Puke, Push, Gas, Puke, Push, Gas, then the gas started kicking in and it was wonderful.  The scene changed into something like this:

PUSH, SCREAM
GAS
Me: Wow my ears feel really waxy!! (in a slow slurred, high pitched, happy voice)
Nurse: Would you like me to give you a q-tip
Me: No I think I'll be okay.
PUSH, SCREAM
DRY HEAVE
GAS
Me: How am I doing?  This is great, is the baby coming?? (more slurring.  More happy.)
Nurse: You are doing so great!  She's coming down great (THESE WERE LIES BY THE WAY, I know she was trying to be encouraging, but I was deceived)
PUSH, SCREAM
GAS
(doctor enters)
Me: How was your day, how are you doing?? (even more happy.  slurring.)
Dr: Well... it was good (trying not to laugh at my half glass full perspective), How are you doing?
Me: Oh I'm so glad you had a good day, I'm doing gggrreeeeaaaat.  (one big long slur)

I was the happiest I could have been on that stuff.  I'm betting the anesthesiologist wishes he would have come in AFTER the laughing gas as my saracstic, "Oh, just who I wanted to see, someone who goes to my church," probably didn't go over so well when he came into the room as I was pushing. And YES I still have see this person in real life after he saw me in the worst state of my entire life.

There is a reason they used that laughing gas.  Perhaps laughter is one of the best medicines.  All I know is that after my laughing fit last night my perspective was so much more balanced.  The world wasn't so heavy.  I took a much needed break from overanalyzing this, that and the other thing.

Can we all stop taking ourselves and everything so stinking serious and have a little fun?  I am one of the first people someone would put into the "stick in the mud" category of friends, but I'm done.  I don't want to be a stick in the mud.  I need to laugh more and I hope you will join me.