Lord, help me to laugh

Lord, help me to laugh (so I don't cry) was the prayer I uttered at 8 a.m. after 2 minutes of using the breast pump to which I had not attached a bottle, leaving a pile of milk on my lap and side. I can attest that mommy brain is real. Last week I cooked an elaborate breakfast for dear friends coming in from out of town only to realize when they were half an hour late, that I had been off by a week. I did the same sort of miscalculation with a conference Bob had, resulting in a friend having to watch Caiden last minute and me having to leave him with someone outside of family earlier than I had planned. Comic relief in these situations, or rather, finding the comedy in them is the only thing that helps me get by.

Caiden has been waking up only once at night, usually right around 4 a.m. and I have felt somewhat normal again. Last night he decided he wanted to get up at 3, 5, and 6:30 to which I may or may not have said to him in my whiniest voice, "Come ooooon, kid." It didn't help that he often doesn't realize that what he gets his milk from is attached to me and he tries to take it with him when he pulls back hard. BUT when he gives me that oh so genuine smile or makes a laughing noise right at the punchline of my joke (coincidence?--I think not), it melts my frustration and impatience. For the most part. I am glad someone (besides Bob) finds humor in my stupid silly songs that all seem to have the same chorus (Where is Thumpkin and Three Blind Mice) and the ridiculous faces and jokes that I make.

I think parenting is a good time for me to start taking the journey of laughing at myself. Lord knows there have been and will be MANY opportunities.