Call me a monster. But it is funny. All of it.

Besides praying and drinking an entire bottle of wine, each, do you know how Mike and I survived two long NICU stays and one evil brain tumor in our baby's head?

We made fun of everything.

Because seriously, when your daughter is 2 lbs 14 ounces and you've been in the NICU for a month; the crazy lady who insists the nurses dress her 3 pounder in play clothes daily, with matching hand bands is pretty much the funniest thing ever.

You think I am a monster?

Or when you see the same strange woman walking into the NICU day after day in her slippers and NASCAR pajama pants. And suddenly you realize she is not in-patient at the hospital: she actually drove in her car with fuzzy slippers on.

It is really funny.

Or when you can joke with other cancer patients about brain tumor perks: because suddenly everyone wants to give you a free frozen turkey at Christmas and no one knows why exactly, but you take it.  And then have no idea what to do with it, so you toss it in the frozen trash can that is your freezer. And forget about it. Even after one thousand people ask you to donate your frozen turkey. But you can't, because it is your brain tumor perks turkey.

It is funny.

All of it. The world is both tragic and absurd. I still laugh when I think of my mother asking my father to die more quietly. Because really, is this possible? To control the volume of your death?

And I laugh that my mother refuses to shave my brother's face and he looks like a hippie, until my sweet husband has to figure out how to shave through a veritable forrest of face hair; typically on our paver patio, because no one wants all that hair inside.

It is really funny.

My life, your life, everyone's life is too damn hard not to laugh. It is too freaking absurd not to see the comedy and the sitcom in the nonsense we are subjected to.

So call me a monster; and then laugh.

Because otherwise, it is all just misery.


  1. My mother plans her old age and funeral during every conversation. I laugh hysterically, my husband thinks we are morbid. Everyone has their own ways of coping...


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