Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and people unfriend you on Facebook and take your blog off their reader.

Last night I was horribly, horribly ill.

I don't know why. All I know is that one minute I was sitting on the couch flipping through the latest issue of "Fitness" magazine and the next? I was hair-deep in the toilet puking up my dinner and probably some of my lunch. And I really don't think anything I saw in Fitness made me feel that way (although I am really, really jealous of those skinny bitches in bikinis but that usually doesn't make me puke) , so it was probably something I ate. Probably, if I'm going to be further honest, I have cut so much junk out of my diet that I really shouldn't have stolen french fries from Boy Child's plate at lunch. They so, so did not agree with me.

I staggered out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen to get some water. Jason, thoughtfully said, "Are you okay?"

I told him that other than puking up my left lung, I was awesome.

And he said, "Are you pregnant?"

I laughed then and said, "That would require an act of Congress!" or something.

After that I felt better until I woke up at around 3am when Jason farted and it smelled so bad that the people two streets up from us said, "What the hell was that? Did you smell that? Did a fleet of trucks carrying diseased skunks crash outside our home?"

Then I thought about things (while praying that he wouldn't roll over because at least his back was turned the opposite direction from me when he let that torpedo fly).

I laughed about my infertility.

I laughed.


For years I have wept and sobbed and felt sad and pathetic and sorry for myself. Last night? It was just another part of me, like green eyes or kick-ass hair.

Yesterday Jason was talking about joining a men's group at church. While I am uncertain about what men's groups do (I think they were going to have a fishing tournament and the thought of Jason fishing makes me horselaugh in a really, really unattractive way), I am pleased that he will have an activity. Because, God knows the man sometimes needs a hobby other than harassing me for the washer/dryer and annoying the children by eating all the ice cream. I told him, "I'd like to join the ladies Bible study, but I just cannot fit one more thing in".

And that's true. And you know, you can't just fit a baby in. At this point, my life would really, really have to undergo some serious changes. And while it would be worth it...well.

Let's just say my heart is not cracked as it used to be.


My nose is though. Jesus God that fart was smelly.