The best medicine

A few days after Christmas I opened the fridge. It was bare. When my crazy Italian family gets together, we eat. And eat. It's not pretty. I'm not gonna lie. My thighs are still suffering.

But back to that fridge.

The weather was crappy. The roads were worse. And my kids were channeling some sort of wild howling beasts. But, a shopping trip was unavoidable.

We ventured out into the frigid, snowy yuck. Bad idea. Living on cold cereal would have been a better alternative. That hour at the grocery store was one of the longest in recent memory.

There were tantrums (by them). And meltdowns (by me). And when it was over, we were all sobbing. And starving. So I veered the car into the closest restaurant I could find: Applebees. Given the blizzard-like conditions, most sane people had locked themselves indoors. We were their only customers.

I shoveled food into their mouths as fast as I could, eager to get the check and get back home to enforce mandatory naps for all. As we finished our meal, another couple entered the restaurant, and although every other seat in the place was wide open, they sat them in the booth next to us.

And for some reason my girls thought having "neighbors" was hilarious. They started giggling. They couldn't stop. I was muzzling mouths and using threatening tones. Nothing worked.

They giggled louder. Deep belly laughs. Whole bodies shaking. Uncontrollable.

And then the man in the next booth started laughing. And then his wife. And then all of the servers gathered round the bar as they patiently waited for tip-bearing patrons began to chuckle.

It spread like wildfire. No one knew why they were laughing. But no one could stop it. The man in the booth next to me was in tears. One of the bartenders snorted. And that just added fuel to the fire. We laughed for a good 5 minutes. And looking around that restaurant, I could sense it was the best 5 minutes most of us had experienced in awhile.

When I was able to regain composure, I paid the check and gathered my children. As we passed the booth next to us the man touched my arm and said, "My wife and I are unexpectedly pregnant with our first. Thanks for reassuring us that kids are a blessing."

I paused, tempted to tell him about the worrying and the crying and the lack of sleep and the fighting and the tantrums and the loss of sanity. Instead I smiled, agreed with him and said, "They are the joys of my life."

Because when they giggle, it fixes everything. It erases all the long nights and the struggles to get them to use the big-girl potty and the constant battle to clean the playroom. Their laughter really does make everything better. I needed him to know that. That's the important part of parenting. The rest he will learn along the way.