Friday, 8 March 2013

losing my sense of humour

My daughter was talking about her cousins - traits they have that were passed on through a parent. Then she asked, "But Mom, where did I get my funniness from?" Translation: you and dad aren't funny, so why am I?

This made me sad, but I realize she's right. Over the years, I've significantly serious-ed up, and I've lost that funny feeling. What happened? I remember giggling uproariously, often during church or with my cousin at a sleepover. I miss that feeling of uncontrollable laughter.

When did I get so serious?

I think it was a gradual process.

First teacher's college, then teaching kindergarten and grade one, where I supervised children's behaviour and told them when they were being inappropriate. Big funny-killer, even though the work brought me joy.

Then I became part of committees that talked about shrinking budgets. Not a whole lot of laughing that happened there, unfortunately.

Then we bought a house.

Then I started nagging more.

Then my cousins and I, who had a Christmas tradition of dressing up in weird costumes and carolling to our families at our Christmas gathering then getting changed and pretending it wasn't us, stopped one year. I guess we were all of a sudden too mature for that.

Any suggestions of how I could find my lost sense of humour are more than welcome.

I have an interest in wisdom literature lately, so here's my inspiration from the book of Proverbs, talking about an "excellent wife":

Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at a time to come. (Proverbs 31:25)

Here's to more laughing over the weekend! Another Lent discipline.


  1. Let's get the kids sitters and double date at a comedy club. We could use some laughs too.

    1. Great idea, Cam! My only fear would be being picked on by the comedian. But if we're well in the back corner, I'd be all for it! A comedy MOVIE might be even better... :)

  2. Ideas for reclaiming one's humour on a budget:

    1. Play "Who, What, Where, When, Why" game with a table full of people who have known each other a long time, OR know a lot of people in common;

    2. Play "The Dictionary Game" with a bent toward the silly side, complete with Waterloo County accent definitions to be read aloud;

    3. Play charades, or write a funny skit;

    4. Play "The Hymnal Title Game" during church and 'don't' laugh;

    5. Go to a greeting card shop and just read the funny cards;

    6. Look at old photo albums or slides;

    7. Chew 50 Double-Bubble bubble gums in your mouth a one time;

    8. Write some limericks, just because;

    9. Sing some old songs with some old friends;

    10. Pass gas with those same old friends!

    Hope some of these help the cause!
    - Guess who? :-)

    1. Thanks Mush! Very good, practical, reasonably-priced suggestions! As I thought about this over the weekend, I realized that my laughter practice doesn't need to be fine-tuned so much when I'm AWAY from home - I can laugh very easily there. It's AT HOME that I need some work. :)

  3. It certainly seems a bit easier to laugh with very young children because you can do silly songs and games with them like "this little pig" or the "itsty bisty spider" and it makes them, and you, giggle uncontrollably.Levi doesn't find that quite so funny any more. I can also laugh at Kai's dirty face or funny sayings and he doesn't resent it or get embarrassed yet. We start to get serious at an early age I think. I don't have as many good ways to create laughs with Levi any more. I think I just have to try to listen and laugh more at what he initiates like his groaner six-year-old jokes.

    1. I know what you mean about 6 year olds getting offended when you laugh at their cute antics. I really have to watch myself. With both girls! I feel like they can sometimes be the funny police - if I laugh, then they start questioning me: why did you laugh? Why did you think that was funny? And then whatever I was laughing at sure loses its funniness quickly. :(

  4. Oh, I hear you on this one, Rebecca! This year I was told by someone that I had lost my "joie de vivre" and it made me so sad. I also feel that much of my creativity has been sucked away and that part of my brain has been filled with mundane tasks like remembering library return dates, signing permission slips, remembering to pick up dry cleaning, take out the recycling, buy gerbil food before the poor critters starve to death, etc. etc.
    I recently came across a book of poems I had written in highschool through to university. I laughed 'til I cried reading them, something my teenaged self would have been very insulted by, I'm sure. I was so full of passion then, writing about love, angst, death, life with such feeling, evolving from an extremely sappy, romantic teenager into a very angry feminist uni student and on to a more spiritual explorer. At any rate, it was all very interesting, and even more interesting to me was how it all suddenly stopped. No more poems.
    So I join you in your quest: for humour, for laughter, for creativity, for joie de vivre!!! We can do it, girl!

    1. Indeed. Now my wheels are turning about some joint poetry project we could do. That's the part that made me sad to read: no more poems. But I don't believe it that you've lost your joie de vivre.
      I totally can relate to creativity being sucked away by mundane tasks.