Funny Bone

     We are sitting at the kitchen table doing school work. The nine year-old is doing long division and the 7 year-old is learning about parallel and perpendicular lines. The 4 year-old putters in with his drawing pad and pencil and pulls up a chair. The 1 year-old crawls up in his chair and proceeds to "help" him. The 12 year-old walks in and wants me to quiz her on her science chapter about fossils and uniformitarianism and catastrophism, and do I have a minute?  Even though breakfast was an hour ago, the 4 and 7 year-olds are hungry and ask for a snack; I say yes, and the 1 year-old manages to push the chair she is standing on away from the table. I catch her as she falls just in time as I am explaining right angles to the 7 year-old as she tries to cut into an apple. The 12 year-old is eating as well, and the 1 year-old, who has crawled in my lap, wants some. I try to pay attention to the science lesson as I remind the 9 year-old to stop looking out the window, and I am aware that the baby needs a new diaper.  I have a vague memory of the 17 year-old leaving to head to the library, and did I say goodbye to her? I can hear that the diaper change, which the 12 year-old is in charge of, is not going well. It's only 9:30 in the morning and my head is spinning. I'm  not sure if I should laugh or cry, but as a giggle comes bubbling up, I guess I am leaning toward laughing. Really, all this needs to top it off would be for the 15 year-old to walk in with a freshly killed squirrel!
     I think this is what women are talking about when I tell them I homeschool 7 kids and they say they would never have the patience for it. (Oops, the 1 year-old just pushed the chair away from the table again and is hanging off the table). I think this is the kind of thing that would make many women tear their hair out and yell in frustration. (Had to help someone on the potty). They tell me that they could NEVER do what I do, that they would just mess the whole thing up. (Had to pause here, to tie a cape on the 4 year-old so he can be Batman). They say that they admire what I do; that I am brave. (Hold on, I need to get the 1 year-old out from under a chair). They ask how do I do it and how could I possibly teach so many children. (Excuse me, the 4 year-old wants me to read him a story and the 9 year-old needs help with fractions).
     I have to admit, there are days when I feel impatient, cowardly, scatterbrained; as if I am messing things up, and want to tear my hair out. But why should I? This is funny; I can't make this stuff up. Why not just laugh at it, and let it add humor, not to mention entertainment, to my day? If I spend more time laughing, there is less time for crying and hair pulling. There is enough tragedy in life; I certainly do not need to add to it. Proverbs 17:22 says "A cheerful heart is good medicine,  but a crushed spirit dries up the bones."  Sobering words, yet simple words. I can choose laughter, and in doing so, I am receiving and giving something good, something that builds up and fills up. It's better to have one good funny bone than be filled with a bunch of dried up bones. May I tickle my children's funny bones as much as they tickle mine!