Wow, so, from Divorce to Reconnecting your family, we gots all kinds of family (dys)function goin on here at LGYL. (There something you’re not mentioning? Like that you just fell off the friggin face of the earth & then returned w/out a word? -Ed.) [Um, yeah, that blog pause? You have NO idea. -Lmns]
But back to this post. We’re pausing… (again, dammit? -Ed.) [No, I mean shifting gears from obnoxious to eloquent. Will you just shaddap Ed? -Lmns] …for an uncharacteristically sentimental moment to ponder some of the wonderful, beautiful things about family, and ways of reconnecting. Now that I’ve totally ruined the mood, take a deep breath, smile, and consider these ways of connecting with those you love most:
Reconnecting with your family: a How-to
Presence. Quiet. Conversation. Shared experience. Touch. Collaboration. Play.
Preparing + sharing a good meal.
Love as a verb more than a noun.
Stepping away from the web, the gadgets and the external world. (Tho its sometimes possible to reestablish civil terms via email when something goes off the rails.)
Shared effort/work/accomplishment: Chores, yardwork, raking leaves, chopping wood, shoveling snow, accomplishing together. Shared exhaustion and satisfaction in a job well done.
And when we got home, well we just started chopping wood
Because you never know how next year will be
And we’ll gather all our arms can carry — Dar Williams
Retreat/vacation: Even just goofy daytrips. Especially goofy daytrips. I friggin love goofy daytrips.
Also incredibly important — self care and self-love. Nothing above will work without it. This used to be my biggest problem. The more solid you can be loving you, the more you can give to others. The oxygen on the airplane? Put your own mask on first.
Wherein we learn to read our Twitter @s and realize we’ve neglected our esteemed readers. Sorry!
Shouts out to @FoulBastard for: “Ew, keep the foul rotting meat away from me. I’ve had enough back in the day.”
definitely any fish that has been “preserved”. The Scandinavians have a particularly foul example called lutfisk.
Ew, good point, preserved fish that only TASTES rotten! And he adds…
corked wine, damn shame and makes me cry every time. Guess that’s neither food nor rotting, but I just had to get that off my chest.
We could not agree more, Jeff, and if you’re ever in Boston that’s an excellent, and not corked, bottle of wine on us!
Who knew our debt to Coney Island?
Coney Island, he said. They had a display, a freak show, for lack of a better word. Perhaps one day a baby was born too soon and this experimentally-minded doctor said ‘Let’s see if we can keep this fetus alive outside the womb…’ and he managed it, and then again, and then they were all hooked, trying to get them to survive smaller and smaller, and nobody had ever seen such a thing. It was one of the most popular displays.
We got off so easy. 34+ weeks. Healthy. Just 8 days’ NICU. Coney Island, I’ll never look at a corn dog the same way again.
Kate is another hero. My baby’s twin whispered silently, commonly, away just into the fetal period. She’s had the strength to meet, love, nurture and surrender her Liam, sharing his short life and radiant memoryspirit —
When the sun dapples through the trees they whisper we have him. They may be all the sum of osmosis and photosynthesis and veins and nutrients but to me altogether they are one voice that breathes, knows, keeps.
— with every one of us.