How Laughter Might Be the Thing That Gets Us Through This

One of the things I did this year as it became clear that we were in this shelter-in-place situation for the long haul was subscribe to NY Times Cooking. I’ve always been a reluctant cook—not a reluctant eater, trust me—and dang, there seemed to be so many meals to cook suddenly and I needed inspiration.

The newsletters, mainly written by Sam Sifton, the food editor for the Times, have been one of the surprise highlights of this bonkers time for me. (I get nothing in return for saying this! You can read the newsletters without paying here.) 

The thing that has made them such a balm is that Sifton somehow manages to make me feel like he gets me, even though he’s obviously speaking to thousands of people from all over the world.

toddler laughing

I also love him for reminding me that, when there’s nothing to be done about life being what it is right now, we can always cook something that makes us feel good—or inspired, or better—or simply focused on something besides the pandemic for an hour.

I’ve been thinking about how there’s a parallel thing we can do for ourselves with parenting, which—like cooking—is a thing we have to continue doing whether we want to or not. (And believe me, I know you sometimes do not want to. I sure don’t.)

I think what Sam Sifton is trying to tell us is that we can remember how to play with cooking again, the way we did when we first made meals with a partner, or tried to find the right foods for our young babies to eat.

We can find joy again in a thing that has felt so much like a “have-to” this year, especially in recent months.

So, here’s my suggestion. Let’s find a way to play in our parenting again too, and see if we can do more than just “make it through” the holidays and the end of this very strange, very trying year.

If you read my newsletters or blog posts, you already know how much I love to talk about play. One of the main reasons is that the laughter it generates can be so darn useful when we’re raising kids—it helps them feel less tense and tight, and it reminds them that we can be fun as well as stern and bossy.

Mother and daughter outside

But sometimes I forget to say how much we need it, too. Good lord, do I need a good laugh. I bet you do too, and Netflix can’t supply them all. 

So, for the rest of the month, find a way to laugh with your kids, at least once or twice a week. You’ll be better off for it, and so will they (see what I did there? You get to be first for once!). 

Here are some ideas for how to get it going on purpose, instead of the kind of semi-hysterical laughter we might sometimes fall into to keep from crying:

  • Have a two-song dance party, and get really, really ridiculous when you dance. If they’re old enough, let them pick one song, and you pick one song. Close the curtains so the neighbors won’t see. If anyone laughs, you’re on the right track.

  • Have a snowball fight. Crumple up some sheets of paper to make snowballs and go for it. Or, use some balled-up socks. Pratfalls galore, please.

  • Get dramatic rest. The next time you’re too tired to play, make a big deal of it. Lie down on the ground and loudly proclaim that you couldn't possibly play. “Oh noooooooo, I’m too tired! I can’t move at all!” Keep going until the giggles are flowing and/or you feel the benefits of your quick lie-down.

  • Sing, don’t talk. You know those things you have to say over and over? Try opera-singing them next time. It feels so much better and they think it’s hilarious too. Makes me smile every time.

And also, I really should say this more often, but have I told you lately what a good job you’re doing? If not, allow me to say it now.

You are doing great.

Are you perfect? No! Does that mean you’re not doing great? Also no! Please remember this.

You are showing up for your kids. You are thinking about how to be the parent you want to be. You’re reading a blog post about parenting to the end, for goodness’ sake!

They are so lucky to have you.

Here’s to laughter getting us through, to cuddles, to moments of peaceful quiet, and to a brand-new year where we get to keep trying to be our best. I am with you.

Love,

Caroline

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