My year of 100 Family Dinners Week 39: Dinners 91-95

When We Stayed Home and Why That Ended Up Mattering Most

Fall break wasn’t supposed to look like this.

We had planned to travel, to go somewhere different, to step out of routine for a bit. Instead, we were home home. No trips. No big plans. No change of scenery. Just regular life stacked on top of medical uncertainty and a new normal we’re still learning how to hold.

My son continued football practice this week, and I waited nearby every time just in case.

My daughter had her regular appointments. We stayed close to home, close to each other, letting the days unfold quietly.

At first, I felt restless. I wanted to do something special with the kids. I kept waiting for the moment where the week would turn into something memorable. And then, almost without noticing, the days passed and what we were doing was the thing.

A Lot of Time, In One Room

This week brought a lot of time with my son.

He had multiple seizures and several moments where he didn’t feel well and thought one might be coming. When that happens, we sit together in my bed (where he feels safe.) Many of our dinners this week happened there too. Simple meals. Familiar routines.

A TV show on low in the background.

We’ve been watching Atypical together. There are only three seasons, and we’re moving through them faster than I expected. I think my son relates to it. And my daughter, well, there’s a brother and a sister in the show, and a sister who quietly looks out for her brother. That part hits close to home.

Something has shifted in my daughter lately. I can’t pinpoint exactly when or how, but she’s handling her brother’s medical needs with so much more steadiness now. She’s calm. Helpful. Present. The kind of sibling support you don’t teach: you just witness and hold with gratitude. They don’t always get along (what siblings do?), but right now, they are showing up for each other in beautiful ways.

Five Dinners, Countless Moments

Because we were home so much, we had five dinners together this week.

None of them were fancy. None of them were new recipes or big accomplishments. But we were together. Eating. Talking. Sitting in the same space. And that mattered more than anything else.

This journey started as a goal of 100 family dinners. Somewhere along the way, it’s become something deeper. A reminder that sometimes what our kids need isn’t activity or distraction, it's just us. Steady. Available. Close by.

A Night Out and a Necessary One

Toward the end of the week, I found something small but special. A local theater was putting on Six (the story of Henry VIII’s wives). I arranged for my son to spend the evening with his dad so I could take my daughter out for dinner and a show.

Just the two of us.

It wasn’t extravagant. But it mattered. She needed it. I needed it. A little reminder that even in hard seasons, joy can exist alongside worry.

The Quiet Loneliness

This was also a week where the absence of shared responsibility felt heavier.

My co-parent chose to be away on a work/surf trip. I wasn’t supposed to know it was also a surf trip but I did live with him for over 20 years. I have friends. I have support. And still, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone than I did this week.

And maybe that’s worth saying out loud, because I know I’m not the only mom who has felt that way holding everything together while someone else steps away.

The Heart of This Week

Nothing big happened this week.

And yet everything important did.

We stayed home. We stayed close. I watched my kids grow in quiet, unseen ways. We leaned into connection instead of distraction. We chose presence over plans.

Five dinners. And a family figuring out how to move forward together.

Sometimes the most pivotal moments aren’t the loud ones, they’re the weeks where we simply stay, and love each other through it.

And that counts.