I spend a lot of time with my family.

Not in the wholesome, board-games-on-Sundays kind of way. More in the way of: plans will change 14 times in the group chat, and everybody is over the catch-up before it even begins. Also watching The Office while eating dinner still counts as family dinner, yeah? That kind of way.

And in that kind of family culture, conversations can become more about logistics than anything else.

Who's picking the kids up from school? (Husband, always.)

What's for dinner? (It's a nuggets night.)

Did you already feed the dog? (No kids, he can't have nuggets.)

Like a lot of families, we love each other with the heat of a thousand suns. We just… finish approximately zero meaningful conversations. Lately, I've realised we can be together constantly without actually slowing down long enough to know what's really going on beneath the surface.

And that kinda sucks.

So when I saw a free online game called The Family Roast advertised, I thought it might be a fun way to cut through some of the noise. Get us talking about something other than logistics.

It's a game made by Medibank to get us all talking and connecting (again). Medibank believe when the bonds of family are stronger, Australia is stronger.

And, my friends, I'm pleased to say it delivered exactly what I was hoping for.

The first time we played, it was just my daughter, my dad and myself. My dad had just watched my daughter play half a game of netball (after spending most of it trying to locate us amongst the sea of Saturday morning netballers), and afterwards we headed to lunch.

For context, there were hot chips on the table, around 82 very loud conversations happening around us and nap o'clock fast approaching. Safe to say, nobody was at their emotionally articulate best.

Regardless, I followed the link, plugged our names in and refused access to the hot chips without participation.

The first card had me asking my daughter: "What's a question you wish I asked you more?"

To which she replied, without missing a beat: "Would you like $100?"

Not quite the deep-and-meaningful answer I was hoping for, but it made me laugh out loud, which, of course, made her immediately more willing to keep playing.

And slowly, the questions started to work their magic.

An answer I think I'll always remember, happened when we were eating ice-cream an hour or so later. It was quieter by then, and we were hydrated, which honestly makes a bigger difference than you'd think.

It was my dad's turn to ask the question and up came: "How did someone in this family bring you joy recently?"

Again, my daughter instinctively answered: "Today, when it was the third quarter and I saw you'd come to see my netball game."

It was so spontaneous and authentic and, because he was sitting right there at the table, he got to hear it.

And I've been thinking about it ever since.

Not because it was overly emotional, but because so often in families we carry gratitude around quietly without ever quite finding the right moment to say it out loud.

Thank you for showing up. For listening. For being my person. For being my cheerleader.

Family life is noisy and messy and constantly moving. Sometimes meaningful things get buried underneath overcooked vegetables, logistics and good intentions.

But for one small moment, my daughter got to tell her Poppy exactly what mattered to her, and I could tell, by the tell-tale glint in my dear dad's eye and the way he tipped his head to the side and told her, "There's nowhere else he'd rather be," that her words landed. 

And that, honestly, felt pretty special.

The next night, we decided to play again around the dinner table. This time it was my husband, my daughter, my son and me.

Poppy wasn't there anymore, but interestingly, the conversation he had participated in the day before still sort of lingered around the table.

Not that things immediately turned heartfelt.

My son completely misunderstood the concept of The Family Roast and instead interpreted it as a formal opportunity to "roast me". Specifically, launching into an alarmingly accurate impersonation of me earlier that morning saying things like: "I guess I'll just do everything myself then, SHALL I?" followed quickly by my declaration that I was going for a nap. 

Honestly, tough but fair. And after he accepted a family Oscar for his performance, he got the card: "What's something you've always wanted to know about this family?"

And he took the opportunity to ask his dad:

"How old were you when Gruff died?"

Gruff is what we called my husband's dad.

My husband, who had spent most of the game resisting participation entirely, answered softly: "It'll be ten years ago next year, bud."

And then there was this tiny silence.

Not awkward. Not overly emotional. Just a pause.

I found myself wondering what had just opened up between father and son in that moment. I wondered whether he already roughly knew the timeline, but had maybe been wanting to ask his dad about his late dad for a while without ever quite knowing how.

That's what surprised me most about the Medibank Family Roast. It didn't suddenly transform us into deeply earnest people sitting around discussing our feelings by candlelight. It just created little openings where more honest things could sneak through.

And maybe that's actually enough? 

Because family life moves fast. We spend so much time surviving routines, school, sport, dinner, work, grief, joy, overwhelm, underwhelm… whelm? With all of this, of course, the deeper conversations can accidentally get buried underneath the everyday-ness of it all.

But every now and then, something cuts through.

A child tells her grandfather that simply showing up mattered.

A son asks his dad a question he may not otherwise have asked.

Somebody feels seen.

Somebody gets to love out loud and somebody else gets to feel that love land. 

Play the Medibank Family Roast — Medibank's free online card game to get you connecting and talking.

Featured image: Supplied.

IN PARTNERSHIP WITH Medibank

The Medibank Family Roast is a card game designed to get families connecting and talking. Because when the bonds of family are stronger, Australia is stronger. Live Better, with Medibank.