Family Dinners

It's Wednesday and the kids are back and it's making me think about what I wrote a few days ago. It used to be that every other week, when they'd been gone for the 5 day stretch, Wednesday afternoon was ROUGH. It's just the three of us and, to me, they bickered too much (I grew up with three sisters; I'm fairly knowledgeable about proper bickering amounts.) and were poorly behaved, in general. Whether it is was because of the transition or us getting used to each other or the ungodly amount of television viewing they were able to cram into 120 hours (Slightly more than what I was able to manage. But I'm a grown up. And don't do it in front of children. Or watch TV in front of them either. Hilarity.), it didn't matter. What matters is that it was ROUGH. For all involved.

Husband would come home to a cranky, possibly pissed-off me and while I suppose being angry at each other can be bonding, it wasn't the kid of bonding I enjoy. Over the course of dinner, blood sugars would normalize, the mood would lighten and by dessert, everything was cool again. Better than cool. Wednesday afternoons are no longer as difficult as they used to be, but I still count on Wednesday night dinners to bring us back together.

I love a family dinner and think most people just pay lip service to it. In my parents' home, we weren't allowed to answer the phone during dinner. No TV. No complaining about what was being served. Upon divorcing, husband made sitting down at the table for meals a priority because it was one of the things he couldn't manage to make happen during his marriage and something that bothered him. Of course, with the addition of evil stepmom came many more rules. I was appalled that the kids didn't cut their own meat. That they didn't ask for things to be passed and didn't bother saying please and thank you when someone did these things for them. And good lord!, the open-mouth chewing!

I'm happy to report that all that (for the most part) has changed. Each night we're together, we sit at a table set by one of the kids, with cloth napkins (They were made by a friend and used at our wedding. I like that they remind us of that day.) and have an entirely pleasant meal. Everyone samples each dish, even the weird-looking ones. We engage in conversation and share our day. We all work to clean up and put away the leftovers. Sometimes because we're in a hurry to watch TV.

I don't need it to be perfect, I swear. And thank goodness, because it isn't. Sometimes there's talking with a mouthful. And sometimes it's not even me.