Mealtime

     It is hard to bring a family together.  Or is it?  Maybe demanding the time and effort is what is hard.  Either way...I make it a must do.  We run in many directions all day, so for a chunk of time I make it a priority to be together.  At the table.  Now, before you worry that I will bust out a series of snooty little rules...please put your shield down and relax.  It's not that kind of battle.  Go fight with local government or something if you are angry. 
    Meals are where we join up and connect.  Yes, some of them are home cooked and amazing.  Maybe I have felt inspired to bust out a new recipe or dig deep for a classic or learn what the hell gluten is all about.   There is a possibility of a seasonal veggie fresh from a farm or a highlighted autumnal squash or fruit.  (Please note my sarcasm.  It's true and all but I'm saying it with a very bad accent.)  But maybe we are having cheesesteaks laden with grease, goo and the type of fats that are being squawked about on Facebook as I type this.  Last night we had sausage and peppers (made by moi) but we EVEN ATE THEM ON PAPER PLATES.  Shhhhhhh, don't tell the dish police.  The point is flexibility.  The point is finding the balance.  The point is listening to what we all are excited to talk about that night.  Sometimes the little guy gets the floor because he is working out some new concept he is trying to wrap his head around.  Other days...my daughter might need to be authentic and silly after a day battling with the new challenges of middle school.  My partner might need to vent about the frustrations of teaching high school seniors.  I might need validation about how I spent my time behind the scenes of motherhood. We all have voices at our dinner table.  The television is quiet.  Manners are expected.  Rules are clarified. 
     For a second there you put your shield back up and lifted your dagger.  Relax.  Some nights we veg in front of the tv as we eat because we are all too wiped to dig deeper while dining.  We laugh at a show we have all agreed is hysterical...though we do tend to find ones that teach us a little something about life in the process. But we sit and we share.  I don't allow others to meander away when they are finished.  I make everyone chip in with the cleaning up.  We take turns setting the table.  Maybe one day there will be a new poster..."Everything I needed to know about life I learned at the dinner table" sort of thing. 
     Now, how to do I do this in the sandwich?   Well...my father is old.  He likes certain food and hates others but he is quiet about it for the most part.  The funny new thing is how he eats things he never would've touched years ago and won't eat the things he used to devour.  The aging mind loses the ability to discern certain flavors and has therefore allowed me to sneak in things that would have been previously snarled at.  Rosemary, cilantro and curry run rampant through our kitchen now...because they are finally allowed to.  The kids...well they have to eat what is put before them.  Period.  Luckily, they are pretty open to most things but even when they aren't...that's all that is being served.  If you are hungry you will eat.  Picky and starving don't ever mix.  As for the man across from me, he knows to eat his veggies if he wants a peaceful meal.  I am also sure to take turns with the likes of the group.  If I make you cutlets one day and the other one soup the next...everyone is happy at some point.  Eat this today and you might get your favorite on Thursday.  Patience is good.  Put that on my poster with the rest of it.  I have learned that along with the exotic herbs, organic heirloom tomatoes and quinoa I must also serve the Kraft mac and cheese, fish sticks and chocolate pudding.  But more importantly I have to throw in conviction, strength, courage and compassion. Do I measure up my Weight Watchers points every time?  No.  But sometimes I do and I guess that's better than never doing it.  We all know some days are easier or harder than others and I am kind to myself as well as my family. 
     I don't yell when we spill milk anymore.  I have gathered the courage to demand help.  Miss Martyr is missing with Miss Nelson.  I feel good when people devour the yummy placed before them but am not held up by a lack of praise.  I have broken the bad mealtime cycles that were passed to me and yet carried on the pleasant and honored traditions as well.  And whether we are eating fresh kale chips or frozen peas we all get up knowing we are loved by the family we have just shared a meal with...together.  Dessert is not the only sweetness we have found there.