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My name is Mir, and I want you to sit up straight, get your elbows off the table, chew with your mouth closed, and tell me how your day was. If you want to compliment my cooking, too, well that's just a bonus.
That's right; I'm a stickler for the family dinner.
You might think that I was raised this way and have blindly continued with tradition, but it's just the opposite -- there was no such thing as family dinner when I was growing up. We all fended for ourselves with the cooking, most of the time, and we all ate in front of the television. Usually different televisions, in fact. Dinner wasn't a time to bond or expand our palates. It was a time to eat Spaghetti-Os and watch reruns.
When I visited with friends whose families gathered for the evening meal and talked and laughed while eating meals cooked from scratch, I vowed that one day my home would be like that. It felt cozy. Eating that way was fun rather than a necessity. I wanted that experience in my own home.
And now I have it. Don't get me wrong; my children still bicker periodically and at least one meal a week brings groans of "Why did you make this? I don't like [insert world's most horrible food here]!" Sometimes I'm tired and cranky and it's not unheard of for my husband and me to be standing in the kitchen at 6:15 going, "Wait, I thought you were cooking tonight! Crap, what can we make in 10 minutes?" It's not a perfect system. We're far from a perfect family. But family dinners are one of my very favorite things.
As far as the food goes, we try to do menu planning and grocery shopping on the weekends. A week's menu typically includes one night of planned leftovers and a "portable" meal for Friday night, when we gather 'round the television (see, I'm not completely opposed to eating in front of the TV) and eat dinner to a recorded episode of Mythbusters or a movie. We average 2-3 wholly vegetarian meals each week, and menus including meat require a meat substitute of some kind for my vegetarian daughter. While I do most of the cooking because I'm home more than anyone else, my husband cooks a night or two each week, and the children have started having "kids' nights" where they put together a menu for us, as well. My freezer almost always holds an "emergency" frozen pizza, but the bulk of our meals incorporate very little in the way of convenience foods. Children are required to taste everything on their plates (though I don't make them clear their plates or otherwise finish foods they dislike), and discussion of how gross/yucky/boring a food appears is not permitted.
But the beauty of the family dinner really has very little to do with the food we eat. I care about the food, of course, but the food is almost ancillary in my mind. Family dinners 'round the table are about ritual and bonding. The kids are off at school all day. My husband is off at work. I'm here working in solitude. After the kids get home, it's a flurry of homework and activities and often I'm still scrambling to finish my work as they embark on their afternoon pursuits. By the time my husband gets home, the kids are up in their rooms or outside or off with friends. He and I discuss scintillating matters like the day's annoyances and bills and whether anyone got the mail.
And then... it's time for dinner. We gather together -- often for the first time that day, really, as different school schedules mean we're not all eating breakfast at the same time -- at the table and we say grace. We say thank you for the food, for our family, for allowing us to spend this time together. And we have the first relaxed meal of the day. Together.
We go around the table and everyone shares the best and worst parts of their day. We tell my son to take his elbows off the table a minimum of three times per meal. I exhort my daughter to sit up properly and to please take smaller bites. My husband jokes about sending the kids to finishing school to learn how to eat more like humans and less like wolves. It happens every night, and woven in-between the food and the ribbing about table manners is our reinforcement of what it















