On Deliberate Dinnertime Love

I pulled out the camera as dinner was starting tonight. No one had complained about the menu. Everyone was still smiling about the joke Dan had just cracked about my unwillingness to offer the blessing on our food. (I have laryngitis.) J was already asking for seconds on butternut squash soup in advance, and he was making a remark about how unappreciative kids (as if he's not one himself) can be of the all the food we have in this country. 

It was a good moment. A payday kind of moment.

Tonight my family asked "why are you taking a picture" and I replied that I don't remember taking that many pictures of our family eating dinner, and that's strange to me since it's such an important part of our day. I routinely anticipate the moments of gathering together each evening, sometimes a week in advance, and always for an hour or so before. I think through our nutrition options and chop, sautee, drain, stir, and simmer before we actually get to sit together. Similarly, Dan is almost always home on time for dinner, he serves as clean-up guy, and he compliments me daily.

We eat dinner around our small counter-height table in our small kitchen. I remember seeing dozens (maybe over a hundred) families eat dinner like this is Portugal at their small, practical drop-leaf tables, sitting on small stools that could be tucked under the table at the end of the meal. If I were to go back to Portugal today, yes, I would walk over the Rio Douro and visit the University Library in Coimbra and walk up and through the castle at Guimaraes, but I would most look forward to sitting in kitchens of old friends, tightly tucked around their tables while we ate soup together. 

In the Player home we follow this pattern most nights. I love being within a step or two from the sink and the dishwasher and the utensils drawer. I love that my kids have to learn to listen to each other chew and tone down their own bad habits to keep the peace, too. I love that they have to learn to listen to each other's stories and hear about each other's interests. I am grateful that we live in a country where there are so many food options (many miraculously transported from other states and countries) and so my kids enjoy every kind of vegetable, trying them out for the first time in my recipes.

We each play our part at dinner. A tells stories about her day. J asks questions. D teaches them something interesting--tonight it was the legend of the man John Henry and how "the John Henry effect" is cited in research today. E is my most reluctant eater, but he thanks me profusely once his stomach is full.

It is no wonder to me that we have been encouraged by psychologists and spiritual leaders to spend mealtimes together as a family. This time together always yields immediate dividends of, at the minimum, satisfied physical comfort, and often the bonus of emotional bonding and renewed daily understanding of each other.