Shulamith was telling me how proud she is of herself because she set the table for dinner twice this past week. Yes, twice! In one week! My response, "That's two more times than I did." I must confess that I am indeed a failure mom when it comes to family dinners, a total and complete failure. Every study I've ever read on the subject shows that family dinners are important (and I assume they mean dinners around a table, one that has been set). This practice provides opportunity for children to talk about their lives, their daily achievements and struggles, their hopes for the future. In fact, these studies show that children raised in a home with regular family dinners are way less likely to become involved with illegal drugs. It's true.
Knowing this, I'm pretty sure it's one of life's miracles of grace that not one of my five kids has become a drug addict. And I am so thankful. Though this post may seem lighthearted, I mean that sincerely. You see, I'm just terrible at family dinners. I think we might have done them more often when we lived in Washington, when Gerald worked days. But for the past eight years, he has worked swing shift, so he's not home for dinner. And I'm just a very casual person about food. As you already know, I'm a terrible cook. Well I'm no better at making a table look good. I had a friend in Washington who seriously enjoyed the process of setting a table more than she enjoyed the actual meal. I never understood this, but her tables were so elegant. However, when the food isn't all that great and the table doesn't look good either, it's hard to be motivated, despite all the evidence about how healthy and important family dinners are.
The seven years we were in Montana, I tried to do family dinners once a week on Sunday. Everyone was home that day, so we could all eat dinner together. No, I didn't exactly set the table; I let people get their own food and utensils from the kitchen. But we at least ate the meal together at the table once a week. Since moving to Utah, though, even the "once a week" deal has gone by the wayside. We generally eat in the same room (not always, but often) and around the same time. Some of us sit in the little TV nook adjacent to the kitchen; others roam around the large island bar or sit on a bar stool. And I have to say, I like it that way. The formal meal is not appealing to me. We still do it on holidays and when we have guests, but we have very few friends here, so guests are rare. Twice we've hosted the missionaries, and Mathew's parents have eaten here a few times, and we've used the table on those occasions. That's something, right?
The point is I'm just super glad my kids are not drug addicts despite my very obvious failure in this area.
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