Doing Dinner: Confessions Of A Radical Mother
by: Maya Talisman Frost
I love slow living. It's peaceful, meaningful
and downright radical in a go-go world.
According to a recent article in (appropriately enough)Time magazine,
groups of harried parents across the USA are joining a wave of slow living
advocates by doing something really revolutionary--having one sit-down dinner
at home with their kids each week.
I don't know whether to applaud or cry.
The idea that parents are willing to undertake the
Herculean task of rearranging their schedules to fit in a single dinner at
home is laudable. The fact that it requires superhuman effort is terribly
sad.
How did we get here?
The article states that back in the 1980s, sociologists decided that providing
structured activities for kids would prevent juvenile delinquency. In addition,
education experts suggested that American children needed to study harder
to compete academically in the global market.
At the same time, American business leaders looked around and discovered they
were losing their edge. They bumped up hours and production rates in an effort
to keep ahead of burgeoning Asian countries. This new competitiveness spilled
over into the home, where mothers fresh from the work force took the corporate
ideal of high productivity to the playgrounds.
Yikes.
I spent most of the eighties living and working in Asia. I taught English
in Japan for five years, so I'm all too familiar with the "education
mama" syndrome. What's interesting is that the American mamas have taken
that same emphasis on competition and achievement and focused on sports or
other activities. Although we don't have to suffer the unfortunate consequences
of despondent students going through the examination hell of the Japanese
system, we have burned out 15-year-olds having knee surgery for ten years'
worth of soccer injuries, and families who can't remember their last no-TV,
no-phone, real food meal at home.
I think that somewhere between a manic preoccupation with education and a
rabid adherence to frenzied activity schedules is a happy medium.
It's called dinner.
People in Europe or Latin America are horrified to hear of families in the
U.S. gulping dinner in their cars on a daily basis. It's appalling that there
are actually campaigns to re-introduce the concept of sitting down to eat.
In cultures where families gather for meals every afternoon and again late
in the evening, they view this obsession with achievement as baffling, alarming
and pitiful.
And they're right.
The truth is that it's pretty hard to lose control
of your family's activities if you make dinner a priority most nights.
It's simply not possible to attend multiple practices each night if you're
expected at the dinner table from 6:30-7:30.
When I tell people that I have four teenage daughters (ages 13, 14, 16 and
17), they look at me with a mixture of horror and pity. Life must be tough
at your house, they say. You must live in your car, they tell me.
Um--no.
My idea of multi-tasking is breathing, talking, and hiking in the woods--all
at the same time. My family eats a relaxing dinner together at home--by candlelight!--at
least five nights a week. It's the best part of the day.
Don't get me wrong. Sports are great for kids. So is drama. And music. And
debate.
But dinner matters, too. I figure that my kids aren't going to be living with
us forever, and while they're here, it's a lot more important to have dinner
together than it is to have the girls sign up for every sport and activity
on earth.
What they lack in basket-shooting ability, they've gained in conversation
skills, thoughtfulness, and an appreciation for family and shared meals.
They don't eat yogurt from a tube while riding in a van, then race home to
study.
Here's a typical scene at our house: four
girls sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace, doing homework or reading.
This is after we've had an enjoyable dinner and they've cleaned up the kitchen.
It makes me feel terribly guilty. Shouldn't I be exhausted and irritable,
battered by constant demands for rides and juice packs?
It's not that my kids don't do anything. They're into all kinds of activities--drama,
music, dance, volunteer work, and even jobs. Two are gearing up for lacrosse,
one is in the midst of interviews for a year-long exchange program, while
the oldest is in her senior year and doing the college application dance.
It's a busy time.
And yet, they still eat a real dinner at home most nights.
All of us--singles, married couples, young families and empty nesters--can
benefit from the dinner ritual. By adopting and continuing the tradition of
shared meals and conversation, we are emphasizing the importance of thinking
and sharing ideas. If we want our culture to value thinking, we've got to
start by offering a tribute to it on a daily basis.
Okay, so my kids may never get athletic scholarships. They may never meet
a single university athletic director before choosing which college to attend.
They won't be the next Olympic gymnast or ice skater, and they're not likely
to be conducting symphonies by the time they're 25.
They'll have to settle for being happy, smart, kind, aware, motivated, and
full of enthusiasm for the world and their place in it. Their father and I
will just have to be satisfied with lasting memories of slow life with our
cherished children, and our daughters will strive only to duplicate this same
lifestyle for their own families someday.
Radical, isn't it?