Dine
Discussion in the staff lounge. Woman who is trying to feed her kids something other than cereal - all they want. Another who talked about her family rule that everyone ate what was put in front of them, or went hungry. Another whose mother cooked a hot breakfast every morning. And I bit my tongue on my own family meal dynamics, since I immediately flashed on my father's shouting and so many meals with me in tears and my stomach in a knot. How critical he was of the food. How he took that enforced hour to criticize and belittle anything on his tiny mind.
Dinner rules. Well, I suppose with children, it's the place to learn how to eat around people. Close your mouth when you chew. Learn how to share, pass a plate, use a fork and knife. Culture, politeness, all that. Not trivial, really. Although formal dining has always been an upper-class pursuit, middle class aping, largely fallen into desuetude. I remember setting the table, which side the fork went on seemed such a fraught matter. Giving the bad fork to my father a matter of quiet pride.
I don't quite know when my parents decided to always eat in the living room on tray tables in front of the television, but I'm very grateful. Meals calmed right the fuck down. Can't say I enjoyed eating to "George Perot Presents", a local show, large elderly gentleman who chatted with rather dull men who showed their cheesy travelogs while narrating and trying to be funny. Soporific, but not upsetting in any way. Conducive to digestion. My mother and I, or just I would wash, dry and put away dishes after. Not my favorite task, but not onerous really.
Dinners with extended family meant sitting at the table, taking only what I thought I could eat - then eating all I took, staying at the table either until everyone was done, or I had asked for and received permission to get down off my perch and leave the table. I was asked to try new foods, but it was never that much of an issue. I had to drink a full glass of milk with every meal, at all times. This was the worst rule of all, since I always hated milk.
D and I often sit on the sofa with our dinner, watch something, snuggle in. Sometimes here, we sit at the table, with plates and utensils and beverages. I did up Christmas Brunch pretty well, although without most of the dishes and none of the glasses matching. But knowing how to do it could be learned in a few minutes as an adult. I don't really think children need that level of protocol ingrained into them. If it's to let the parents eat with all children in sight, that makes sense, but what's wrong with presenting it as such?
Or are rules around eating so culture-bound and emotional and unexamined that parents often don't even think about how they function?
I'm sure my childhood gut issues are closely related to my father's dinnertime emotional abuse, as well as lack of green vegetables (or fiber of any kind) and the mandatory lactose.
I'll go with the lack of rules, here, together. Moby wants to sniff what we eat, delicately, then turns away as if to say "that's not food." But he's welcome to decide for himself.
Dinner rules. Well, I suppose with children, it's the place to learn how to eat around people. Close your mouth when you chew. Learn how to share, pass a plate, use a fork and knife. Culture, politeness, all that. Not trivial, really. Although formal dining has always been an upper-class pursuit, middle class aping, largely fallen into desuetude. I remember setting the table, which side the fork went on seemed such a fraught matter. Giving the bad fork to my father a matter of quiet pride.
I don't quite know when my parents decided to always eat in the living room on tray tables in front of the television, but I'm very grateful. Meals calmed right the fuck down. Can't say I enjoyed eating to "George Perot Presents", a local show, large elderly gentleman who chatted with rather dull men who showed their cheesy travelogs while narrating and trying to be funny. Soporific, but not upsetting in any way. Conducive to digestion. My mother and I, or just I would wash, dry and put away dishes after. Not my favorite task, but not onerous really.
Dinners with extended family meant sitting at the table, taking only what I thought I could eat - then eating all I took, staying at the table either until everyone was done, or I had asked for and received permission to get down off my perch and leave the table. I was asked to try new foods, but it was never that much of an issue. I had to drink a full glass of milk with every meal, at all times. This was the worst rule of all, since I always hated milk.
D and I often sit on the sofa with our dinner, watch something, snuggle in. Sometimes here, we sit at the table, with plates and utensils and beverages. I did up Christmas Brunch pretty well, although without most of the dishes and none of the glasses matching. But knowing how to do it could be learned in a few minutes as an adult. I don't really think children need that level of protocol ingrained into them. If it's to let the parents eat with all children in sight, that makes sense, but what's wrong with presenting it as such?
Or are rules around eating so culture-bound and emotional and unexamined that parents often don't even think about how they function?
I'm sure my childhood gut issues are closely related to my father's dinnertime emotional abuse, as well as lack of green vegetables (or fiber of any kind) and the mandatory lactose.
I'll go with the lack of rules, here, together. Moby wants to sniff what we eat, delicately, then turns away as if to say "that's not food." But he's welcome to decide for himself.
Posted by Zhoen on Friday, January 18, 2013
7 comments:
interesting and meditative post, made me revisit my own food rules. i don't like eating anywhere other than at the dining table, and i hate waste. food, to me, is a huge part of nurturing and sharing and socialising, so when people come to my home just having eaten, it feels like a personal insult - something i need to work to get over. after all, not all homes feed and one can hardly expect everyone to show up with empty bellies when it's a 50/50 chance of getting a scrap of something to eat at a friend's house.
still, feeding is a huge thing for us. our main form of entertaining is dinner parties and i adore taking the whole day to set the table, prepare the dishes, put out the linen napkins and all the rest. but the main event is always the food and the conversation.
i am lucky in that my family always ate well and nothing was ever forced. i hear so many sad sad stories... i'm glad you have found your comfort zone and a happy place to be.
(O)
In my somewhat Edwardian upbringing table manners were of utmost importance, so that mealtimes were often accompanied by nagging, rapped knuckles, and considerable boredom.
When our sons were young they were allowed to leave the dining table before the end of the meal if they could clamber under it....it was a huge pine table which kept them pinned against a wall. They managed this until they were both well over six feet tall - a good bit of athleticism.
Challenges accepted! Love it.
As parents we hear time and again how having the family eat meals together helps to raise well adjusted children into reasonable and responsible adults.
We're not too strict about the rigours and protocols of mealtimes, but we do insist on at least a modicum of good behaviour.
Phil,
Go with RR's method. Also, as long as you are not making your children cry and cringe at meals, I'm sure you are doing fine.
We mostly do breakfast and dinner at the table for digestion's sake, like to eat a lunchtime sandwich in front of the telly news. Molly too sniffs our food to see what we've got when we eat on our laps. She'd love to eat it but would never take from our plates.
Home was quite relaxed, I always quite liked seeing a nicely laid table, but we ate in front of telly too, especially Friday nights for 'The Virginian'. I liked it, it was in a way more sociable and family centred than the dining table. There was a funny set of nesting tables which we used to lay properly with mats and cutlery, and had to squeeze our legs under from armchairs and sofa, but in fact they were easier to manage than a tray. Tray eating is a bit precarious.
When I first went to school, not yet five, I automatically picked up my spoon to eat, never having been trained with a knife and fork. Dinner ladies nagged and bullied me about it, all the other kids seemed to be able to do it. Later, I was sloppy about turning my fork the right way up when using knife and fork, no one nagged me at home, but when I went to secondary school and other people seemed to have the hang of it it became a challenge to master it. I still kind of like fork-only food, though.
As a primary teacher I've been in schools where parents openly say they don't expect to have to impart basic self-feeding skills to their kids, that's the school's job.
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