Doing Dinner: Confessions Of A Radical Mother
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?