What happens at the table....

I’m trying to just soak it in, but, like anything, there are days when I do and days when I just miss the beauty because I’m over taken by the chaos.
Baysil doesn’t like what is served at dinnertime. She was an adventurous eater when she was learning. Some of that, I’m sure, was due to the fact that she was anxious to be on solid foods. She was teething at birth, had teeth and sat up at 3 months old, crawled at 5 months and was walking fluidly at 10! Eating solids was one of those things (and there was/is a long list) her older bros could do and she was determined to do it to. So, I could get away with lentils and asparagus…anything really…as long as she was eating BIG GIRL food.
Those days are gone. She now looks at her food for less than a second and pushes it away and says, in a dramatic whiney voice that’s been perfected, “I don’t like this….” And then I say my rehearsed response which the entire family could mouth mockingly with me, “But you haven’t even tried it yet. You need to at least try one bite because you might like it.” And then she says “No.” and we go back and forth like this until finally she resolves to skipping this meal and holding out hope that there will be an offering of a snack later….like a banana or a chunk of cheese to keep her through the nite. If not, it doesn’t matter…she’d rather hold to her convictions of knowing what she does and doesn’t likes without so much as a sniff or a lick.
During this time the boys are wrestling themselves to their seats after they’ve come crashing into the dining room which only happens after a small bathroom water fight which they innocently refer to as: “washing their hands.” They’re basically superheroes and spend a few hours each day scaling trees and soaring off jungle gym platforms and flying high on the swings…so, their appetite is a bit more ferocious than lil’ sister’s. This helps them at least take a few bites of whatever it is we’re having. I’d say it’s about 50/50 with the twins and 65/35 with justice as far as not liking/liking it goes. And by “liking” it I mean “they eat it”. But, I know that’s normal.
At the same time I begin my inner-wrestling match of trying not to take it personally. I mean, I work hard to stay within our grocery budget each week and so each meal is carefully calculated and strategically planned with hopes of strengthening and pleasing this little audience. We are also homeschooling our 4 kids, Jason works part-time and we co-direct a full time ministry here in Houston (www.missionyear.org). So, fitting in time to cook during the day is definitely an effort. When it all gets done on time and we finally have a few minutes to savor the nourishment of body and soul together as we gather around the table, I feel attacked by the onslaught of criticism coming from my kids even if it’s all typical and proving them to be on track developmentally.
Don’t get me wrong, I receive a TON of gratitude and appreciation from the adults in the house. This is the most convicting part about it all, actually. I would easily bet money that I hear “thank you” more than anyone else on the planet who cooks dinner on a weeknite. Seriously. Plus, if I don’t hear it immediately, there are notes sprawled on the wipe board in our shared kitchen with things like “DELICIOUS! THANK YOU FOR A YUMMY MEAL! MAKE THIS RECIPE A STAPLE! YOU’RE AN ITALIAN COOKING GODDESS.”…you know, the usual. To make wallowing even worse, on the nights that the kids are a fans…the praise is magnified and repetitive in typical little kid form.
So, why do I find it so hard to just accept that cooking for young kids isn’t an easy win? It’s probably as simple as admitting to being self-centered. Did I prepare the food to receive praise or for serving others? Did the actual process of slicing through locally grown organic produce penetrate my soul and remind me of His delectable provision and creative care of me and my family? Sometimes I really do connect those pieces. Sometimes I find myself washing a GINORMOUS head of bok choy in our kitchen sink in awe that it all began with a seed. The Lord’s magic grips me for a fleeting moment before I hear : “I need to go poop mommy” or “We were playing freeze tag and he’s supposed to be frozen but he keeps running around anyway.”
What does it look like to prepare food for my beautiful family with a heart of service and thanksgiving? I think it looks like pushing past the announcements of who isn’t interested in dinner tonite and the regurgitating that sometimes follows that hard-earned, compliant, first-bite. .. and asking “ What was the best part of your day?” and then sharing about mine. It looks like taking the time that we’re all sitting there together to really thank someone for what they meant to me that day. There is always a reason to thank each of them, but I don’t always do it….and especially not at dinner. Maybe if I stopped making it about me and said, “Thank you”….
Thank you Baysil for running up to me when I was leaving for a meeting today and cupping my face in your hands, putting your nose to mine and saying “I love you mommy, when you come back we’ll snuggle, ok?” I could never describe the warmth I felt in that mini-moment. You seem as tough as iron, but you have this immeasurable, resilient and energetic love that inspires me.
Thank you Kiah for flashing me a million-dollar, dimple smile in the van today when I was goofily singing along to Mr. Steve trying to get a grouchy sibling of yours to laugh. It wasn’t working and I was about to put that effort to rest, when I looked in the rearview and locked my eyes with your beautiful brown ones. Your generous and freely appearing smile melts my heart. Everytime.
Thank you Boaz for being so quick to volunteer to help me today. You bounced off your chair in the middle of coloring a masterpiece and ran to rescue your lil’ sister who was struggling to drag the laundry basket to the livingroom in order to be folded. My hands were full, she was asking for help and you rose to the occasion with joy. What an amazing man you’re becoming.
Thank you Justice for spontaneous hugs that point to the miracle that has been done in your life. I was unloading the silverware and in the middle of one of the most mundane moments of my day you skipped into the kitchen, wrapped your arms around my waist and squeezed for no reason at all. In and of itself, that’s beautiful. When that picture collides with the way I know it all began for you, I am dumbfounded at your acceptance of God’s lavish love and healing in your heart.
Jason Scott. There comes a point in every day, it seems, that I’m on the verge of “losing it” due to the never-ending responsibilities that is our life. You are never shaken by that. Your strength, and hugs, and listening ear feel so much like Jesus’ touch in my day. We were running late for our doctor’s appointment for Boaz and there were 50 things left to do (it did feel like that many, didn’t it?) before we could require that everyone got buckled and strapped in the van. I was lashing out in my irritation with the process and how it lacked finesse (as if we ever seamlessly exit the house for anything these days?!).
You didn’t retaliate; you just kept working towards the goal with a graceful and gentle love that changes me. Thank you. Thank you.
I love our meals together, even if it it looks more like musical chairs and a taste test than a traditional Cleaver family dinnertime. I love the chaos and the noise and the time we share in one small space at one full table interacting. I know these days are fleeting and that it won’t last forever. I want to soak it in. I want to gather around the table with each of you. What a gift it is…may I always be aware of it….even if you skip eating. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.