When Banks turned one I decided that I wanted to start doing dinners together as a family. Usually, Banks eats at 6:00 and with Matt and I liking to eat later, we would put him down and then eat after he went to bed. It worked perfectly...why in the world I wanted to complicate that I'll never know. Soooo, we tried it. And it was miserable. I couldn't get dinner together in time, he wouldn't eat what we were eating, he was having to go to bed later, etc and it just didn't work. After about a week of that I let it go and we went back to our old ways. Now here we are six months later and we're trying it again. And guess what? It's a disaster.
I'm dead set on eating as a family because I feel like it's the "right" thing to do. We can pray together, talk about our days, maybe do a little devotional on down the road, and just set the tone for sitting and staying at the table. Sounds Utopian, right? Well, here's how it actually goes down.
The minute my big toe steps into the kitchen to start cooking Banks begins chanting "pate" (plate) and "nin-ah" (dinner). This lasts the duration. He also wedges himself between me and the cabinets and uses his head to push my legs back. I move, he moves. He enjoys bringing truck loads of toys and insisting "up" for each of them so that by the end of my cooking the little counter space I have is now lined with "marmers" (farmers), blocks, balls, and so forth. When he's not terrorizing me, he is trying to climb into his high chair which usually requires a rescue of some sort. Don't forget about the incessant chanting. Once I am finally able to finish cooking we get the table set and say our blessing. I will say it is precious to see him make his prayer hands and yell "amen" at the end of the prayer. Although he did yell amen at the end of my singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star last night...maybe it was a rather motivating rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle.
Anyway, plates are on the table. Matt and I are struggling to get a word in among making sure Banks doesn't feed his food to Buford, getting him more "gook" (milk), crackers, and cleaning his hands. He's finished by the time I've taken three bites of my food. So, we let him down while we finish and he will play independently for about .3 seconds and then he's bringing toys into the dining room, wanting to play "hut, hut" (football), or whatever else might suit his fancy. Last night I had terrible indigestion because I was trying to scarf my food down before a ball got launched into my salad. Needless to say, it's just not turning out how I'd imagined.
Now, if you'll recall, I'm attempting to simplify. Sounds like it, doesn't it??? So, I've decided yet again to postpone the family dinner. Maybe at two we can make it work. For now, I'd like to be able to enjoy my food, for Matt and I to be able to talk, and for Banks to be asleep while all that happens. So there. Does that make me a terrible mom? I mean, I just don't get how other people make family dinners work. I must really be missing something. Maybe one day we'll obtain the allusive family dinner. Til then, it's lights out for Banks, enjoyable cooking for me, and a peaceful dinner for the grown-ups. Sounds pretty simple.