04 Jun Why Family Mealtimes Bring Out the Sayings We Swore We’d Never Use
Family dinners with young children can be messy, noisy and exhausting. Rebecca James finds herself reaching for an old family saying — and realising she may be turning into her grandfather after all.
The nightly chaos of feeding children
“I don’t like this!” Jimmy makes a face of disgust and pushes his bowl so that it slides across the table, almost tipping off the other side. “No, Jimmy,” I say in my best authoritative voice, placing the bowl firmly back in front of him. “Eat it up. Or there’ll be no treat afterwards. No yoghurt!”
“Dinnertime, boys!” I call to the others for the 57th time. “Now!” The twins appear, running, breathless, and they crash to the table all limbs and noise and restless energy. “Yuck.” Jack peers into his bowl. “Yuck.” Oscar echoes him.
Charlie arrives. He’s walking slowly, clearly not looking forward to the nightly torture that is dinner. But he is an eldest child through and through, and always tries his best to be good. “Thank you,” he says. But there’s a resigned look of miserable determination on his face. He’ll force himself through this meal, even if the vegetables get stuck in his throat and the texture makes him gag. He’ll do his best, even if we have to sit here for the next hour-and-a-half waiting…
“Can I be excused?” Jack asks. “Why? You haven’t even started! You just sat down.” “I need to go to the toilet.” He is bouncing. Clearly it is urgent. Bowels and bladders can wait for hours when the kids are playing and having fun, but at dinner, faced with a bowlful of wholesome boringness, the need to ‘go’ becomes imperative. “Okay. Off you go.”
When dinner becomes a test of parental patience
To get through the next 40 minutes with home and sanity intact requires extreme parental vigilance and unwavering concentration. So many different skills are required, in fact, that it really is a feat of extraordinary multi-tasking brilliance. I coerce and cajole, “Yum, yum, this is good, isn’t it? These vegies will make you strong. Look, Jack, I can see your muscles growing as I speak!” I also have to blow, “Ouch, hot!”; to encourage, “Good boy! Nearly done!”; to lift spoons to mouths; to refill glasses of water; and cut and chop and wipe.
I’ve tried reading while they have dinner; I’ve tried leaving them to their own devices. But it didn’t take me long to realise that when left unsupervised, they simply do not eat. More food ends up on the floor, in their hair, smeared across the windows and walls, and on their clothing than in their mouths.
The tempting promise of an easy takeaway
Today, for just a moment, I forget myself and start dreaming, my fingers idly caressing a glossy flyer, an advertisement for pizza. ‘Everyone fed for less than 20 dollars,’ I think. ‘No mess, no fuss; happy, satisfied children. Yes! Friday night – pizza! Can’t wait!’
When an old family saying slips out
I’m jolted back to reality by the hysterical laughter of the children. Jimmy’s cup of water is overflowing; vegetables swim in the now murky liquid. His older brothers are doubled over, clutching their stomachs. I remove the cup and take it to the sink. And suddenly the words of my grandfather, from 30 years past, are on my lips: “Mealtime’s a mealtime,” I say, cross and stern, “and playtime’s a playtime.” And as I say it, I think of my grandfather, of the way he used to waltz with me and my sisters to funny old music, of his well-stocked bar that never saw an actual cocktail made, of the long, long hair that grew from his ears and his nose.
The boys are silent for a minute, digesting my words, intimidated momentarily by the tone of my voice. “Mealtime’s a mealtime?” Jack snorts. “And playtime’s a playtime? That’s a funny one.” Again they are laughing, and repeating the silly phrases over and over: “Mealtime’s a mealtime and playtime’s a playtime…”
Turning into the grown-ups we remember
And then I’m laughing too. Not so much at the words, but at myself – for feeling worn out and old, for saying exactly what my grandfather used to say to my sisters and me. We used to find it absurd and laugh and laugh the way my kids are laughing now.
Later, as I’m brushing my teeth in preparation for bed, I lean close to the mirror, and tilt my head and check my nostrils for hair…
Illustration by Angela Pellatt.
