Back in the very dark ages, I was a mildly rebellious 16-year old and I was also a very involved 16-year old. (You would’ve been rebellious, too, if your mom made you wear that prarie outfit for the family photo at Busch Gardens!) At any rate, I played volleyball and basketball, I ran track, and I helped out on all sorts of committees. Did my friends join? I probably did, too. (Keyettes, anyone?) I suppose there was some foreshadowing there, about finding margin and achieving balance, but I didn’t pay much attention to those back then, either. My brother was also an involved athlete, my dad was often flying helicopters at all hours, and my mom’s calendar was chock-full of Family Readiness activities. (If Family Readiness is a foreign term for you, think “support group for military families,” and you’ll be close enough.)
That said, it was our common practice to sit down and eat dinner together. Sometimes it was 5:00, sometimes 8:00, depending on the night. Occasionally, the rest of the family would eat while my brother or I were at practice, and when the offending child returned home, my mom would re-heat our meal and sit down and talk to us while we ate.
Although my strong independent streak started long before 16, even I knew that eating together was a good thing. We’d often share the meal with my very dear friend, C. Ann, who would forgo many dinners alone at her own table to join the banter around ours. It’s funny, this sort of intangible thing from childhood. When she turned 16, C. Ann’s gift was a brand-new Acura. I think I got a necklace. We didn’t talk about it much, but I’m pretty sure she would’ve traded her sweet new ride for a year of family time around her own table.
As a parent, I’ve been thoughtful about how to structure our evenings so we can eat together as many nights as possible. Like my mom, if one child is missing because of a sports practice, I try to sit down with him when he gets home and finally eats his dinner. Most nights, though, we manage to pull it off—earlier or later than others, perhaps—but together.
“Compared to teens who have frequent family dinners (five to seven per week), those who have infrequent family dinners (fewer than three per week) are:
twice as likely to use tobacco or marijuana; and
more than one and a half times likelier to use alcohol.”
Furthermore, if you thought texting at the table was just poor form, think again! If manners weren’t reason enough, here’s another finding from the same study that provides an awfully convincing argument for docking those phones and Game Boys before the meal:
“Teens who have infrequent dinners are likelier to say people at the table are talking or texting on cell phones or using other devices at the table such as Blackberries, laptops or Game Boys. Teens in households where dinners are infrequent and such distractions are present at the table are:
three times likelier to use marijuana and tobacco; and
two and a half times likelier to use alcohol.”
Well, what do you know? My mom was ahead of her time. And I thought it was just about the memories.
