In Defense Of Skipping Family Dinner
If it's not organic, it's not quality family time. It's mindless conformity.
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Once upon a time, Mrs. Ogre and I had children. When those children were old enough, we tried, for a little while, to have dinner at the dining room table. We did this because We Were Supposed To. That’s what families did, right? They ate dinner together and talked.
It was unbearable and unnatural. We lasted less than six months before stopping.
We moved the dining room table against the wall and that became Jordan’s space. He spent most of the day there, drawing, watching his tablet, and collecting his markers and crayons. Eventually, we got rid of the table and replaced it with a proper desk for him to use, an indestructible metal monstrosity with a wooden top from, probably, a 1950s office that will last him for the rest of his life. Jordan can be kind of rough on his furniture so this was perfect, if a pain in the ass to move (it’s soooooo goddamn heavy).
I already had a desk in the living room for work, and now Jordan had one in the dining room. Therefore, Anastasia wanted one, too. So we got her a little desk, also in the living room (she was maybe six or seven and didn’t need a lot of space), and she was very happy. We tried to set up a space for Mrs. Ogre but she demurred, not having any interest in a personal space in the apartment. Don’t ask me. I tried. Repeatedly.
So this went on for several years until we moved to Arlington. Despite the new apartment being significantly larger than the old, with a VERY spacious dining room/living room set up (to us, at least), we didn’t even consider getting a dining room table at all. This raised eyebrows among the in-laws, who had been less than thrilled we had gotten rid of our dining room table all those years ago. They assumed we would be getting one now and, well, no. No, we were not.
Instead, Jordan’s desk went in one corner by the balcony door (sunlight!) and where the dining room table would have been? Well, that’s where both my and Anastasia’s desks went, facing each other. My back was to the kitchen so I could work and cook at the same time, and Anastasia had a windowsill of her own (more sunlight!) which is now covered in plants and snow globes.
The kids eat at their desks, and the adults eat on the couch, usually watching TV. Occasionally, Anastasia will join us but usually she does not.
Sounds dreadful, doesn’t it? A family that doesn’t eat together? How will they ever bond? It’s a recipe for dysfunction!
Come…sit down and let your Uncle Ogre disabuse you of these silly notions.
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When I first became a stay-at-home parent, we needed to figure out where to put my desk. This was before I was working from home, so this was just my computer desk for gaming and going online. It occurred to me that if I put the desk in the bedroom, I would just…disappear. Meh. That wouldn’t do. Put the desk in the living room, though? Even if I’m playing a game, I’m still there, not locked away.
When Jordan got old enough to need a desk, we thought about putting it in his room but that presented the same problem. He would just disappear and we would never EVER see him. Because of his autism, Jordan does not interact with us a whole lot to begin with. Letting him disappear into his room sounded like a phenomenally bad idea.
When Anastasia was old enough to have homework, the question again was if we should put her desk in her room. Ehhhhhh… As teens, we had our desks in our rooms, and we spent a great deal of time with the door shut, completely avoiding the adults in our lives. That turned us into very healthy people. Honest!
So we kept Anastasia’s desk in the living room.
So now we have a 17 and 15-year-old. They do their homework in the living/dining room. They eat their meals (mostly) at their desks and they spend half of their day camped out, doing arts and crafts or just watching videos. They do spend time in their rooms with the door shut, but always come back out to their desks.
Why?
Because they don’t like to be alone and separated from the rest of the family. Jordan draws on his computer and announces, loudly, what he’s drawing and when he’s done so we can all give him a round of applause. He likes to show off what he’s creating, you see. And he can’t do that in his bedroom.
Anastasia listens to YouTube videos while crocheting or hot gluing a costume together or making Perler bead patterns. She asks a million history questions when doing her homework because I am a massive history nerd and give her a much more detailed explanation with a broader outlook than her textbook.1 I was less helpful with math (none at all), and only mildly helpful with science.
We would talk about current events or talk about school while watching TV (I do so love being able to pause literally anything I’m watching).
All of this without a dining room table or a nightly family dinner. All of it organic. And that’s the point. Something I’ve been unable to make the in-laws appreciate or understand.
Doing something because “it’s tradition” is meaningless unless everyone wants to do it. Doing something because “that’s the way we do things” is even worse because there’s no purpose to it other than conforming to someone’s notion of “How Things Should Be.”
We put in the time and effort to keep our kids in our lives, even as teens. We set up our home to avoid alienation and isolation. We adapted the space to our needs, not to what is “typical” or “expected.”
Does that mean we can’t have formal meals when we have guests over? Sure. A small price to pay to keep our kids from vanishing into their rooms for the entirety of their teen years. And it’s worked.
Jordan’s autism would easily allow him to hole up in his room and never come out. But he doesn’t. He wants to be at his desk and he wants to interact with us, which is not always easy for him.
Anastasia has an extremely positive relationship with her mother at an age when most teen girls and their mothers are at each other’s throats. I don’t know what that’s all about, but I’ve seen it enough times to know it’s “a thing” with mothers and daughters. My mother-in-law constantly tries to make Mrs. Ogre feel like a failure as a mother, but, honestly, that’s jealousy speaking, pure and simple. Haters gonna hate, right?
So does this mean you should throw your dining room table out of the window? No. Maybe family dinner works for you. Maybe your dining room table doesn’t get used for meals at all. Maybe you already sit in the living room and eat dinner together. Maybe you do something I haven’t even considered. There is no one right way. If there’s anything you take away from this article, let it be that. Do what works for you and yours and don’t worry about what anyone else has to say.
It’s none of their goddamn business.
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Anastasia took World History this year, which covered 4,000 years. She demanded to know why I knew every period in history she asked about. On different continents, no less! I told her that history is a story. The most important story there is, and I love stories.
I love this! You found a solution that works well for your family, and didn’t cave to pressure from alleged experts. Furniture does not a family make.
I know you wouldn't call yourself a philosopher, but your life philosophy is wonderful. Every family has its own unique way of doing things, and the ones that work are the correct ones for that family. I was an only child, and dinner was only with my parents. My mother didn't speak much, but my father taught me about the world by relating stories from his past. Granted, most of our conversations were heavy on politics and history, but they provided a foundation for me to try to understand the world. As a loner, I have always valued silence, so large family gatherings are a horrible experience for me. On a few occasions, at these gatherings, I met people who were interesting and from whom I wanted to learn different ideas. Of course, I was reprimanded for not participating in the general conversation, which held no interest for me. I am retired now, so I am spared the time-wasting experiences of large gatherings. It sounds as though you have a wonderful family life with no Mad Uncle to spoil the evening meal.