thirty days with a grateful heart. day four.

day four.  cloth napkins.

When I still lived at home, family dinner was a non-negotiable.  At least five days a week, my family gathered around the kitchen table to something my momma home cooked.  We ate and we caught up.  Looking back, I realize now that it wasn't the meal that was the important piece - it was the time together.  It was generally the only time the five of us were together, that we had a chance to catch up, to talk about our days, to reconnect - as a family.

Johnny's family, being Italian and all, was the very much the same but with probably a little better food because trust me, his mom can really cook.  When we first were married, we lived with Johnny's parents for about six months while our home was being completed and never fail, at least five nights a week,  the four of us would sit down to Jeri's cooking and enjoy dinnertime together.  We'd eat, there'd be wine, we'd talk and laugh.  But there was always one caveat to the meal - Papa had to have cloth napkins.

New bride that I was, I asked my mother-in-law one day what she really thought of that.  Whether it was a pain, having to wash the napkins every single day and she said something along the lines of, no -  you get used to it, and my husband likes it - so I do it for him.

I liked that.  It somehow made dinner time, not just a meal, but something special, something to be looked forward to.  An event.  And so, as we had children and as we implemented the tradition of family dinner in our own home, we too used cloth napkins. 

As the littles got older, and more active in sports and all the myriad of things that kids do these days, finding that time to sit down together, to share a meal, to talk, got more and more difficult.  But we continued, whenever we could find a free evening, because both Johnny and I feel it is important.

Last weekend, after being out with his friends in the evening, Little J brought a few back to the house.  One of the young girls was hungry.  I offered to make her something eat and after a few, no, really, its ok, i'm fines, we settled on grilled cheese and I set about making her a few.

As she sat at the kitchen table and devoured her sandwich, I cleaned up and eavesdropped a bit on the conversation between her and her friend.

This is really good, my mom doesn't make anything that isn't out of a box.
My mom hasn't cooked since I was in the fourth grade.
We always eat off paper plates with paper towels.
We all eat in front of the tv at different, never at the table.
I don't think my mom even likes cooking for us.

I could not believe it, and to be honest, it made me both a little sad and a whole lot grateful.  Sad for the sweet girls sitting at my counter who were so crazy appreciative of a simple grilled cheese - well and the banana bread which is to die for, imho - and incredibly grateful that Johnny and I have always made family dinner a priority. 

We have so little time to reconnect with our growing and busy kids these days.  In the blink of an eye, they'll be in college, then off to create lives of their own.  A meal.  Once a day.  How difficult can that be?  What greater reward for a parent could there possibly be than a little time, with your littles?

My greatest hope is that when my littles do go, when they are off in the world with homes and spouses and littles of their own, that they too will see how special it is, how important, really, to sit down, enjoy a nice dinner, to talk and laugh and catch up with each other...  all with cloth napkins, of course.

xoxo,
momo