This is what dinnertime looks like in our household: A nutritious vegetable lasagna is baking in the oven, yet my two children are already starving, even though it’s only 3:30 PM (and yes, I provided snacks just an hour ago to avoid this very situation).
My eldest child, Lucas, is at the table engrossed in a comic book, requesting pasta or bread—essentially anything bland. Meanwhile, my younger one, Max, is clamoring for Goldfish crackers or any other salty snack. Unable to endure another round of their complaints, I hand Lucas a small bowl of plain leftover spaghetti and pour Max a handful of Goldfish.
As I’m chopping bell peppers for a salad, Max’s eyes widen at the sight of the veggies, and he demands a bowl right away. I can’t refuse a budding vegetable lover, so I give him half of the pepper. All this food is consumed on the floor, as I set down his bowls like I’m feeding a puppy. He tugs at my sleeve, looking up at me with eager eyes.
As we approach 4 PM—our unofficial “dinnertime”—my husband, Tom, walks in, also hungry. The lasagna is finally ready, but unsurprisingly, Lucas refuses to eat it. However, he is willing to down a smoothie made from banana, peanut butter, almond milk, and frozen spinach. Not one to deny a child their greens, I whip up the smoothie.
Now it’s officially dinnertime, but neither child seems hungry anymore. I serve Tom a plate of lasagna and begin the cleanup. Naturally, Max spots the lasagna and wants some—only from Daddy’s plate. Lucas calls from the den for another bowl of pasta and a smoothie refill. The only silver lining is his polite “please” and “thank you, Mom!”
At no point has even two of us sat together at the table, nor has anyone eaten simultaneously. I’ve prepared at least four different dishes, and an hour after “dinner” begins, I lock myself in the den to enjoy a plate of lasagna (microwaved, of course).
This may sound chaotic and stressful—far from the ideal family meal time I envisioned before having kids. I had anticipated cooking together, sitting down as a family, perhaps sharing a blessing, and enjoying laughter and conversation. I dreamed of structured family time at the dinner table.
Yet, it never unfolded that way. Maybe it will when the kids are older, but for now, dinnertime is often like this—and I’m perfectly fine with that.
First and foremost, while I want my children to grasp the importance of routines, I also believe in the value of them listening to their bodies. Meal schedules can be helpful, but in a world plagued by overeating and obesity, I prefer to encourage my kids to eat when they’re hungry and stop when they’re full. I recognize that children often require smaller, more frequent meals than adults, as their little bellies are about the size of their tiny fists.
I also empathize with their pickiness, as I’ve always been particular about my own food choices. Why should I expect them to eat something unappealing? My focus is on overall nutrition throughout the day rather than on one single meal. If my kids manage to consume greens a few times a week, I consider that a win. They may not touch protein during “mealtimes,” but later, they might devour ten chicken nuggets or a giant bowl of nuts. I try to evaluate their nutritional intake over the entire day or even the week.
Of course, this flexible meal schedule can be overwhelming for me, as I am the one preparing and organizing all their meals. I used to complain about it frequently, and I still do at times. However, I’ve recognized that part of my frustration stems from comparing our meals to an idealized version of how family dinners should be.
Kids are unpredictable, and this chaotic phase is temporary. In reality, I don’t know any family that has perfect mealtimes. My approach may seem disorganized, but like many aspects of parenting, feeding kids can be anything but simple.
As my children grow older, there are more moments where we can gather around the table and eat together. My husband and I often exchange incredulous smiles, realizing these moments are rare but cherished. I know that soon, these chaotic dinners will be memories I long for—like the evenings I fed my little ones five different meals at staggered times, or the way they would enthusiastically shovel spaghetti into their mouths. I already miss those moments.
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Summary: Family dinners in my home look nothing like the idealized version I once imagined. With picky eaters and varying appetites, our mealtime is often chaotic yet fulfilling. I believe in allowing my children to listen to their hunger cues and focus on overall nutrition rather than adhering to strict schedules. As they grow, I cherish the moments we do gather together, and I know I’ll miss the wild, wonderful chaos of their little ones’ mealtimes.