Do you support the idea of reviving the dying tradition of the family dinner? Do you believe in the importance of establishing routine and creating meaningful traditions? Do you agree that manners matter and parents should make an effort to establish healthy eating habits? I do too. I really do! So why do I sometimes give my kids hot dogs in the bathtub for dinner?

I haven’t always been able to openly admit to my meals in the tub or that once I gave my kids popcorn and ice cream to eat and called it “dinner”. I used to walk under a self imposed cloud of parental shame imagining that every other family was somehow able to live up to a traditional image of the family dinner, and that they did it every night! Until one night it happened – I broke. Motivated by guilt after hearing the latest report on the rise of childhood obesity and fall of the family unit, I innocently set a goal of having a happy, healthy family dinner.

I started to prepare a well-balanced meal with the expectation that my family would eat every last bite, with gratitude in their hearts and a big “thank you” on their freshly wiped lips. As I proceeded, I realized the four basic food groups I grew up with weren’t enough. Society has pressured me into concocting a kid-friendly meal with the right carbohydrate to protein ratio.

Next I started to look for candles to adorn the table, aspiring to create an environment that would be relaxing, with the illusion that it would stimulate intimate conversation. All of this would make for a memorable experience that would strengthen the bond of our family unit, not to mention make me feel like a really good Mom.

I had all my good intentions in place. We were going to have a real “everyone-sit-down-at-the-table-eat-everything-on-your-plate-and-talk-about-your-day” type of dinner. I had done my part; I planned, I prepared, I even used coupons. I was feeling pretty good about myself. “Dinner is ready”, I proudly announced. “Wash up”, I casually added, as if it were a regularly enforced personal hygiene habit of our family.

Then, reality set in. Once again I forgot that the world does not revolve around my expectations, no matter how noble they may be. Scott, my nine-year-old son, had his own expectation for the evening and it was in direct conflict with mine. He was expecting to get one of the Mario brothers to level ten in the electronic game he had been playing for the last hour and seventeen minutes while I was occupied with making dinner to pacifying my parental guilt. Needless to say, he had a strong negative reaction to me asking him to turn off the game and come to dinner. I admit it, I just couldn’t relate! I didn’t value his level nine accomplishment and I didn’t respect his ambition to reach level ten and “beat the game”. I had a greater good in mind – dinner was ready!

Next, raging hormones overtook my teenage daughter producing yet another mood swing.  I found Justine standing in front of her bedroom mirror, her face covered with three different beauty products, all of them promising to get rid of the zit in the middle of her forehead, thus restoring her to acceptable teenage status. At my reasonable reminder to wash up for dinner, she flung herself on the bed in her traditional melodramatic style.  Through the muffled voice of a heartbroken teen crying in her pillow, I heard something about a boy named Henry (or maybe it was Harry), I couldn’t hear. I wasn’t really listening. I confess, my aging skin is too dry to drudge up sympathy for the traumas of blemishes and I was too busy to notice an opportunity for quality mother-daughter time. I had a well thought out relationship building experience all prepared to take place in the dining room, not the bedroom.

Then I heard the pleading voice of seven-year-old Ravel coming from the family room, “Mommy, NOW will you help me?” I join her in a room with scraps of material, needles and thread all over the floor. I was sure she had intentionally dumped the sewing basket as part of the evil conspiracy to thwart my efforts to have a family dinner so I could feel like good Mom. At this point I was beyond the ability see, let alone admit, my contribution to the situation by forgetting my promise of, “I’ll be there in just a minute and teach you how to sew a pillow for your Barbie.” I was incapable of comprehending that gravity played a part in the heavy sewing basket dropping to the floor.

They were all against me! They didn’t appreciate what I was trying to do for them, those selfish, ungrateful kids! I stood in the middle of the living room and said, “I told you all to wash up for dinner. DO IT NOW!” You can bet I was not using my “inner voice” either. But I didn’t stop there… “I have been working really hard and you are all going to sit down and enjoy this nice family dinner!” I continued, bordering on out-of-control.

As I gritted my teeth, my bulging eyes saw fear, not respect, in my children’s faces. My tearful shouting was stopped when my littlest one, Arianna, touched the small of my back. What did she want? Did she spill something too? “Mommy, I think I should tell you a joke and then pray for you. Then I could help you not be so sad and God could help you not be so mad.” Everyone was silent. I think they were afraid I was going to explode. I fell to my knees. I looked deep into the wise eyes of my preschooler, “Would you please? I think that is just what I need.” I listened to her tell a knock-knock joke. It was the kind a four-year-old creates spontaneously, making no sense and really not funny at all, but I laughed. We all laughed. Then I gathered up my children, asked for their forgiveness, and we prayed.

I don’t specifically remember eating that carefully created meal with all of its carbohydrates and proteins in balance, but I do remember the nutritious lesson I learned that night. Watching your son beat the game, listening to your daughter pour out her broken heart, keeping your promise to “be there in just a minute”, or stopping to listen to a humorless joke are some very important ingredients. Added to the staples of a willingness to admit you are wrong and the readiness to stop and pray, I had the makings for a truly great family dinner, no matter what we were eating.

I don’t think I am the only parent out there struggling with the gap between ideals and reality. Sometimes I need to apply a little grace to my well-meaning but over-educated parenting objective and reset my priorities. One of the ways I do that is to keep the foundational objectives of the family dinner but loosen my legalistic image. Quality family time doesn’t just happen around the dinner table and even though manners do matter and routine is stabilizing, a spontaneous food fight can have more bang for it’s buck when it comes to creating a positive childhood experience.

Here are five ways to take a break from the traditional family dinner without breaking up the family:

1) Toothpick meal. Try occasionally switching silverware for toothpicks (only for children over three years old for safety reasons). Even foods your children usually avoid will seem to taste better when eaten from a toothpick. The kind with colored frills adds to the festivities and makes for easy personalized identification.

2) Frozen foods. Chewing cold hard things is not pleasure reserved for teething babies. Most fruits and many vegetables taste great frozen. Among our family’s favorite are frozen grapes, canned pears, fruit cocktail, corn and peas. They can eat them with a spoon or “drink” them from a cup.

3) Shape up your meal. You can cut down on preparation time and add to the “fun-to-eat factor” just by standing in front of your pantry and fridge and pulling out things that are the same shape. Here are some samples. What shapes are in you cupboard?

• Round meal: peas, meatballs, rolls, small apples
• Stick diner: hot dogs, string cheese, carrots sticks
• Square dinner: bread, cheese, box juice, cubed fruit

4) Meals with color. This is just a variation of #4

• Orange: Mac & cheese, orange juice, cantaloupe, carrots
• White: Peeled apples or pairs, buttered pasta, chicken, milk, cauliflower
• Red: Spaghetti with tomato sauce, fruit punch, strawberries
• Green: Pesto pasta, broccoli, salad, celery

5) A Common Meal. You may already be doing this with a big popcorn bowl, so why not extend it to the entire meal? Bring out one entrée at a time. Everyone has their utensils and eats from the same serving dish. Maybe it’s the competitive spirit, but somehow they eat more this way, even vegetables. Of course the best way to end a common meal is with a common dessert. I prefer everyone eating from the same ice cream container, but my kids love to dig into a whole cake or pan of brownies.