Dinner Table Discussions

It has come to my attention, as I've wandered through Facebook, that if anyone happens to hashtag  or Google anything to do with the subject matter of my posts, that it very possibly could literally do what my blog title reads; stir the pot.

We always teased my dad that he was a bit of a stirrer and even gave him this huge spoon carved out wood, with his name painted on it by yours truly , for a birthday gift.  I learned to argue from my dad.  I got my temperament from him, I believe, though I don't usually 'hit 50,000 feet' as he seemed to do when I was a teenager.

The dinner table has always been, and continues to be to this day, the forum for discussion in our home.  My mom would often get herself all 'in a dither', as she termed it, over my brothers and I having differing opinions and my dad throwing more-than-two-cents worth into the fray.  Nothing was off limits and even when we were horribly wrong or overly dramatic, we were allowed our opinion and say.

My children are splendid at dinner time with their political opinions, observations on life, and deep religious discussion interspersed with cryptic remarks about each other.  They are very aware of each other's shortcomings, sensitive areas and know which buttons to push at the appropriate time.  But they wouldn't have it any other way, despite the sometimes very heated discussions that take place.

We have now added to the foray, two sons-in-law and a daughter-in-law.  I think the first time any of these three encountered our dinner time/table discussions (henceforth known as DTD ) they weren't quite sure what to make of the DTD, us as a family, and the congenial stepping away from the table.

I think the DTD has lead to a pretty healthy respect for other people and their beliefs, views, and right to express themselves without judgment.  Now, don't get me wrong, there have been times after DTD takes place that can be somewhat critical or judgmental.  I find when this happens it is usually about something that someone felt was unresolved during DTD or, more likely than not, what was not expressed because something interrupted the flow of conversation.

Not all of the DTD are deep and meaningful.  We have a pretty good sense of humor, the lot of us, and we have had some hilarious conversations.  One whole DTD was about dangling participles, what one was, when it was used, how often, who tended to use them and so on.  The subject then became the topic of a paper written by #1 daughter, I believe.  We still bring the subject up ever now and again and have a good laugh.  Just so you know, we were wrong about what it was, which makes the conversation we originally had all the more funny.

My husband has been a bishop, twice.  The first time he was only twenty-nine years old.  We had three small children, my parents lived with us and we lived in a very transient ward.  We also lived in 1980's Oregon, known for its quirky residents and odd politics.  People would quite often petition my husband for assistance, knowing that the Mormons helped those in need.  I have to say that some of these situations called for some awesome DTD but my husband, who is practically Mother Theresa in male form when it comes to lost, destitute souls, would never let us "eat them at the table".  This was his way of letting us know that we were not to gossip and back-bite, especially at the table.  It's good council.  We haven't been perfect at it, but we know the limits.

Others have asked me quite often, things they would recommend in raising a family.  They deem my husband and I to have raised our children successfully (you'll have to ask them that) and without question I will say, "Eat dinner together every night."  I've heard all kinds of excuses about how that's not possible, but it is.  We did it with little kids, tweens in three different schools and teenagers with their chaotic schedules.  Everyone knew that regardless of what was happening, dinner would be eaten between 6:00 and 6:30 p.m.  Of course there were times we had to make adjustments, but whomever was at home would sit down together and eat.  We still do it and we still set the table with a table cloth too.

I'm a pot stirrer.  I'm not the worst, the best, insightful, can wax lyrical at the drop of a hat, or necessarily understood, but I'm allowed my say ... mostly.  But I do get to speak and we should all have that right.