not sure if manners really do maketh man—I am rather of the opinion that it’s possessing a penis and having the ability to reside in a house for ten years and still not know where the whisks live that separates us from them—but they certainly help a lot. They also maketh children and women, by the way, and there’s no better place to start establishing some civilised behaviour than at a table.
It is for this reason that there is a hand-written poster on the wall beside our kitchen table, bearing the following Rules:
Rules
1. Be polite.
2. When Mummy calls you go to the toilet, wash your hands and come down.
3. Sit up straight, but sit down at the table.
4. Don’t spit or stick your tongue out.
5. Do not sing, hum or whistle.
6. Don’t talk with your mouth full.
8. Say thank you to Mummy or Daddy before you start.
9. Do not get down from the table unless you have asked Mummy or Daddy and they have said ‘yes’.
10. No elbows on the table.
11. Never say ‘Yuk!’
12. No shouting.
13. No sitting on the high stools at the table.
14. Don’t wave your hands about in the air.
15. Don’t distract one another.
16. Don’t get other people into trouble.
17. No sitting on the table.
18. No taking food off other people’s plates and no putting food on other people’s plates (unless you are Mummy or Daddy).
19. No sitting on anything except the bench or chairs.
20. Don’t spit your food out.
Careful readers will notice that No. 7 is missing. I’m not sure whether this is because my kids can’t count properly, or whether they are so very, very clever that they have deliberately left a gap into which any clause required to win an argument can be inserted. I rather suspect the latter, and am constantly on my guard for any ‘It doesn’t say we can’t hide peas in our belly buttons’ type of cheek.
All of these rules have been created because whatever they refer to was either done or not done so many times that either my husband or I couldn’t stand it any more. They are still frequently broken, but we can always refer to the list and threaten Bed with No Stories, which pulls everyone back into line. There have been minor attempts at revolt (No. 5 doesn’t say you can’t Kazoo at the table; No. 14 doesn’t say you can’t wave your hand about in front of your siblings’ faces, and so on), but in general it has really worked a treat.
Do as I Say, Not as I Do. A busy mother’s mantra
I am totally guilty of this in the Dining Room area, and I am not embarrassed or ashamed to admit it at all. This is because I know for a fact that every normal parent I have ever met is as guilty as I am, and has a whole host of naughty eating habits that they would tell their own kids off for. Yes, I do Bad Things.
Like what? Oh, how much time have you got? Like picking at food while I’m cooking it, thus ruining my appetite. Like eating far too fast and not chewing properly. Like often eating bits with my fingers because it’s much more fun. Like talking with my mouth full, reaching across the table to get things, getting down from the table every thirty seconds to fetch something, and starting to clear the plates away before everyone has finished.
But before you chastise me for being a complete pig at the table, I have a perfectly good explanation, which any reasonably faulty, human, honest mother will identify with. Family mealtimes are almost always very hectic: there are a dozen things to be getting on with the moment they are finished, and sitting up straight, eating slowly, asking if your moody three-year-old could kindly pass the salt while ignoring the dramatic spillage that has occurred down the other end of the table is nearly impossible. Instead, we get it all over as quickly as we can, before tidying up after the event.
There are two schools of thought on this one: the first, that parents should always set a good example and to eat badly in front of children and then expect them to eat properly definitely classes as Bad Parenting. The second, that the life of a parent is tiring, stressful, relentless and thankless enough without ruling out fingerlicking and eating straight out of the fridge for good measure. Here are some tips that might help:
Why Isn’t Mummy Eating?
Fact 1: Many ladies have complicated issues with body image and food.
Fact 2: All mothers are ladies. (At least, they once were ladies, but are now exhausted, stretched and irritable forms of such beings, hence all the shouting and unladylike behaviour in the checkout queue. Be kind to them.)
Using basic logic, we can deduce from the above two facts that many mothers have issues with body image and food. There, I’ve said it, and by the sound reasoning above you can hopefully see that it’s true.
The result of this is that in every city, street and household in the land, lots and lots of ladies are trying to change their body shape, either to make it thinner, curvier, firmer, or just ‘more like that gorgeous actress I saw in that film last night.’ It’s really rather sad, when you think about it, that so much energy, money and time is wasted on a few rolls of subcutaneous fat, when there’s the planet to save and people unintentionally starving all over the place, but there it is: women obsessing about muffin tops and bingo wings are everywhere.
Every mother I know has been on one weird and wonderful food programme or another at some point in her post-childbirth life, because the body she once inhabited has been replaced by something two dress-sizes larger and covered in a saggy outer shell of loose skin. This is fine if you live alone, or perhaps with a cat or a cactus collection, but when you are eating together as a family, any peculiar eating habits come sharply under the spotlight, because everyone can see what you are, or aren’t, eating. Most children need a lot of food to keep them going through all their tree-climbing, growing, brain-using and sibling-bashing, so ‘family food’ needs to be wholesome, healthy and full of energy. When you are trying to shift a pound or two, or are about to go to a Legs, Bums and Tums class at the gym, sitting down to a two-course, filling