The Yummy Mummy’s Family Handbook. Liz Fraser

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СКАЧАТЬ need to forgo every evening out or earlymorning jog, but sometimes it’s worth a quick, ‘Do I really need to do that, or could I be at home now with my family, and do it some other time?’

      

Enjoy mealtimes. When I say eating together as a family, I mean ‘in a fun, noisy, relaxed, laughter-filled way’, not like a scene out of a pre-war boarding school. Think Dolmio adverts and you’re on the right lines. Mealtimes should be fun, not frightening.

      Bums on Seats: Table manners and other essentials

      I am a huge stickler for manners. This is almost certainly the result of both of my parents carrying the Stickler for Manners gene, which showed itself by them making me say my pleases, and thank yous and, horror of horrors, insisting I make eye contact when greeting guests. The older I get the more of a stickler I am becoming: I am now almost obsessive about instilling some decent manners in my own flock of hooligans, and the dining room is one of my favourite haunts in this quest.

      I’m 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:

      

Practise what you preach at the dinner table as often as possible, but don’t feel you have to be perfect all the time: occasionally talking with your mouth stuffed full of half-chewed pasta is absolutely fine and only shows you’re human.

      

The all-seeing eye. Most children observe a million times more than you might think by the way they loaf about looking bored. Beware the little eyes watching as you sneak in a square of chocolate ten minutes before dinner: they see you, and won’t understand the mystifying rules of PMT. Try to be more subtle and you’ll have less to explain later.

      

Chill out. The list of ‘Rules’ above was written with a good deal of humour by the whole family (except Charlie, who was about one at the time and just wanted to smear mashed banana in his hair). Nobody is expected to stick to it all the time, and some rules are mainly there for laughs. Our kids know that, and I don’t think they feel as though they are being brought up in a Victorian orphanage. If family mealtimes are an ordeal then something is seriously wrong—food is to be enjoyed, not endured, so do remember to laugh occasionally when your son knocks his entire plate of food onto his sister’s lap. It is quite funny, if you think about it.

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