Makes-Me-Smile Monday: Some Kind of Wonderful

There are no secrets in my family. Well, there might be one or two, but I have no idea what they are. We talk about everything, especially meaty things some people consider indelicate, like politics and religion and sex and marriage and how do you enjoy raising your kids when they whine all the time?

Sometimes this caused pain, as when Dad compared me to a wasp (because of my sharp tongue, and no, dad, I still haven’t forgotten that, sorry!) or when he asked me if I were on speed (nope, just Mountain Dew, and sorry, haven’t forgotten that one either). Dad was also really candid about his own faults. I know things about my dad that I could really embarrass him with online, but I won’t. Because he knows things about me, too.

When I was 13 and wanting to go swimming during one of my first periods, I couldn’t get the tampon in. Muscles too tight, brain too anxious. There was no way that foreign object was going anywhere inside me. Mom said she could do it if I wanted. Well, that’s just gross. And weird. But I wanted to go swimming. And I trusted, I mean, really trusted, my mom.

I grew up knowing that, whatever else, my dad and mom would never tell me less than the truth. And they expected the truth and nothing but the truth back. Of course I still lied. I lied when I was afraid they just wouldn’t understand. Who could possibly understand? How shocked was I when my sheltered little parents not only understood, but still loved me, and wanted the world to be right for me? Now they, and I, want the world to be right for my sister, and for all of their progeny. That’s all we want, right? For the world to be RIGHT for those we love.

My parents did a lot of things right (and a few wrong, catch me on a less-reminiscing day, and I’ll TELL ALL), but one thing that imprinted on me to the point of inducing salivation at 6 pm sharp is family dinner. Dick used to tease me about my Pavlovian insistence on all five of us being at the table with food of some sort on our plates every. single. night. Basketball? School function? Church activity? Better eat fast.

Then Dick listened to an NPR Bryant Park Project podcast and learned that family dinner is associated with better early reading, even more so than parents’ reading to their kids. Suddenly family dinner is the cool thing to do. But it’s not just the fish sticks and broccoli, it’s the complex conversation, replete with explanations of words and storytelling.

The benefits of showing “genuine concern about each other’s daily activities” even extends to kids with asthma. They’re less likely to end up in the ER if they come from a family “reasonably intact and functional” enough to have family dinner with a side of conversation.

Now, I admit that sometimes I’ve only set my book down long enough to yell at Sally to set her book down. Then Dick says (he doesn’t yell, sigh) “I thought we weren’t going to read at the table anymore.” Sigh.

Then we watched Some Kind of Wonderful in anticipation of the MMSM carnival. And what do they do at least twice in that movie, at some length? They have a family meal. They talk. They hassle each other about school and Keith’s sister teases him about his hot date with Amanda Jones. Dad gets mad at Keith for calling him and Mom by their first names. Mom makes the effort for a solid, if boring, meal. And, for once in cinema-land, they actually sit around the table, instead of along one side of it. They’re a family.

When Keith withdraws all his college money and his dad finds out, there’s a lot of yelling — and the real “F” word, not just the “f” word we’ve banned at our house (fat). But the dad listens. He hears what his crazy, dumb 18-year-old son says. He’s right, Keith’s right. Dad understands, and Keith can finish growing up with his blessing.

As Watts says,

Yeah, well, in comparative terms, it’s probably better to have an old man nagging you about your future, than no old man, not nagging you about nothing.

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Link up to the MMSM carnival below! This week we have a giveaway for one lucky participant. I offered one of Shalece’s Fortune Cookie Kits at the UBP and that went well, so we’re excited to offer another one (Shalece is all-entreprenuerial that way). You can see what’s in the kits (and meet Shalece!) in the video at her site. Personalized fortune cookies make great party favors or special thank-you tokens or original surprise-springers (I’m pregnant! or I didn’t forget our anniversary!). You can even dip them in chocolate or just serve them as dessert for that special family dinner I know you’re planning.