#5 - what mostly gets in the way for me is valuing productivity. When I have "getting things done" on my mind, the kids are "in the way," and I don't invite them to exist in my presence. It's a constant reminder to slow my roll and to kindly communicate to them what it is I need to do and let them know that they can either help me with it, or play on their own and we'll touch base when I'm done.
Kids being a nuisance is baked right into our collective notion of what constitutes worthwhile productivity. This is a hard one to detangle from for me as 1) the breadwinner and 2) a very task-absorbed person.
Growing up, my mother always had a project going or her nose in a book, and yet she invariably answered with warmth when we children interrupted her. Later, when she worked a full time job, she always took the time to take our calls. I’m still asking myself how she managed to make us feel ALWAYS welcome in her presence. She certainly didn’t always stop to do what we wanted, but there was never a message conveyed of us being in the way.
Yes, totally agree. It's such a thing (this overvaluing of productivity as something that makes money/has visible, tangible results) to unlearn but the more I think about it the more I see it as foundational. That's incredible about your mom. Is she still around? Could you talk with her about it? What a gift. What an inspiration.
#1 - seeing the deeper meaning behind food has already shifted things for me! Just today, I noticed that my attitude around having to pause yardwork to make lunch for everyone (my dad and husband, working in the yard and my kids, running around w neighbor kids) was different. I felt more joy and honestly satisfaction in it, whereas before I would have been annoyed and/or resentful.
I'm seeing it less as feeding them physically and more as... way of loving them. It also has helped me let go of the stupid-high standards I've historically had around if what I'm giving them is HeALthY (and being upset with myself if it's not). Today, it was chicken pieces and watermelon, and walking tacos for the rest of us. Nothing fancy or particularly good for us, but served in a spirit of joy and honestly, satisfaction. And that that means something, something real, makes a big difference for me. I'm so grateful for this book already!
In response to #4, I actually have an unfinished blog post that relates to this idea. What if we took care of ourselves the same way We took care of our kids? It cracks the code to the formula of "self-care." Set a bedtime, eat balanced meals and snacks, take a bath followed by lotion and comfy jammies, celebrate milestones, play outside...the answer to self-care is right if front of us, and it'd totally transform our livelihood.
I have SO many thoughts on this book, and it's already impacted how I parent and view feeding my children:
- I've stopped asking "What do you want to eat?" in the moment. I do invite them to help me plan meals, but in the moment when they are tired and hungry, they are seeking connection and to be cared for, so by asking them what they want, I'm pushing the responsibility back on them to care for themselves and decide what is best. They're welcome to ask for snacks or meals, but I try to curate a snack or meal to serve them rather than fire back I'm frustration.
- Even frozen chicken nuggets or PB&J can be served with love and meet nourishment and connection needs, and this book totally affirms that.
- I've been at a loss with my six year oldest behavior. Defiant, addicted to electronics, hitting his sisters, and the list goes on. I realized how dinner has become totally fragmented in our house. Rarely I sit down and eat with them. I serve the kids, we pray, but I jump up to unload the dishwasher and get a jump start on clean up and eat by myself later. I'm hoping reclaiming our dinner table will help reconnect and reattach to him.
Okay-coming here for a second time because I wrote a novel of a comment a while back and lost it while wiping a wee butt😂
I had notes and underlines and many thoughts but I’m going to focus in more on my general thoughts and the feelings that this chapter drummed up in me in general. The overall theme that came up for me was that of generosity. How our children need to feel that invitation from us, and the how that requires a spirit of sincere generosity. Along with that, I felt some guilt. Guilt because my soul desires to be truly generous but my mind grapples with this one. I think one of my main “stories” I carry is that of lack around money/abundance/wealth etc., and no matter if we are hurting in the area of finances or overflowing, I hold a lot of anxiousness here and it makes me stingy with food, and I sort of hate that about myself.
Thinking about this really made me realize that perhaps I really need to pay attention to my intuition around my spending, so that I don’t have to feel the weight of the slack, whether it is true, or perceived, when it comes to buying food and sharing food. If anything, it really has encouraged some thinking about re-prioritization, and the place food and meal planning holds in our lives. In being more prepared, I can be more generous.
Also wanted to draw attention to this quote because the analogy was so spectacular to me:
“Our first table wasn't rectangular in nature but a cord that stretched and wove us to our biological mother in keeping with some ancient developmental template. This umbilical cord made of connective tissue, arteries, and a vein is designed to bring a steady flow and exchange of oxygen, nutrients, and blood between us. It is here that we have our first feast as our mother's body fuses with ours and generously serves us.”
I love when I start reading a book on food or whatever other singular topic, and then find out it’s actually a book about motherhood, reparenting ourselves, society, marriage, and so much more! I’m already finding a lot of takeaways that speak to me within and outside the realm of feeding my family. A little hidden gem I picked up on is the idea that we don’t need to learn how to invite or attach or build relationships. We just need to “let ourselves be moved to that place where we can vulnerably feel our innate drive to take responsibility for another person.” Despite usually being an avid reader, researcher, debater, and overthinker, so much of my parenting could be described as just “letting myself be moved.” Contextualizing feeding, too, as less a matter of learning and applying the right things and instead as a matter of unlearning so that we can access something we already innately know how to do well is a really comforting paradigm shift that feels very truthful — and far more achievable — to me.
#6 was a sore spot for me. My husband and I both had wildly different upbringings, and therefore much different backgrounds on food, nourishment and connection that has impacted our kids. Not all bad, but not all good either. And I can see now that we have lost the “connection” of mealtime— instead, eating so we can “move on with our day” for example. So I’m hoping that as we continue to work through this book, she will have more actionable items for restoring that connection not just for the kids, but the whole family.
Re: question #4: this gets me so fired up! I feel like sidelining fundamental needs happens SO often when considering adults compared to children, and correlates directly with the misguided idea that maturing and becoming a caregiver inherently means severing the mind from the body. An adult caregiver who cannot regulate herself due to chronic deprivation of basic needs has the potential to become a liability to a child instead of a shelter, or—at the very least—a less likely source of coregulation & connection and a role model for self neglect. And this in the end serves no one.
Your last two sentences, oof, YES. "the misguided idea that maturing and becoming a caregiver inherently means severing the mind from the body" - can you elaborate? Where/how do you see this and where do you think it comes from?
What came through so strongly for me in this first chapter is that the daily act of nourishment involves elements of courtship. Not in the romantic sense, but in the sense of intentional, consistent creation of a context for call and response. And an invitation given against a backdrop of disconnection or misunderstanding, lacking that intentional wooing that has to precede the offer of a gift, has a low chance of being received. I think of how often I’m cranky or rushed while preparing dinner, and then expect the children to move into mealtime without carrying our previous conflict to the table. What an assault my flurry must be on the nervous system & digestion!
The other element that emerged for me is nourishment in shared or served meals is an act of coregulation (and I think this is reflected in cultures with deep roots in hospitality traditions). I like much of what our family does now—joined hands around the table and prayer to begin the meal, serving food in pretty dishes, no tech at the table, everyone eats together—but I feel like the ideas in this book are going to uncover many areas where I can truly improve in creating rest and connection as the shelter for our food. Only a few chapters in and I’m already feeling the internal squirm.
Love all this. I can relate so much to what you described your first paragraph. It's so hard to prepare meals while also caring for kids, especially if you try to not do screens. I was talking with a friend recently who told me she doesn't really start dinner until her husband gets home and takes over care duties. That kind of blew my mind and I've started doing it, too. I don't know why I had this idea of dinner should be ready or close to ready. That's... lol. But it was very ingrained as something to aspire to, when honestly it feels just really unrealistic (and, like you said, a recipe for crankiness and stealing your ability to be a peaceful presence for your kids).
I simply do not prepare dinner while caring for young kids (which I continue to have). Maybe I will when they're older. I can do quick lunches while watching young kids, but not cooked dinners.
Instead, I batch cook large amounts of two dishes on weekends, and we eat them all week long. This works because my husband and I both like leftovers; I know some people don't.
The idea is that my husband watches the kids while I cook. Sometimes he hasn't been up to that task, so we hired a babysitter.
#5 - what mostly gets in the way for me is valuing productivity. When I have "getting things done" on my mind, the kids are "in the way," and I don't invite them to exist in my presence. It's a constant reminder to slow my roll and to kindly communicate to them what it is I need to do and let them know that they can either help me with it, or play on their own and we'll touch base when I'm done.
Kids being a nuisance is baked right into our collective notion of what constitutes worthwhile productivity. This is a hard one to detangle from for me as 1) the breadwinner and 2) a very task-absorbed person.
Growing up, my mother always had a project going or her nose in a book, and yet she invariably answered with warmth when we children interrupted her. Later, when she worked a full time job, she always took the time to take our calls. I’m still asking myself how she managed to make us feel ALWAYS welcome in her presence. She certainly didn’t always stop to do what we wanted, but there was never a message conveyed of us being in the way.
Yes, totally agree. It's such a thing (this overvaluing of productivity as something that makes money/has visible, tangible results) to unlearn but the more I think about it the more I see it as foundational. That's incredible about your mom. Is she still around? Could you talk with her about it? What a gift. What an inspiration.
#1 - seeing the deeper meaning behind food has already shifted things for me! Just today, I noticed that my attitude around having to pause yardwork to make lunch for everyone (my dad and husband, working in the yard and my kids, running around w neighbor kids) was different. I felt more joy and honestly satisfaction in it, whereas before I would have been annoyed and/or resentful.
I'm seeing it less as feeding them physically and more as... way of loving them. It also has helped me let go of the stupid-high standards I've historically had around if what I'm giving them is HeALthY (and being upset with myself if it's not). Today, it was chicken pieces and watermelon, and walking tacos for the rest of us. Nothing fancy or particularly good for us, but served in a spirit of joy and honestly, satisfaction. And that that means something, something real, makes a big difference for me. I'm so grateful for this book already!
In response to #4, I actually have an unfinished blog post that relates to this idea. What if we took care of ourselves the same way We took care of our kids? It cracks the code to the formula of "self-care." Set a bedtime, eat balanced meals and snacks, take a bath followed by lotion and comfy jammies, celebrate milestones, play outside...the answer to self-care is right if front of us, and it'd totally transform our livelihood.
That is so great. Genius. Get that published! :)
Please, publish this! This summer we are entering a new season as a family, and I think this simplistic approach is just what we need. Thank you!
I have SO many thoughts on this book, and it's already impacted how I parent and view feeding my children:
- I've stopped asking "What do you want to eat?" in the moment. I do invite them to help me plan meals, but in the moment when they are tired and hungry, they are seeking connection and to be cared for, so by asking them what they want, I'm pushing the responsibility back on them to care for themselves and decide what is best. They're welcome to ask for snacks or meals, but I try to curate a snack or meal to serve them rather than fire back I'm frustration.
- Even frozen chicken nuggets or PB&J can be served with love and meet nourishment and connection needs, and this book totally affirms that.
- I've been at a loss with my six year oldest behavior. Defiant, addicted to electronics, hitting his sisters, and the list goes on. I realized how dinner has become totally fragmented in our house. Rarely I sit down and eat with them. I serve the kids, we pray, but I jump up to unload the dishwasher and get a jump start on clean up and eat by myself later. I'm hoping reclaiming our dinner table will help reconnect and reattach to him.
Beautiful; thanks for sharing all these.
Okay-coming here for a second time because I wrote a novel of a comment a while back and lost it while wiping a wee butt😂
I had notes and underlines and many thoughts but I’m going to focus in more on my general thoughts and the feelings that this chapter drummed up in me in general. The overall theme that came up for me was that of generosity. How our children need to feel that invitation from us, and the how that requires a spirit of sincere generosity. Along with that, I felt some guilt. Guilt because my soul desires to be truly generous but my mind grapples with this one. I think one of my main “stories” I carry is that of lack around money/abundance/wealth etc., and no matter if we are hurting in the area of finances or overflowing, I hold a lot of anxiousness here and it makes me stingy with food, and I sort of hate that about myself.
Thinking about this really made me realize that perhaps I really need to pay attention to my intuition around my spending, so that I don’t have to feel the weight of the slack, whether it is true, or perceived, when it comes to buying food and sharing food. If anything, it really has encouraged some thinking about re-prioritization, and the place food and meal planning holds in our lives. In being more prepared, I can be more generous.
Also wanted to draw attention to this quote because the analogy was so spectacular to me:
“Our first table wasn't rectangular in nature but a cord that stretched and wove us to our biological mother in keeping with some ancient developmental template. This umbilical cord made of connective tissue, arteries, and a vein is designed to bring a steady flow and exchange of oxygen, nutrients, and blood between us. It is here that we have our first feast as our mother's body fuses with ours and generously serves us.”
I cried.
I love when I start reading a book on food or whatever other singular topic, and then find out it’s actually a book about motherhood, reparenting ourselves, society, marriage, and so much more! I’m already finding a lot of takeaways that speak to me within and outside the realm of feeding my family. A little hidden gem I picked up on is the idea that we don’t need to learn how to invite or attach or build relationships. We just need to “let ourselves be moved to that place where we can vulnerably feel our innate drive to take responsibility for another person.” Despite usually being an avid reader, researcher, debater, and overthinker, so much of my parenting could be described as just “letting myself be moved.” Contextualizing feeding, too, as less a matter of learning and applying the right things and instead as a matter of unlearning so that we can access something we already innately know how to do well is a really comforting paradigm shift that feels very truthful — and far more achievable — to me.
#6 was a sore spot for me. My husband and I both had wildly different upbringings, and therefore much different backgrounds on food, nourishment and connection that has impacted our kids. Not all bad, but not all good either. And I can see now that we have lost the “connection” of mealtime— instead, eating so we can “move on with our day” for example. So I’m hoping that as we continue to work through this book, she will have more actionable items for restoring that connection not just for the kids, but the whole family.
Re: question #4: this gets me so fired up! I feel like sidelining fundamental needs happens SO often when considering adults compared to children, and correlates directly with the misguided idea that maturing and becoming a caregiver inherently means severing the mind from the body. An adult caregiver who cannot regulate herself due to chronic deprivation of basic needs has the potential to become a liability to a child instead of a shelter, or—at the very least—a less likely source of coregulation & connection and a role model for self neglect. And this in the end serves no one.
Your last two sentences, oof, YES. "the misguided idea that maturing and becoming a caregiver inherently means severing the mind from the body" - can you elaborate? Where/how do you see this and where do you think it comes from?
I’m going to have to think about this question! I see the pattern often with my birth clients, both conservative religious and mainstream.
No worries! I definitely sense the truth of the statement; I'm just wanting to hear more about it!
What came through so strongly for me in this first chapter is that the daily act of nourishment involves elements of courtship. Not in the romantic sense, but in the sense of intentional, consistent creation of a context for call and response. And an invitation given against a backdrop of disconnection or misunderstanding, lacking that intentional wooing that has to precede the offer of a gift, has a low chance of being received. I think of how often I’m cranky or rushed while preparing dinner, and then expect the children to move into mealtime without carrying our previous conflict to the table. What an assault my flurry must be on the nervous system & digestion!
The other element that emerged for me is nourishment in shared or served meals is an act of coregulation (and I think this is reflected in cultures with deep roots in hospitality traditions). I like much of what our family does now—joined hands around the table and prayer to begin the meal, serving food in pretty dishes, no tech at the table, everyone eats together—but I feel like the ideas in this book are going to uncover many areas where I can truly improve in creating rest and connection as the shelter for our food. Only a few chapters in and I’m already feeling the internal squirm.
Love all this. I can relate so much to what you described your first paragraph. It's so hard to prepare meals while also caring for kids, especially if you try to not do screens. I was talking with a friend recently who told me she doesn't really start dinner until her husband gets home and takes over care duties. That kind of blew my mind and I've started doing it, too. I don't know why I had this idea of dinner should be ready or close to ready. That's... lol. But it was very ingrained as something to aspire to, when honestly it feels just really unrealistic (and, like you said, a recipe for crankiness and stealing your ability to be a peaceful presence for your kids).
I simply do not prepare dinner while caring for young kids (which I continue to have). Maybe I will when they're older. I can do quick lunches while watching young kids, but not cooked dinners.
Instead, I batch cook large amounts of two dishes on weekends, and we eat them all week long. This works because my husband and I both like leftovers; I know some people don't.
The idea is that my husband watches the kids while I cook. Sometimes he hasn't been up to that task, so we hired a babysitter.