hello hello. hope you are having a great week so far:) the other day i blogged about something i had to do that i didn’t want to do, but i did have that conversation, and it went much better than i expected. doesn’t it always? i think most of the time my fears are more in my head than anything else. but more about that another time.

a few weeks ago, i grabbed my camera around dinnertime to take some photos of a dinner i was cooking. i’m going to start sharing some recipes that we are eating lately. i’ve found that when i see a recipe on someone’s feed or blog, even if it’s something simple, it might be something that i’ve forgotten about, or something i’ve never done that way. and it’s usually just what i need to get me excited to cook again after the same old and boring things. but another reason i want to share what we are eating, is because the act of eating together as a family is something i think is important. and documenting it just as much.

that night, i kept my camera out as we ate. to me, the dinner table is such a crucial part of what makes a home. for the first year that we lived her, we didn’t have one due to space being limited, so we opted for bar stools to eat at the raised kitchen counter. i quickly realized i would not be happy with that decision. not only did the stools prove to be terrible, as one by one the suspension broke on each one, making it so that the minute you sit down you’d slowly start sinking toward the ground. while this was annoying, it was funny to watch people come over and sit and try and fix it or be in the middle of a sentence and watch them get lower and lower as they talked. but still, i wanted to turn those things in for a table. a strong and sturdy table. wooden, too. somewhere where we could all sit, together, and eat. drink tea. color. talk.

i love this quote from we were the mulvaneys, by joyce carol oates: “what is a family, after all, except memories?-haphazard and precious as the contents of a catchall drawer in the kitchen.” so many memories, good memories, from my childhood involve meals. home cooked meals. everything about the process of a home cooked meal is comforting to me. the process, the smells, the heat, the togetherness. being apart of a family as big as my own, i don’t think eating out was ever really an option. when we did it was a rare treat. but eating meals made by my mom was something that was a staple for me, a familiar comfort. it was also the only time of the day that all 9 of us came together. some meals were quick, some were happy, some were silent, but they were consistent. we all knew when and where dinner would be. as we got older, and had jobs and basketball practice and friends, some dinners were less full than others. and now, with one sibling in australia and myself in vancouver, as well as spouses and babies added to the mix, we almost never get to eat together. it’s probably been years at this point. but we have the memories of the days back then that slowly, over time, helped to mold and define our memories as a family.

although i think the very act is special and meaningful, i think that is developed over time. the day to day does not look like something out a 1950′s print ad (i just caught up on mad men). drying laundry, toys on the floor and a messy kitchen usually accompany the scene. and, much of the time the kids end up eating first. or, if we do eat together, theo is usually throwing his food or his plate, or rolling his sippy cup all over the table. i’ll be trying to get ev to eat something other than mac n cheese. it’s a little bit of chaos. but i’m glad we did get rid of those stools. thank goodness. we even found a gem on craigslist. someone was moving and needed to get rid of their table and four chairs. and it was wooden! this turned out to be a great thing for us not only for the obvious reason of saving money but because had we spent money on a brand new table, we quickly found out the kids would help make it look used real quick. but really, the scratches and marks and crayon that does find it’s way on there, it’s a mark of a living and breathing home. an imperfect home, but a home nonetheless.

p.s. has anyone had trouble with my blog loading?

 theo stole the show from here on out…