I like to read blogs on the Adoptive Families Circle website where a multitude of concerns regarding blended families are always addressed. This time I found a delightful book titled Bringing up Bebe: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting, by Pamela Druckerman. She discusses the values of a more relaxed approach toward children, such as she experienced in France. At first it appeared to her that Parisian mothers dismissed the need to keep the children active at all times. No need for extracurricular activities when they had siblings to play with. And, it was important for children to be bored; only they could find their way out of it. It also meant that mothers had more leisure time for themselves. And as for eating, what came to the table was shared by everyone. Simple.

Oddly enough, when reflecting on my mothering skills, I was very much such a mother. Granted, I only had one son to ferry around, but I didn’t become obsessed in providing extracurricular activities for him. His delight in music was evident early on, so we furthered that skill to the best of our ability. Thus, so as not to damage his lips for the trumpet or his fingers for the piano, contact sports were out of the question. As an only child he did not cherish being jabbed in the ribs or kicked in the shins, anyway. His sports were track and swimming; and he was fast in both. At mealtimes, I don’t remember him ever refusing to eat what had been prepared. His “what’s for dinner,” was asked to make sure he chose the right cutlery.

When I was little, there was no media to distract from playing in the sandbox or on the swing set. Lunch was the main meal in the day. When I was invited to eat at a friend’s house it felt like an adventure, because their food had a different taste and was distinctive of the region where the particular family originated from in Germany. Some had more fish and cheese than we did, others more beef, one particular home had Spaetzle at every meal because the father came from Swabia. Spaetzle was by far my favorite food. I always ate well in someone else’s house, probably because no one paid special attention to whether I cleared my plate or not. And if they had cream of wheat for dessert, they did not care if I refused to have some.

I can see where modern American families, with their democratic approach to having the children voice their food preferences, have made it difficult for themselves. Not to mention the media bombarding children with food commercials.