I hate dinnertime.

I hate cooking well-balanced meals that aren’t eaten.

I hate glaring at children who refuse to use napkins and utensils – at least in the way they’re supposed to be used.

I hate scolding the dog to stop begging at the table; the two-more-bites negotiations; the constant plea for dessert.

Most of all, I hate the implied societal pressure that a healthy, happy family must endure a Brady Bunch-style dinner.

Ok, so growing up I did have a Very Brady dinner every night, complete with full-course meal and all parents and siblings accounted for. And I’ll admit, it was usually a lovely thing.

I’ll also admit that I wish we could have that in our family. But my husband doesn’t get home from work until well after the kids are fed and bathed. And school, work and extracurricular activities often interrupt my best-laid dinner plans. And my children are 7 and 4. Needless to say, sitting at a table is not their favorite thing in the world.

So we’re left with a tense, eight-minute meal that’s more familial ordeal than bonding time.

Recently (and I’m embarrassed to admit this) – after my two little privileged suburbanites sniffed some broccoli, licked some grilled chicken and declared their bellies full – I actually found myself lecturing them about children starving in earthquake-shattered Haiti. I consider that kind of emotional manipulation to be outrageous parenting behavior.

I know I should just chill out. When it comes to my kids, the bigger my fuss, the bigger their rebellion. And they do eat throughout the day – not just junk but fruits and veggies, protein and whole wheat carbs. And we do talk throughout the day – about important stuff like bullying, bugs and SpongeBob’s latest antics.  

But I just feel like at this stage in my family’s life, a formal sit-down dinner is a waste of time. I cook. They nibble. I yell. They whine. Nothing good comes of it.

Then, when I read articles like the one just shared with me by a friend about the connection between obesity and hunger/food insecurity, I feel immense guilt. (Here it is if you’d like to read it: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/14/nyregion/14hunger.html?src=me)

There are kids in this world, in this country, in this county, who eat but are hungry. Their families don’t have the money for or the access to fresh foods. Their neighborhoods don’t support grocery stores. Their parents are too worried about keeping their jobs and their homes to extol the virtues of the Food Pyramid.

So maybe I should take my dinnertime woes and do something useful with all that angst. 

Start volunteering at a soup kitchen? Start donating the money we’d normally spend on dinner to a worthy organization? Or start going European – dinner at lunchtime, breakfast at dinner. Now that’s a thought. Waffles anyone?