Deteriorating Dinnertimes

When I was kid, we ALWAYS ate at the dinner table. I cannot for the life of me remember one dinnertime with the family that we ate in front of the TV. It was taboo. It was unthinkable. It just didn’t happen. Full House had it’s series finale and I had to eat potatoes at a table because it was “family” time. The series finale of FULL HOUSE!

I’ve been married two months now and I cannot for the life of me remember a single dinner where we sat at our table as a couple. I’m so ashamed! (I really hope my mom isn’t reading this, it would break her heart!)

We’ve been saying for weeks now how we should “really eat at the table” but we NEVER do. The couch has become our mealtime home – we just can’t stop! The novelty of my childhood has become the shaming secret of my adult-life.

I got really depressed about our situation the other night as I surveyed over our TV drone-ish lives. Howie was finishing a bag of tositos in his boxers, I was wearing his track pants (we hadn’t done the laundry in a while and even my grade eight pyjama pants had been worn a few too many times) and it occurred to me as I dug for the remote in between the crumb-collecting cushions of the couch that we had gone too far. This was just pathetic.

Just when I was really down on myself I starting creeping on facebook and stumbled upon a status that made me feel even worse about myself (why does that always happen?). This was a friend from university (also newly married) and it read something like this:

“Had the most amazing candlelit steak dinner cooked by my wonderful hubby! Then we slow danced in the kitchen to our song :)”

Talk about kicking a girl when she’s down. It was time to take action.

Me: Howie, this facebook post is making me feel really bad about myself

Howie: Aw… did somebody make fun of your Catherine Humphrey picture again? (More on that to follow)

Me: No… this girl just talked about having a romantic steak dinner with her husband and then they slow danced in their kitchen

Howie: Why do you feel bad? You don’t even like steak!

Me: Yah but we never do any romantic dinners anymore, and we never dance

Howie: I danced for you the other day!

Me: Moves like Jagger is not romantic dancing

Howie: Ok I’ll romantic dance right now

Me: No it’s not the same.

Howie: Ok well what do you want me to do?

Me: I want us to have romantic dinners at the table!

Howie: Ok well let’s do that tomorrow night

Me: Will you let me fix your hair?

Howie: Why? No one is coming over!

Me: But I’M here and you know I like your hair gelled

Howie: No Cheryl I’m not doing my hair.

Me: But you look so nice when you let me do your hair.

Howie: We’ll see. Maybe I will let you do my hair.

Me: And you’ll wear pants?

Howie: Don’t push it.

So tonight I am really looking forward to my romantic table-sit-down dinner with my pants-less hubby! Update on Howie’s hair status to follow.

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37 thoughts on “Deteriorating Dinnertimes

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