I like to entertain. I like feeding people (despite hating to cook). I like bringing out my grandmother's china and pretty serving bowls and making things nice for guests. I like having time to hang out with friends. I like a house full of people -- not all the time, but enough. So usually when I take one of those "What's Your Spiritual Gift?" surveys -- for whatever they're worth -- hospitality shows up strongly.
But over the past eight years or so, I've greatly cut back on the simple art of inviting friends over for dinner. Honestly, since we've had kids, dinner time around here is just one big crazy hyena circus. Ever been to a hyena circus? Me, neither. But I bet it's a lot like chowtime here. Lots of howling. And cackling. Oh, the cackling (usually it's me because, stick a fork in me, I am DONE). 5:00 "milk meltdowns." Hungry children whining for snacks. Spilled chocolate milk/canned peaches/yogurt/name the stickiest thing on the kids' plates. Trips to the bathroom. Arguments about how many bites are necessary for excusal from the table. Inviting friends into that mess wouldn't be hospitality. It would be just mean.
So, while my kids are totally used to taking dinner to families with new babies or illnesses or "needs," they really haven't had too much experience with having people over "just because." (Shame on me.)
Today I was telling the kids that our friend Mr. Matt is coming over for dinner tonight while his wife and kids are out of town. Adam looked totally confused. "Well, why is Mr. Matt comin' over, Mom?"
"Because Daddy and I think this is a good way to get him to stop associating with us completely."
"Because Daddy and I thought he might like company."
"But, Mom...he's a grownup. He can handle hisself!"
Clearly we need to brush up on our hospitality skills...both for the joy of it and for the example we obviously need to set for Mr. Graciousness & Co. Looking forward to it!
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