Winging It

Winging it. That's what my parents called it when my mom threw together casual snack food and leftovers, and we ate as a family in front of the TV. I know this scene probably doesn't sound unusual these days, but when I was growing up my family always ate dinner together. At the table. No television, no distractions. Just the four of us around the table with dinner and conversation. My husband grew up the same way and thus, we always eat dinner at the dining room table. The two of us with our son, no TV, no phones, no distractions.

But these once in a blue moon nights around the television were fun too. It was still a family dinner. Whether we watched a movie, a sporting event, or some awards show, we did it together. And the finger food, well that was a treat. My mom is a great cook, and dinner meant all food groups- a healthy salad or melon, and then a plate of meat or poultry, veggies, and starch. Yes! We ate carbs and still do! However, these nights there were no rules: cheese and crackers, chips and dips, leftover Chinese, mac and cheese, pigs in blankets, mini quiches. You get the idea. It was never the same spread, but it was met with the same delight. I loved winging it.

Fast forward about thirty years, when my son was a young boy. Out of habit, I brought the tradition of winging it into my own home. I too, cook a well-rounded meal each night and we eat as a family around the dining room table. So one night when my son asked me what we were having for dinner and I had no plan, I told him we were winging it. And I did what my mom had always done. I pulled out whatever was in the freezer and the pantry, maybe repurposed some leftovers, and got what you might call a smorgasbord. Just like that, a tradition lived on.

As the years went on and my son accompanied me to the grocery store, once in awhile he would say, "Mom, can we just wing it for dinner tonight?" I was tickled by his adoption of the phrase and the ritual, but it started to evolve into something a little bit different. Instead of a throw together of what was already around (hence the term "winging it"), it became a spread of all our favorite party finger foods- some bought, some homemade. But it was our own little TV party, and I loved it.

My son still likes to go to out to eat with us, and from time to time we'll even all agree on a movie to go out and see in the theater. But rarely does he sit and watch TV with us, and we don't watch very much anyway. Then yesterday, he asked me if he could go grocery shopping with me. I have no illusions about why he wanted to go. He asks often so a) he can eat while he is there- Publix sub or sushi; and b) so he can make sure I buy all the things he likes (which I always do anyway). Maybe, just maybe, he also likes hanging out with me a little bit.

As we were walking through the store, my son who is now apparently too old to use our kiddie terms, said to me, "Mom, can we do TV food and watch a movie together tonight?" I'm not going to lie, I was doing cartwheels inside.

"You mean you're going to watch a movie with Dad and me?"

"Yeah."

And as we walked down the aisle I texted my husband explaining and asked, "You okay with that?" As if I didn't already know the answer.

"Fantastic!" he responded, and plans were underway.

Step by step, aisle by aisle, my son rattled on, "Can you make [this]" and "How about [that]?" I quickly realized we were hardly winging it.

"Funny, it seems like you'd have me in the kitchen all afternoon," I said. He insisted that wasn't his intention, and we compromised. I would make homemade mac and cheese and homemade potato skins, and we would buy Nathan's pig in blankets. He even came up with the idea of adding fresh broccoli to the mac and cheese. After all, we needed something green.

And I made his favorites. And I didn't care how high carb it was or high fat any of it was, because it was a special occasion. It might be the last time my almost-eighteen-year-old asked in so many words if we could wing it.