The one thing we bought in 2024 that finally made our house a home
Or, our history in dining room tables.
2013: newlyweds
Adam salvaged a dining table from a thrift store and fixed it up. It was 90s chic with a fresh coat of paint. We had mismatched chairs, green walls, and green ceilings. Sometimes we ate meals there. We tried to do a “breakfast club” like the one we’d had in grad school, but we didn’t have many friends in our new town. We tried to play house and make fancy meals. Our attempts at "grown-up" meals usually ended with just us two at this oversized table.
2014:
The following year, seeking refuge from coastal dreariness, we moved to a new town—squeezing ourselves and our furniture (including the now-ill-fitting table) into a tiny one-bedroom apartment. 624 square feet. It felt more like a game of Tetris than a home. The table became a casualty of our cramped quarters, rarely used.
2016:
We bought a house. A house…without a dining room. We gave the dining table to friends and adapted to life without a dining table or room. The bar top became our dining room, the coffee table our picnic blanket. We became masters of the casual meal.
2018:
We brought baby Declan home on a warm spring day. Someone across the street was mowing their lawn. How could you mow your lawn on a day like that? Once he graduated from breast milk, we added a portable high chair that clipped onto the bar top. The bar top became our dining room, the coffee table our picnic blanket. We became masters of the casual meal. The messy outward expression a visual representation of the all the new adjustments to parenthood.
2020:
Pandemic. Wildfires. Protests. And baby Maeve. Our little family a safe haven amongst the weight of the world. Declan and Mimi made funfetti cupcakes—toddler Declan added salt instead of sugar. We borrowed a card table from my parents to stick in the tiniest of nooks in our kitchen, so we could actually eat meals together. To connect amongst the chaos. Maeve, a slow and deliberate eater, learned the signs for more and please—her tiny hands reaching more more beans and roast beef and peas. More. Please.
2021:
Adam, our resident thrifter, found an antique walnut collapsible table that could fit in the same nook, but also fold down into a tiny space when needed to save space. The kids creativity bloomed on that table as they did their “tivities” (what they call art projects). Markers and pens and glue and feathers and googley eyes became one with the table.
2023:
We moved! A new house, with a real dining room! (And, more importantly, more than one toilet!) But alas, old habits die screaming. The collapsible table found a home in the eat-in kitchen and the dining room was transformed into a TV room. We’d gotten so used to not having a “proper” dining space. Besides, who uses dining rooms anymore. They just become a hotbed for clutter, a drop zone for all-the-things we need to tend to eventually. Everyone just eats on the couch in front of their shows now, right? Why waste perfectly good living space with a formal dining room?
2024:
Novel idea: what if the dining room was actually used…for dining? We banished the tv and the couch to the front room, reclaiming the space for its intended purpose. Our quest to find the perfect dining table began. We scoured Facebook marketplace and even Craigslist looking for our table. Finally, feeling a bit like time travelers, we went to an actual furniture store. Our stress levels were high as the kids, naturally, wanted to treat it like an indoor playground. Amidst the chaos—a bamboo table caught my eye. It was just the right size, warm and inviting. And the craziest thing? We use it. All the time. It's the heart of our home now. The chairs are the most sat upon surface in our home. We eat meals and play games and do our good days and bad days. On it we served Thanksgiving and Christmas meals with people we love. It’s where Declan does his homework, where Maeve practices her letters, where we FaceTime with grandparents, and sign permission slips. We blink at each other while sipping weekday morning coffee (wait until I tell you about weekend morning coffee!). It is the highest traffic room of the house. It’s where we connect, truly connect, in a way that is so vital in a season when the pace of life is staggering.
I don’t know what took us so long to get ourselves around a real table, but I know I’m so glad we did. We have space to host friends and family and look each other in the eyes. I dare you: Eat at a table this week. Turn off your screens. Cook some vegetables. Serve them on a platter. Use the nice china and some cloth napkins (or leftover Christmas napkins—whatever you have!). The world won’t be fixed by watching the news, but it might be healed by the stories we share around a table.