I’ve seen stories over the years about the impact of sitting down with your wife and kids and having dinner together. Kids’ grades improve, they’re less likely to use drugs and alcohol, their overall nutrition is better, their relationship with their siblings and parents improves, etc.

I am here to tell you, those studies are right…. and my kids are those derelict ingrates known as teenagers. When my working wife and I take the time to plan a meal together, and figure out how to get everybody together despite busy schedules, and it’s true…all of this is pain and only works a night or two a week, but when we do it, it’s great.

I mean… it… is… great. We talk and listen to each other; we kid each other and tell stories… one that leads to another to another which then reminds somebody of another, it goes on and on into the evening… it’s fun, and it feels like we are family. Close, caring, funny, connected to each other. It is unlike anything else in my life.

They say it’s good for the kids. I say it is good for me. It is good for the dreams I have that night.

This is not my beautiful wife this is not my beautiful house, well how did I get here?

            Well my story is not original but I never thought I would be telling it. You see ever since college I have lived the idyllic in-town lifestyle, walking around the historic neighborhoods, walking to the local market, walking to a friends house, just walking and enjoying snubbing my nose at those poor souls who for whatever reason chose to live in the hinterlands of suburbia. Then like a tornado finding its way to the nearest trailer park reality came knocking, actually reality came screaming, crying, pooping and spitting up all down my shirt, but wait that was the fun part of bringing up baby no reality truly hit the fan when it was time to send our Sunshine off to school. That’s when the blinders came off and we began to see the labels- low-test scores, failing schools- our child being left behind!

              Ok there’s got to be decent schools in-town and actually there are, great we’ll just sell our house and buy one in a decent school zone here in-town. Oh yeah and then there’s reality again snubbing its nose at US as we are faced with shoebox fixer-uppers, now I’m not opposed to getting my hands dirty but I am against paying through the nose for the privilege of doing it. The sad reality was that every investor/duel income couple with no kids were more than willing to open up their nasal cavity and take out a interest only loan for that same privilege. Private school was out of the question so we walked or rather we drove out to the suburbs and here we are great schools, great house and a great big mortgage, isn’t that great? Actually it’s not all that bad I enjoy the parks and hiking trails only now I have to get into my car to get there.

I am very thankful for the relationship I have with my kids. It seems that my past has become one of my best tools in creating for them a sense of security and honesty when speaking to me. As they became teens, I began revealing to them more of my past -- warts and all. My playing around with pot, sex, lying to cover-up, whatever...have all proven to be points of important contact with my kids' world. As they see friends take contrary turns, my kids ask me what it means, what it was like, what can they do. We talk.

I am simply saying, in my home, with my type of kids, it makes sense to make the dialogue honest and revealing in both directions. As I am willing to speak with nominally guarded truth, so are they. We are as close in the teen years as at any other point in their development. I am certain I can't say that about many of our other parent friends and their kids. In our home, the "perfect parent" simply does not exist. So, when the not-so-perfect teen surfaces, they are far less inclined to hide the truth. Honesty really is the best policy in our home.