10 Wise Nutrition Rituals This Nutrition PhD Learned From Her Single Mother

Eating food at tables with people you love seems pretty basic, but it’s become seriously underrated these days. Let’s bring gathering at tables back (and put the devices down). 

Part of the daily ritual my mom set up in our earliest years was gathering around tables with intention, whether it was a bar in the kitchen for breakfast or the dining room table for supper. Or maybe it was popcorn in the living room while we watched Friday evening TGIF shows together. Regardless, we were coming together and investing time in each other over delectable food.

Tables and coming together over food ensured daily connection. This engagement was critical in childhood and adolescence. Allowing us to feel seen and heard, and instilling essential life lessons via teachable moments into our hearts and minds, these countless daily conversations were invaluable.

Eating together regularly involves routine. Whether you call it routine (or the sexier term “ritual” these days), my mom, a former elementary school teacher, was skilled at creating order. As her beloved child, I found calm in the anticipation of a healthy routine, and reward in the discipline it involved. 

She even had an amazing sticker chart system that started in toddlerhood, where my brother and I earned stickers (and pride) for completing little chores and other tiny wins, including these earliest disciplines of simply enjoying our meals at the table with respect for others at that table.

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My maternal grandparents grew up during the Great Depression. As parents, their daily posture of gratitude for the smallest things clearly impacted my mother. In lieu of criticism and focusing on discouraging things, my mom encouraged us from a young age to think of and share things we were grateful for. 

Food and its nourishment for our bodies sat atop that daily list of gratitude. She explained that many others in the world, including children, did not have the guarantee of food. Meanwhile, our refrigerator and pantry had more than enough, and our tummies were full. 

A prayer preceded each of our meals, where we expressed thanks for the food on our table, the health of our bodies, and our many other blessings in life.

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I remember my mom discussing food as fuel at a very young age. Fuel to energize our activities and fuel for our brain.

Ballet became a passion of mine at a very early age, and my mother would always ensure that I had adequate food fuel (a healthy snack often involving bran, peanut butter, and fruit) and hydration (full water bottle) before each practice. The same was true in my later years playing various competitive sports.

Interestingly, thinking about food as fuel presupposes that you’re burning said fuel–i.e., expending energy through physical activity. Here's a sad fact: Kids used to play (and move) a lot more before the digital era eroded such critical health practices. I'm glad we were always on the move growing up. When dinner was ready, it was extremely common for my mom to ask me to pause my ballet routine mid-jump or mid-pirouette (I was always practicing in the living room) and then round up my brother from shooting basketball hoops outside. 

Viewing meals as high-quality energy inputs also helped set me up for a healthy relationship with food. Using food as a coping mechanism was something I only saw on the occasional TV show, and using food for control (e.g., restricting consumption) was something I saw some girls do in high school. Thankfully, those were both unnatural food approaches for me because of my mom’s wisdom.

Because food is fuel, breakfast was a non-negotiable from breastfeeding years on up. Oats, whether steel cut or plain Cheerios, were common, as were grits and eggs. My mom would naturally sweeten our oatmeal with milk and fruit (either banana slices or berries) and complemented it with cinnamon. Years later, I recall being one of the few college students in the dining hall every morning for breakfast. Before “nootropics” was a mainstream term, I simply knew that I needed my “brain food” before class, because it was a prudent habit ingrained in me by my mother.

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While terms like “plant-based” are hot right now and confuse carnivores into thinking they must convert to strictly vegetarian or vegan lifestyles (nothing wrong with that, by the way), my upbringing incorporated some animal protein daily, but was also heavily plant-based, too. Animals and plants are not contradictory concepts.  

Indeed, the colorful plate and dietary pattern full of plants (whole grains, fruits, vegetables, legumes, nuts, seeds) that my mom filled our home with meant that my growing body was full of fiber, complex carbohydrates (great for blood sugar balance and cardiometabolic health, by the way) and a diverse lineup of micronutrients and phytonutrients.

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I don’t recall carbon footprints being discussed much in school, nor was it a topic at our dinner table (recycling was, however), but I do remember my mom being very intentional about supporting local foods (and farmers) when they were available. 

Whether it was fish my grandfather caught in Charleston on a Saturday morning, or the cornucopia of beautiful vegetables he grew, or supporting local offerings from Piggly Wiggly (FYI, that’s a grocery store for those of you who are less familiar with the South) or Rosebank Farms on the way out to the beach, my mom loved keeping her “foraging” close to home.

Outside of certain academic circles, intuitive and mindful eating were not topics discussed until quite recently. Now these concepts are mainstream, and we’re better for it. When we take care of our bodies, they are brilliant and resilient. They send us signals all the time, whether we are hungry, thirsty, full, stressed, or sleepy. Just to name a few. 

My mom encouraged us to eat slowly enough as children so we could, in fact, hear our bodies’ cues. Part of that was also the fact that we were conversing (back to those gathering and connection concepts) and had to put down the utensils from time to time. 

Fast forward to my adults years, and I find myself rushing mealtime at times. Similar to inhalation, too many of us adults speed through meal time, failing to savor or find joy in food. While our stomach and brain (hello, gut-brain axis) are attempting to huddle and communicate with us, we’ve already finished eating and have moved onto sloshing back some water and coffee to keep on keeping on. Whenever possible (and I'm totally preaching to myself here), let's slow down and savor our food.

Another intuitive eating principle my mother espoused (unknowingly) was the fact that we did not operate in a “clean plate club” world. Well, aside from the protein and veggies we were expected to consume. Outside of those basic guidelines, the rest was optional (and options encourage autonomy and empower children) and involved us intuitively listening to hunger and satiety signals our bodies provided. 

While food and mealtime are something I’ve enjoyed my entire life, there were also next-level fun food experiences my mom introduced. These oftentimes aligned with celebrations and gatherings of family and friends.

Eating out was rare and thus, special. Mind you, portions weren’t quite as ridiculous as they are today, and for the most part, my mom ensured that the same principles for healthful eating at home applied at restaurants. 

Traditional desserts (think: cake, cupcakes, pie, cookies, donuts) were also a very rare treat we experienced outside of the home. My mom chose to not have sugar- and calorie-laden (which are energy dense and not nutrient dense) desserts in the house. While my mom could bake a mean casserole, she simply was not whipping up cookies, cakes, and pies.

My dear maternal grandmother was a talented cook and baker. I fondly recall the special treat of a fruit-laden or nutty pie for a few holiday gatherings each year. Of course, there was my birthday: carrot cake with cream cheese icing in the shape of a roller blade (I had birthday parties at the local roller rink most years).

And then there was the sheer joy and surprise that my mom wove into certain holidays with genuine creativity and artistry. On Valentine’s Day growing up, I remember she would make buckwheat pancakes (yes, buckwheat) in the shape of hearts. She colored them pink naturally with beet juice, with some drizzled maple syrup to top them off. As I said, food is fun.

While my mother was inclusive when it came to fruit and vegetable variety, she also excluded certain food and beverage items with intention. Exclusivity is important sometimes. “Out of sight, out of mind” is such a true statement. What my mother chose to exclude from our home, refrigerator, and pantry–were out of our minds (and bodies).

Calorie-excessive, nutritionally-devoid, processed food options with added sugars, hydrogenated fats, and long ingredient lists simply weren’t around. I’m talking about chips, soda, cookies, other baked goods, sugary cereals, etc. True story: I discovered the modern inventions known as Cheez Whiz and colorful circles known as Fruit Loops at a friend’s house well into elementary school. 

My first soda was consumed at a middle school dance, and I almost immediately regretted the decision while attempting to divert carbonated burps away from my schoolmate’s face during an awkward slow dance to some Boys II Men ballad. (As an aside, I’m not sure why my prepubertal self was dancing to “I’ll Make Love To You” in middle school, but that’s a topic for another day.)

While I had a genuine appreciation and love for my mother growing up, my awe and gratitude have deepened in adulthood. I’m now living the fruits of my mother’s labor, and that includes the innovative nutrition wisdom and ritual she infused into our home.

Like a mindbodygreen “OG”, my mom was prioritizing my mind, body, soul, and environment before that was even the “in” thing to do. My brother and I are better for it. To my truly sage mother (who could probably be an honorary dietitian), I thank you and love you. Happy Mother’s Day to you, and to all of the truly phenomenal mothers we honor today (and every day).