At one of my final appointments before having Hallie, my doctor asked if I worked. I told her that I work from home designing blogs and writing one myself. She then asked if I had adequate childcare lined up. “Well…me,” I replied. She snickered and told me to line up extra care stat. She also told me how to up my dessert game with a newborn. Her secret: puff pastry.

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I didn’t heed her childcare advice, though I should have. That’s a long story for another day. But I did take her dessert advice. “Pick up high-quality puff pastry from the store,” she said. “Cut it out, score it, give it a nice egg wash, and sprinkle liberally with coarse sugar. While that’s baking, cut up your fresh berries. Sprinkle with a little sugar and set aside. Just before serving, make homemade whipped cream. It’s so simple and fresh. Even my Parisian friend approves.” I’d just finished reading Bringing up Bébé, so I soaked up every word, hoping I’d turn into Pamela Druckerman, the author best described as a sophisticated, laid back, Parisian by address, mother.

I’m not sure Pamela would have passed me in her lesson on pausing. French mothers practice much restraint before picking up their crying baby. It teaches them to self-sooth. I thought I was doing great until Kevin recapped our nights. From 10 pm–7 am, I turned into a robot. Before the first crack of her cry, I’d pop out of bed to feed her. In my defense, I was certain she’d been crying for hours. I am was a heavy sleeper.

But what I lacked in restraint, I made up for at mealtimes. The book is packed away in a box right now, but I’m fairly certain all pages regarding food are dog-eared. I fell in love with the French philosophy. Food, though nourishing, is also meant to be social and shared around a table. Three meals and one snack are sufficient; a little anticipation is a good thing. Vegetables and/or fruit serve as the first course. And desserts and sweet treats are allowed in the context of set mealtimes.

So we bought Hallie a chair that pulls up to the table. Kev called it pricey; I called it an investment. As soon as she started eating table food, she ate with us. Her fine motor skills trumped her gross motor skills, so she was particularly good at feeding herself early on. We kept and still keep to a meal schedule, though somehow she weasels in an additional snack when her daddy gets home from work. And dessert, that’s a prime tool we use around here to influence behavior, especially her vegetable eating behavior.

Mealtimes are filled with lots of rules these days. Aside from the aforementioned, we have rules like: no throwing food on the floor, no standing in your chair, and say please (or as she says, peeeaasss). These rules aren’t meant to stifle. They’re meant to keep things sacred.

Meaningful conversations aren’t happening around the table right now, but we’re creating a space for it. And if serving dessert means we’ll stay here a bit longer, so be it.

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This blog post is part of a paid SocialMoms Wolf blogging program. The opinions and ideas expressed here are my own. Visit reclaimthekitchen.com for more inspiration. Join the revolution. Make strawberry puff pastry bites and tag them with #reclaimthekitchen and #therealfauxmartha.