Ruth Walker: 'It has fallen to the children to take family mealtimes in hand'

I T'S FUNNY (actually, perhaps funny's the wrong word. Ironic? Irresponsible?), but for one so passionate about eating a healthy, balanced diet, my children, bless their cholesterol-clogged hearts, eat like pigs.

Worse than pigs, probably, when you consider most farm animals at least have Defra guidelines ensuring they are well cared for and fed appropriately.

There is, however, no brooding five-a-day government tsar standing over my lot in judgment as, yet again it seems, we chow down on pizza with our fingers in front of the TV. Or make do with a toasted sandwich. Or cereal.

Don't get me wrong, they haven't been complaining. But my own sense of guilt and utter inadequacy is acute. I mean well, of course. I buy lots of fresh fruit and veg. Sometimes they even eat it before it wilts sadly at the back of the fridge.

We've reached a compromise on bread so now they eat that half and half stuff. But I've given up on trying to get them to eat brown rice because, frankly, let's not pretend it's anything other than disgusting. A bit like those wood chippings you get in playgrounds only less appetising. And harder to digest.

Things always start well enough. I do a big supermarket shop and it's all cooked dinners and nutritiously balanced snacks for a few days.

But as the week progresses and the fridge slowly empties of all but bendy courgettes and soggy spinach, the choices become more limited.

And since I, clearly, have no intention of improving matters until I can eventually drag my sorry, neglectful self off to Asda, it has fallen to the children to take family mealtimes in hand.

The Teenager volunteered for kitchen duty first. On her menu: tuna filo parcels, followed by Moroccan chicken and cous cous. Impressive, no? Turns out she needed to practice the dishes for her home economics prelim, but I'm not complaining. Neither were her brothers, who ate it all. Even the chickpeas.

Now, regular readers (yes, Mother, I mean you) will know I hate to complain - a critical comment rarely passes my lips. But if I had to quibble, it might be to suggest that next time she doubles the ingredients.

"Feeds two," the recipe clearly stated. Shame there were four of us. However, it was better than a bowl of Cheerios (which we had afterwards, since we were all still starving).

Not to be outdone, the Mild One went next. Chicken curry this time. He got bored half-way through chopping the onion so I had to finish. Then, with renewed vigour, he decided to add cinnamon to the mix.

I'm still picking bits of stick out of my teeth a week on. But let's not be negative. It was an excellent attempt. And a heck of an improvement on a cheese and ham toastie.

With competition heating up, The Wild One was keen to follow up with his own effort: chicken wrapped in bacon, with sweet chilli sauce and potato wedges.

Sadly for us all, apathy (on my part) has derailed the family cook-off somewhat. I haven't got round to buying the ingredients yet. Too busy, you see. Maybe next week. In the meantime, I think there's a pizza in the freezer.

This article was first published in Scotland On Sunday, 20 February, 2011