“Kain na! Kain Na Tayo!”: The Hidden Language of Parental Love

 “Kain na! Kain Na Tayo!”

The Hidden Language of Parental Love

by Ms. Eugenia C. Martin  

Growing up, I often heard either "Kain na" or "Kain na tayo." At the time, they sounded like ordinary reminders that food was ready. Today, I hear them differently. As a child, those words meant it was time to wash my hands, leave whatever I was doing, and head to the dining table.

The school was only a short walk from our house, so I came home for lunch every day. While some students ate in the canteen or brought packed lunches, I was fortunate to return home to a meal prepared by my mother. And if lunch was not enough, there was usually merienda to bring back to school so I would not go hungry before dismissal. At the time, I simply enjoyed the food.

I never stopped to think about everything that happened before those words were spoken. Only years later did I begin to understand the deeper meaning hidden behind them. By the time my Nanay called us to the table, much of the work had already been done. She had planned the meal. She had considered what ingredients were available and what the family could afford. She had gone to the market or prepared what was already in the kitchen. She had washed, peeled, sliced, measured, stirred, seasoned, and tasted. She had stood over a hot stove while the rest of us went about our day. Then, after everyone had eaten, she would clean up.

As a child, I saw the meal. As an adult, I see the labor behind it. More importantly, I see the love behind it. I witnessed the planning. The budgeting. The preparation. The time. The effort. The money spent to ensure that nobody in the family went hungry.

Especially my Daddy. 😊 He had a healthy appetite and genuinely enjoyed food. Every meal was appreciated, every dish received with gratitude. He was generous by nature and lived with an abundance mentality. He believed that food was meant to be shared and that no guest should leave the house hungry.

Looking back, I realize that my mother's careful preparation and my father's joyful appreciation complemented one another. One expressed love by preparing the meal; the other expressed love by making sure there was enough for everyone around the table.

Together, they taught me that food is more than nourishment. It is generosity. It is hospitality. It is gratitude. And most of all, it is love made visible.

My parents were not the kind of people who constantly said, "I love you." Like many parents of their generation, affection was rarely announced. Love was seldom declared.

Yet another question came to mind: How many times did I hear my parents say, "I love you"? Very few. How many times did I hear them say, "Kain na" or "Kain na tayo"? Countless times. Thousands, millions, perhaps. Every breakfast before school. Every lunch break at home. Every dinner after a long day. Every family gathering. Every holiday celebration. Every ordinary day in between. And it was not only said to me. Whenever my friends happened to be at our house during mealtime, my parents would immediately call out, "Kain na kayo." Sometimes my friends would politely decline. Sometimes they would stay and join us. But the invitation was always there. No one was expected to leave hungry. Looking back, I realize that those words carried a deeper message than an invitation to eat. They meant:

"I thought of you."

"I prepared this for you."

"I don't want you to go hungry."

"You are welcome here."

"You belong."

Perhaps that is why I now hear those words differently. Maybe "Kain na tayo" was my parents' way of saying, "I love you." Not through grand speeches. Not through dramatic gestures. But through meals carefully prepared, merienda packed for school, a place reserved at the table, and the assurance that someone was thinking about me long before I arrived to eat.

Today, whenever I hear those words or find myself saying them, I no longer hear only an invitation to eat. I hear an invitation to belong. Because food nourishes the body. But gathering around a table nourishes something deeper.

How many times did I hear my parents say, "I love you"? Very few.

How many times did I hear them say, "Kain na tayo"? Countless times.

Perhaps my parents did not say "I love you" very often.

Instead, they said it two or three words at a time:

"Kain na! Kain na tayo!"

 

  #LessonsFromMyMothersKitchen #TheKitchenClassroom #EugeniaWrites  

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Lessons from My Mother's Kitchen (my Father's & my Lola’s Kitchen, Too!) Part 6 is a reflection series on life, learning, family, and the wisdom hidden in ordinary moments. Sometimes the most important lessons are not found in recipes, but in the people who teach us how to grow. New reflections are published every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. 

Eugenia C. Martin (Ms. Eugene) is a Registered Guidance Counselor, Licensed Professional Teacher, wife, mother, songwriter, gardener, traveler, and home cook. Her life's lessons have come from many classrooms—the school, the counseling room, her parents' kitchen, the family garden, and the backyard shoe-making business where she first learned the values of perseverance, entrepreneurship, and community. Through her writing, she reflects on mental health, parenting, education, relationships, faith, music, gardening, and the journeys that continue to shape her understanding of people and life.