Lunch Forever (and maybe why our parents always want to feed us) #30BrighterDays

An addendum to yesterday’s list of chores for my kids: packing lunches. I still pack their lunches. I packed my own lunch starting in third grade; usually a piece of baloney–dry, straight-up–on white bread with an apple chaser.

But I decided I might pack my kids lunches for ever.

Listen, I have zero desire to return to Life With Littles, however nowhere in tween/teen parenting can you find the pure satisfaction that comes from the thorough completion of all-child-needs attended to, as one does with a well-fed, straight out of the bath, wrapped in a hoodie-towel, sporting a fresh diaper on his butt and an enormous grin on his face baby.

Although not nearly as huggable as a fresh adoring baby, something about packing the kids’ lunches kinda sorta checks that box for me; putting servings of vegetables in tiny tupperware, a sandwich cozy in its own sandwich container, the little treat I know they’ll eat first, an ice pack keeping everything cool. Zip it up, hand it over, done and done.

Obviously feeding is nurturing; food is life, food is love, etc. Depending on the day, feeding my family can also feel like a gigantic pain in my ass.  But dang if it isn’t nice to feel a tiny bit of control as a parent of kids way too old for swaddling, with needs more complex than a Diego sippy cup can satisty,  in this nutso modern world. Maybe this is why our parents always want to feed us. Maybe this is why when my Grandma Jo would offer me food and I’d tell her I wasn’t hungry she’d say What does that have to do with anything? 

My kids might start buying their lunch this fall, but I got a coupon for lunch containers in the check-out line and I’m holding on to it.

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