I’m pretty sure you just shuddered when you read that. And if you read ‘Meal Planning’ and a shiver didn’t go up and down your spine, then you have no idea how much I envy you. I will happily shop for the food. I will happily cook the food. I do not mind cleaning up the food. But, oh my God, if you could only know how much time a Mother’s Brain is thinking about FOOD and what’s for dinner, and what’s going in lunch boxes and who gets what snack and we had apples for lunch should we have grapes for dinner...you just might be nicer to her. Does your brain sound like mine? See below.
The Thought Process of the Meal Planner:
Okay. This week. Let’s see. I could make that, but we just had it last week, but it’s so easy and Picky Eater won’t protest too greatly. But Good Eater requested this and why shouldn’t she be rewarded for not having a mental breakdown when a vegetable is presented on her plate? Okay, so we’ll have that tonight and Picky Eater can just deal with his shit. Then tomorrow, let’s see, I could make that, but I really don’t want to eat all those carbs, but I know everyone will eat that and Husband will probably be really happy about it so I guess I could just put my part over lettuce because lettuce is the new bread and I’ll just be jealous of everyone else at the table. Let’s see...next night...hmmm...I could make that, no...just had that. How about this? Oh God, I would rather stab my ears with a fork than listen to the complaining about serving that for dinner. Oh...what about this? That sounds delicious and healthy and somewhat kid friendly...oh wait Husband doesn’t like sweet potatoes. But why should I care if He doesn’t like them? Why can’t I just have some fucking sweet potatoes once in a while? I’m just going to do it. I’m going to make that. Okay....so....let’s see. What’s next? Okay...um...what can I make...let me think...anyone have any requests? No? Okay, um...I could do...um...something new? Yes! Something new. Let’s see. Let me thumb through this cookbook. Oooo...that looks good, except Picky Eater...oh Good Lord he would eat absolutely none of that. Ohhh....yum...I could make that...if I wanted to be rewarded with whining. Oh, how about this? Yes...that looks good. Good Eater will probably eat that, Husband should like that, Picky Eater will...um...shit.
Fuck it. We’re having pizza.
And repeat. Day after day...week after week...for, apparently, THE REST OF MY LIFE.