One Lunch At A Time

7am Monday morning.

I’m still sitting in my bed watching the weather station sipping my lukewarm coffee which thoughtful hubby brought up to me knowing the struggle I was about to face for the next nine months.

Nope, not pregnancy – which I willingly did six times. This is much worse. School lunches! I abhor them. Throughout the last ten years starting at only one lunch with nary a complaint I have now graduated to six lunches, five times a week, four weeks a month and ten months a year – give or take a month for good behavior.

I line up the (whole loaf) brown bread (I try to be semi-healthy) and begin my inquest of who likes or dislikes what on their sandwiches. “None for me. Shannon usually eats it.” My oldest and now high school student responds. This now explains why I never had any complaints previous since she never ate them. Hmm perfect, I get toast this morning.

“Lettuce, mustard and no meat please.” Requests my nine years old who is nothing if not consistent – but can a child really survive on lettuce and mustard? “NO MUSTARD! You always put mustard on mine and I hate it.” Complains my eleven year old. She’s wrong – I don’t forget, but I tend to get her lunch kit mixed up with my mustard loving daughter. Note to self: buy new lunch kits.

“Turkey with salt and pepper.” My grade seven daughter asks. Oops, forgot the turkey - have only salami. Decide not to foreclose this information and wish for the best. “Peanut butter with honey and Cheese Whiz. Lots of Cheese Whiz.” Food loving son asks around a mouthful of frozen pancakes. I thank my lucky stars that I have only one son or I would be eaten out of house and home. I remind him that peanut butter is not permitted in school (I understand why, but it would really make my lunch torture so much easier if pb&j was allowed).

“Mommy, surprise me. I love whatever you make.” Youngest and most loved replies with a hug around my middle as she senses my frustration. I am aware this too shall pass. This is her first year of school lunches. She is blissfully unaware of the lunch monotony.

I know you all think to just let them make their own lunches. I have ventured down this avenue but some reason it never works out. Eventually, I will go to my standby of “semi-homemade” blueberry muffins (I throw in some flax seed and fiber to appease my guilt) which they will soon despise and the thrill of lunch trading begins. I wrap the last sandwich in crappy non-clinging saran wrap grateful that morning one is complete and ask, “So when does the school canteen open?”