I am about to confess to (yet another) sin that drags me farther off the “Mother-of-the-Year” list. Why? I really don’t know. I guess I feel the need to confess something, and this seems innocuous enough compared to the others.
I hate lunch. I hate making it. Eating it. Thinking about it. Thinking what to make. It’s not as interesting as dinner, it usually falls right after I’ve finally cleaned up from breakfast, and it’s boring. I hate making the kids’ sack lunches. Trying to think of something my utterly ridiculously picky kidlets will actually eat in the 12 minutes they are allotted at school, while trying to make it healthy and fortifying enough to get them through to snack time at home. Trying to please uber-picky MissE who only wants sonwedge and Costco muffins these days.
Blech. I hate lunch.
I feel better now.