Making school lunches doesn't need to feel like Iron Chef!

Is anyone else stressed out about Back to School? My eldest is going into preschool and my littlest is going into playschool/day care... And I'm feeling such anxiety about the first day of school...

You know, the basic anxieties surrounding such questions as:

How will the first day drop off go? Will I cry too?

Are they going to have teachers they like? Please be a loving, wonderful, giving, amazing teacher...No pressure!

Will they make friends? Please have nice, sweet friends and be a good friend!

Will they be happy? 

That's all there, running through my mind... But those aren't the biggest sources of anxiety... The biggest source of anxiety is related to being organized enough to pack their lunches.....

Where will I find those 15 precious minutes it takes to prep?

What will I make, day in and day out?

Am I organized enough to plan for a whole week?

Do we pack lunches the night before? Day of?

What if they don't like it, will they starve?

Do I need labels? Thermoses? Tupperware?

Ziplock or reusable bags?

Love notes in each one?

It's enough to cause slight hyperventilation...

Then I realize they are psyched about the cartoon lunch boxes I got them! They love my smiley cheese and tomato faces so, I can pack do-it-yourself smiley faces! I should try to be environmentally conscious cuz heck it's the right thing to do... I'm not going to get every lunch perfectly right and maybe in my tactical approach to this, I'm missing a big opportunity! 

Yes, the purpose is to nourish my little men, and I've been doing that for a while now... But these lunches can also be a nice way to make the distance between us feel a little smaller during the day... This doesn't need to feel like Iron Chef!

I can find my unique ways of making it so when they open their lunch boxes, they find a little bit of home inside... In the way I slice the cheese or the way I spice up the tuna sandwich. A little something familiar in an unfamiliar place. A kind of lunch that feels like a hug...

Ok... I'm feeling better... I can do this... I can find those 15 minutes and pour my heart into a tuna sandwich. I will survive lunch prep... One hug-in-a-box, full-of-love, homemade lunch at a time. 

Sand with a side of blueberries

A few Fridays ago, I had the day off, and decided to be spontaneous and scoop my boys and toys and towels and chairs and snacks and drinks, and diapers and sunscreen and bug spray, and hats and just whimsically jump in the car and head to the beach! After 90 minutes I was ready to go!

 A good friend came with her 3 girls. We had 5 kids under 5 to two of us. I felt vulnerable...

The walk from the car to the beach was epic. Together, she and I looked like we were Sherpas to a team of 15 explorers rising to the top of Everest.  We scuttled through a crazy crowded beach, and settled at the water, arms pulsating from carrying our cargo, sweat on our brow.  All our mini travelers arrived safely, walking through the lanes of cars and over the hot sand. Not a tear shed along the way - a miraculous feat!

Some want to swim, some want to sit, some want to eat blueberries that become slightly sandy, some want to eat sand, with a side of blueberries. We spray sunscreen, put on hats, more spray, please keep your hat on....   You need to go potty? But we just did 15 minutes ago, trek to the slightly yucky public bathroom again and again, over hot sand, can I pleeeeease tell my child to pee in the ocean? Don't step on that sand castle, no I didn't pack the blue shovel, I packed the green one and the white one.

I came home in need of a chair, a beer, and a moment of silence. But in the midst of it all were the slivers of sweetness that I had had a hankering for that very morning.

The kids were kind to each other, holding hands here and there to navigate the cars and the crowds. They created, imagined, dug and sculpted. They discovered a love of splashing in the waves and a crab in their bucket (dead maybe, but they didn't let it spoil the magic.)
 My eldest played frisbee and made a new friend. My little one giggled as we played in the sand.  My eldest and I shared "I love you" winks from afar, and my little one, nestling his head in the crook of my neck, gave me the sweetest, tightest squeeze...

And so it was, my perfect day at the beach.

A beta version of me

This week, my kids have been going to bed later and later each night… The impediments of summer, but also part of what makes summer a little magical… But every night, they've been pushing the envelope with the constant flow of procrastination tactics! I mean, if pushing off bedtime was a national sport, college would be paid for!  “I’m hungry, I want milk, I’m not tired, I want to play, I have to go potty, I need my mimi (blanket), where’s Stillwater (stuffed panda), I neeeeeed Stillwater, is that thunder?, I’m scared, can we read a book?, can I watch Dinosaur Train?, I don’t want to brush my teeth just yet, can I finish this puzzle?”.

And at first I can take it. I’m ready, I’m patient,  I’m smiling. I’m “pre-9PM” Mom.

Pre-9PM Mom explains that their brains grow in the middle of the night, their muscles form and they get stronger, smarter and healthier in their sleep, and that sleeping will keep them happy and healthy. Pre-9PM Mom explains that they get to see friends in dreamland, and can reminisce about their day, can imagine flying in the sky or being at the beach. Pre-9PM Mom tells stories, sings songs, and asks them what kind of burrito they are as they lay wrapped all snuggly in their blanket and pretends to take a big bite out of them when they declare they are a cheese burrito.

But at 9pm, something happens… It’s like Cinderella’s stroke of midnight, or like dusk in a vampire movie...

Post-9PM Mom shows up… The stress of the next day starts to set in, the to-do lists start to run through her mind… Post-9PM Mom's voice drops an octave and her eyes turn serious. Post-9PM Mom means business!  

Post-9PM Mom NEEDS to come out if these kids are EVER to get to sleep…  

Or does she?

I'm working on an 8PM version of myself...  Surely I can wrap things up before the strike of 9… Surely I can put them to bed before I lose the incredible intellect and concentration it takes to outsmart a 4 year old.  

But knowing I will go to work before they wake up, and knowing I won't see them until dinner the next night, I too want the extra book, the extra song and the extra burrito snuggle.  

Maybe the 8PM version of me (she is still in beta) should be focused on disciplining ME instead of them...