You're doing great.
Somehow I don't remember reading in the pregnancy books that once baby was birthed and that whole nursing/bottle thing had ceased being such an inconvenience that the now child-person would still need to eat several times each day, like real food, and that the responsibility of preparing said meals would fall squarely on my shoulders.
I'm sure you were way smarter than me and you knew this inevitable truth was waiting for us. What I don't think either of us expected was the way our society would turn "Mommying" into a competitive sport with events like Pinterest Crafts, Accelerated Reading, Chart Creating and Impossible Photo Posing.
But worst of all is the Organic Super Chef Mom event.
Nothing makes me feel like I would take home the title of Worst Mom Ever more than hearing all about the mama who harvested the organic kale from the garden in her backyard which she pruned and tended in between her cardio barre classes and baby yoga only to serve it on a plate to her perfect little children with a side of goat cheese and hummus.
I'm not knocking her by any means, but my oh my....that's just so not me.
I'm the mom who gives her kids pancakes at the coffee table so they can watch Curious George and I can brew my coffee in peace.
But it's ok because I drizzled sugar free syrup on their pancakes. So it evens out.
To my fellow Blue Box Mama I sound the cry of "Solidarity!" Because when we try to branch out and serve the kids a homemade version of their beloved neon yellow pasta, it never has quite the same impact. And plus, the clean up just isn't worth the effort in my book.
In fact, cooking in general seems to me to be rather overrated.
If your children are anything like mine, the dinner table doubles as a battle ground and I have found myself with tears in my eyes more than once when the kids have treated a meal that I really worked hard on with little more respect than the kibble in the dog's bowl. Heck, my three year old has been known to eat rubbish off the pavement in the parking lot of Target and then sit at the table for two hours later that evening because he refuses to take a bite of cauliflower.
And we learned the hard way that if we force him to take a bite of a potato....he vomits on his plate.
I want a personal chef for my birthday. And a housekeeper. And a personal trainer. (Sorry....I got distracted.)
Be that as it may, I'm still a good mom. And so are you, Blue Box Mama.