Lunch lady

I remember when one of the kids was heading out into the cold and I was helping zip a coat. Maybe kindergarten, possibly first grade. Todd called me out on it and asked what was happening. We weren’t the kind of parents who coddled or did anything for our kids that they could possibly do for themselves. I sheepishly responded that I was just helping him, it was such a cold day. An isolated instance, we figured they could do it themselves, ask for help, or be uncomfortable. Same with even bringing a coat in the first place. We’ve always been the kind to allow and push our kids to do things on their own and for themselves; for the most part, we figure they can handle their stuff.

But this year I regressed. The kids were supposed to leave ideally by 6:20 to make it to their early-morning class by 6:30, but as the year stretched on, they wouldn’t leave till 6:45 or later. Like a lot of parents, we were flummoxed. The kids can do it. They wake up on time for jobs, hunting, trips, school, all sorts of things. We told them how disrespectful it was. We told them a few minutes of extra sleep really doesn’t make that much of a difference. We told them ways they could prepare better. I berated myself for not having taught them better manners or how to be more responsible. I had no solution and went in circles with it all.

Until I thought, I’m up at 5:30 anyway, I can totally make them breakfast and lunch. In fact, it’s the least I could do. When I thought about it in that light, I berated myself for being so self-centered all these years and just exercising when I could’ve been helping my kids out!

So I started making them breakfasts: egg, ham, and cheese sandwiches, cream of wheat, leftovers from dinner, breakfast casserole, smoothies, oatmeal, toast, breakfast burritos, yogurt parfaits, muffins, bagels, whatever I could find. Lunches were the same: pb and jam sandwiches, maybe turkey and cheese, vegetables with tiny containers of dip, cut up apples, energy balls, homemade fruit leather, chips or crackers, little baggies of raisins and peanuts and pretzels, salads with croutons separate, along with little containers of dressing, cookies and brownies, string cheese, pasta salad, yogurt, soup or chili in thermoses, muffins, granola bars, nothing fancy, just regular mom kind of lunch food.

I spent from 6-6:30 every weekday doing breakfasts, loading water bottles with water and piles of ice, starting the truck in frigid negative temps, and packing lunches. Even on Tuesdays when I would leave at 5, I’d pack their lunches the night before and make their sandwiches fresh before I left. And when he’d have a meet, I’d pack extra, making two sandwiches and a big batch of cookies for the road. It was fine, it became the routine, I had it in me, I just listened to my podcasts and got things handled. It was early, so I knew better than to expect any sort of acknowledgment or conversation, but we always had a prayer before they left, and that was just the way it went. For months.

Todd was always against it. And I knew our philosophy, of course, for sure, I was totally on board. But this was different, I thought. I hated that weren’t there for their teachers, and so if there was anything I could do, I would give up my value of teaching them independence in lieu of teaching them to be on time and to be respectful of their teachers’ time.

I don’t even know what the trigger was that made me want to end it all. Most likely I finally heard what Todd had been trying to tell me. And I realized all my assistance had been for nought. Nothing had changed. They were consistently late no matter what I did. So I just told them I was done. Dad and I would be on our walk in the mornings (mostly so I didn’t have to watch it) and they were on their own.

So here we are, the school year is over, and as I look back on our experiment, I still don’t know if there is a right or a wrong to it all. I think what happened was my values clashed. I wanted them to have healthy food, balanced meals. I wanted them to get to their class on time and not have to waste more of their precious morning time doing something I could easily help them with. I wanted them to have warm cars to drive to school in since we all have to park outside and so many winter mornings it’s below zero when they leave. I’m a stay-at-home mom, I have all day to do my things, this was the smallest of sacrifices, I wanted to help. I loved my reasons. And I still do. But Todd and I decided from the very beginning—even as we encouraged our babies to hold their own bottles and our toddlers to wipe and use knives safely—that we wanted to raise our kids to be able to leave us. We wanted them to be confident and capable on their own, and nearly every decision we’ve made in our parenting supports that one axiom.

So I met them halfway and bought all sorts of food that went against my values of homemade and minimal packaging and health. But they started doing their own lunches. I’d see Callum with his pre-packaged foods and cooler laid out the night before. I’d see B making a sandwich and gathering her granola bar and crackers. I have no idea what they ate for breakfast and we did away with saying a prayer. Todd and I just left with the dogs and they figured it out or went hungry or spent their money eating out, I have no idea. I just think this is better.  I could see an immediate change. We're back to being roommates, which is what feels best at this stage.  They're simply too old to be doted on like that.  Subconsciously, I think it feels empowering to be independent even though most kids' default is to want to take the easy way. 

So I guess what I learned is that I should’ve stuck with what we decided on long ago and that we had done with our other three. Maybe. I’m to the point in my mothering where I can pause take a look back and wonder what I would’ve done differently. I wonder if I should’ve been more nurturing, if I should’ve coddled more, if I should’ve done more for them. I wonder if they would’ve felt more loved and cared for. Did they feel like I didn’t care or that I was just lazy? Did I choose the right values to focus on? Should I have made exceptions? I have no idea. I can only look at where they are now and how they’re living as young adults. If I have a brave moment, I might ask them if they felt like it worked out ok or if we did it all wrong. For now, we are still muddling through, just trying to make the best decisions we can based on our hopes for their futures. I just hope that one day they’ll be in a place to understand why we did it the way we did and know that everything we did was out of love and to teach them how to be adults of their own someday.