I recently found myself at a children’s birthday celebration. If you have little ones under the age of 7, you know that birthday parties are practically a part of the parenting routine. The festivities were just getting started, and while the kids weren’t yet in full chaos mode, my 4-year-old son Max had already set the tone by calling another child a “Stinkyhead.” Seizing the opportunity, I made my way to the food table before everything had been touched, licked, and returned.
At these events, the food spread is often impressive, as moms seem to relish the challenge of outdoing each other’s culinary efforts from the last party. Honestly, I’m all for this competitive spirit; it just means more delicious options for me!
I piled my plate with an array of international delights: meatballs, spanikopita, cheesy garlic bread, herb dip, Margherita pizza, and of course, the obligatory fruit and veggie platter to maintain my “I eat healthy” facade. Another mom nearby mentioned that she was starving because she had forgotten to eat lunch. She claimed this happened frequently, even admitting that her husband sometimes had to bring her meals as a reminder.
I was astonished. This was the most absurd thing I had ever heard. I mean, I was already indulging in my second lunch of the day!
For me, forgetting to eat is an alien concept. Since becoming a mom, I’ve never once let a meal slip my mind. Operating on limited sleep means I could never manage on an empty stomach. Food is my morning motivator when Max bursts in at 6:24 AM, ready to start the day. It fuels me as I juggle packing his school lunch, reminding him (yet again) to get dressed, and sorting through LEGOs with my teeth. Food gives me the energy to drag myself into the shower and finally change out of the same t-shirt I’ve worn for three days. It’s what allows me to patiently wrangle my son into the car for school, all while he insists on building a LEGO masterpiece with just a few pieces.
Food is my lifeline at birthday parties. As long as I’ve eaten my “three squares,” I can handle the toy store run, buy, and hide the gift, and manage the inevitable tantrum when Max discovers it. On party day, like today, with Margherita pizza and juicy meatballs settling in my stomach, I can take charge at the bounce house and keep an eye out for Max. “Watch out for Sophie!” I shout. I can comfort him when the balloon animal he waited ten minutes for pops, and I can oversee the cake-cutting ritual with a firm, “Be patient! Your slice is coming!” Even during the ride home, when the goody bag spills its contents and those fifty-cent toys scatter, I can remain composed while Max cries for his toy to be fixed “right now!”
I accomplish all of this because I’m a mom who “remembers to eat.” I’ve found that a satisfied stomach equals a capable mother.
Even if, by some cosmic twist of fate, it were suddenly 2:30 PM and I hadn’t thought about lunch, I’m pretty sure that just walking into the kitchen would trigger a glorious spectacle: the pantry doors would swing open, the fridge would hum and light up, and the apples on the counter would roll into my hands, already peeled!
You know those reality shows where people reenact survival scenarios, living off tiny sips of water and celebrating when they finally catch a meal like roast skunk? I would literally perish before they even got the camera footage back to the editing room. And if Max were with me on that adventure, my demise would come even sooner.
Forget to eat? I’d sooner forget to breathe!
In summary, the idea of forgetting to eat is foreign to most busy parents, especially those of young children. Food is not just sustenance; it’s a vital part of parenting that fuels our day-to-day activities and keeps us grounded amid the chaos.
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