For some reason getting up at 5am to be at work by 7am is far easier than having a day off and doing kindy drop off by 8.30am. I hate kindy drop off with a vengeance. In fact, I hate everything about getting ready for kindy. I can meet a deadline on an important job at work with less stress than I can prepare a ‘school house’ lunch box. Seriously.
Since when did putting together a kindy/school lunch box become so complicated?
Since I had the fussiest child on earth.
Does anyone else add fruit to a school lunch box for show knowing full well that said child will not touch, let alone eat it? No? Let’s be honest here! I have to do batches of stewed apples on weekends to disguise into weetbix in order to get fruit in these boys. C has always had a strange phobia of touching some textures of foods (namely fruit and vegetables – convenient?) so disguising has become part of my repertoire. School house lunches on the other hand are a bit of a nightmare for me with a child who only really likes white foods. Bread (plain, no butter or any other spread/filling must go anywhere near it), rolls (as above), biscuits (must be baked to avoid any ‘may contain peanuts’ warnings which is fine but means many a late night panic of baking before a kindy day and then there is the big question of how many biscuits are acceptable a day when it is all they will probably eat?), chips (plain, usually come home untouched and soggy). I then find myself topping up with things that look good but will be uneaten for the most part (sweetcorn fritters, potatoes cubed and seasoned, even pizza!). Why I go to so much effort when I know he won’t touch them is beyond me (ok, maybe because I hope that one day he might try it and surprise me but mostly because I can’t exactly send him off with three slices of plain bread and 5 biscuits).
This does not go unnoticed by the kindy teachers who have approached me with concern at how little he eats. So stress #1 leads to stress #2 – drop off. For some unknown reason I can never get them out the door in time. The juggling act of getting them up, dressed, fed and out the door just continually turns to chaos. Then juggling two children into the building and dragging the kicking and screaming two year old out of the sand pit and back out the door while the three year old is standing there saying ‘Ok mum, BYE now’ in a ‘please hurry up you are cramping my style’ tone of voice, is just the icing on the cake. And yet all the other mums (and dads) look so relaxed while I feel like I have run a marathon. I come home literally exhausted and it’s not even 9am.
Am I the only one out there or is this a universal problem that we are all just good at disguising?