Don’t you even, for one single solitary second, come on my page to check my lunch inspiration, and feel bad about yourself. Don’t do it.
Nothing separates us. I am NOT a better parent because I cut fruit into shapes and arrange it in a bento box. You are NOT a bad parent if all your budget allows for is bologna sandwiches in a ziploc bag, or your kid refuses to eat anything except for pepperoni sticks. At the end of the day, every single one us is just trying to do our best to raise KIND womb trophies. That’s it. Here’s a helpful list:
What makes someone a good parent?
Offering your child food in regular intervals (if they actually eat it is another story but really, not your forking problem)
Worrying about being a good parent
Loving your child
What makes someone a bad parent?
Not feeding your child(ren)
Not loving your child at least sometimes
Like anyone, I have good days and not-as-good days. I have organic rainbow pasta with expensive cheese and fresh vegetable days and “leftover A&W chicken strips & packaged snacks” sorta days. I yell at my kids. I have to apologize to my kids. I get frustrated and often feel like I’m one forking tantrum away from an atomic meltdown. I send my kids to bed when I’m angry and then tip-toe back in with tears in my eyes to kiss them 500x. I know you do the same.
So if you have a wicked Internet worthy lunch today, huge fist bump to you. If you only managed the bare minimum, I hear lemon lollipops can ward off scurvy and also great work putting in the effort you’re able to. I love you all.
I’ve learned a few things about bedtime as a parent.
First off, bedtime is the #1 leading cause of dehydration in children. Even say the B word and everyone starts sniveling about how they’re hungry and thirsty and surely going to die in the night if they don’t receive more sustenance immediately.
Two – it’s a rookie move to let your kid read the bedtime stories. It’s all fun and games until Wonky Donky meets up with Pete the Cat and then some random queen shows up and you’re looking at your watch like it might speak up and send help.
Three – you can ruin your kid’s whole entire life by offering the incorrect pyjamas to them and suggesting they might be warmer in something else.
Four – “maybe” is the word sent by the Devil himself. If you say maybe to something hypothetically speaking, your kids will for sure 100% take it as a true blood oath never to be broken. Tread lightly.
Naïvely, I thought bedtime was just calming getting tiny humans dressed and washed and tucked into bed when really it’s more like everyone’s screaming in Russian and nothing makes sense and it doesn’t really matter what you do because you’re gonna see these kids again in 10 minutes when they sneak back outta bed “wif a question” like the turd that won’t flush.
If toddlers waking up at 2:15am screaming at the top their lungs that their “legs are spicy” sounds like a super fun thing, then definitely go ahead and have kids. Turns out it’s actually forking hard to explain the concept of pins and needles in the middle of the night to a 2.5yo whose acting like an octupus being murdered in cold blood. In related news, today might be the day I learn if Starbucks will fill a bubba keg with espresso. Stay tuned.
If you’ve found yourself here and things like bacon and cuss words tend to offend you, you might want to re-think those two life strategies because I’m pretty sure you’re going to want to be friends with me.
I’m Rachel. I’m a Snack Bitch to two womb trophies by day, and a work-at-home mama by night. I’m married to a man who travels extensively for work, so I’m a bit of a lukewarm mess solo parenting most of the time. I’m also a digital creator, a bento box maker, (not a candlestick maker), and a writer of all things crafty, foodie, humour-y, life-y and parent-y. I’m authentic, sarcastic, hilarious, and a little messy – aren’t we all, though?
I think about food way too much, love making things, drink too much diet coke, and spend more time than I care to admit laughing at memes on the internet. I believe weekends are best spent at the local Farmer’s Market, followed by embracing my inner sloth and becoming one with my bed. I’m fluent in sarcasm, and humour is the way to my heart.
Here’s what you’ll find on my blog – healthy-ish bento box meal ideas for your little crotch fruit, some bomb-ass recipes that I mostly make up in my head, and hilarious stories from my actual real day to day life. Basically a metric shit-ton of fun stuff, so pull up a seat because I can’t wait to interact with all you forkers.
Thanks for popping by, you bloody champs. Drop me a line sometime.