Recently, I found myself at a children’s birthday party—because let’s be honest, if you have kids under seven, birthday parties are basically a second home. The festivities were just beginning, and thankfully, none of the kiddos were in full meltdown mode yet. My 4-year-old son, Max, had already kicked off the fun by declaring another child a “Silly Goose.” Seizing the moment, I made a beeline for the food table before everything got touched, licked, or otherwise compromised.
At these gatherings, the food spread is typically impressive, as parents seem to relish outdoing each other from one party to the next. I’m all for this friendly competition; it means more delicious treats for me! My plate quickly filled up with an eclectic mix of meatballs, spanakopita, garlic bread, Margherita pizza, and a few fruits and veggies to maintain the illusion of healthy eating.
During my culinary adventure, another mom remarked that she was starving because she had “forgotten” to eat lunch. She mentioned that this was a frequent occurrence for her and that her husband often had to remind her to grab a bite. Honestly, I found this notion utterly absurd—this gathering was my second lunch of the day!
I can’t recall a single time when I’ve forgotten to eat, and that certainly hasn’t changed since becoming a mom. With my already limited sleep, there’s no way I could function on an empty stomach. Food is my fuel; it’s what gets me out of bed when Max comes charging in at 6:24 AM. It provides the energy I need to juggle packing his lunch, reminding him for the umpteenth time to get dressed, and even separating LEGOs (which I may or may not do with my teeth).
Food also gives me the patience to navigate the chaos of children’s birthday parties. As long as I’ve had my “three squares” for the day, I can manage the bounce house and keep an eye on Max while he plays. “Max, watch out for the other kids!” I can soothe him when the balloon animal he waited so long for pops, and I can control the cake-cutting frenzy with a firm, “Hold on! Your turn is next!”
Even if, by some miracle, I were to forget about lunch until 2:30 PM, I’m convinced that simply walking into the kitchen would trigger a food miracle. The pantry would swing wide open, the fridge would hum to life, and fresh apples would magically roll into my hands.
You know those survival shows where people are lost in the wilderness, living off little drops of water and celebrating finding a scrap of food days later? I would probably perish long before they captured my dramatic demise on camera. And if I had Max with me, it would be game over even sooner.
Forget to eat? I’d be far more likely to forget to breathe!
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In summary, the idea of forgetting to eat is utterly foreign to me. As a mom, food is not just a necessity; it’s the foundation that keeps me grounded and capable of handling the delightful chaos that comes with parenting.
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