Author: singlebusymommy

Let me just start by saying: when it is between a car and you, the car always wins. I tell this to J all the time now that she has a cell phone (somewhat) at her disposal (still under my watchful eye, of course). In this era of the device, I think that unknowingly, people who walk, run, or jog on streets with cars (vs. using the sidewalk—why wouldn’t you just walk on the sidewalk?), people who stare at their phone while walking in parking lots, crossing streets, or, frankly just walking anywhere, and (I hate to say it because we are supposed to “share” the road), bicyclists on the road among cars, are the bravest people I know. Maybe more like sitting ducks. And I am not one of them.

Why brave? Because everyone is on their cell phone, you just have to assume that. Regardless of the warnings to not text and drive, if I were walking on the side of the road, I would *presume* the oncoming car on my tail has a driver scrolling through an Instagram page and could easily veer off the road. And there I am walking, me vs. the car. Like I said, they win. Game over.

I say this because it drives me crazy seeing how careless people are and how quickly they could be dust. Think about that guy on a skateboard or motorized scooters with ear buds weaving through in traffic (I’ve see this), riding bikes with ear buds. These people are straight up legit on a suicide mission. But so are kids walking through parking lots, staring at their phone with—or without—earbuds.

Today I driving back after dropping J off at school and I get to a light. There in front of me is a young girl, say, 12 to 14 years old I’d guess, walking alone across the street, staring at her phone and then the light turns green. Obviously she started crossing the street late. Cars are sitting there beginning to take their foot off the brake and there she is oblivious, walking in front of a green light, while staring at her phone.

My first reaction was to yell at her to watch where she was going, to put her phone away and to never use her phone while crossing the street! I started to roll down my window but she walked too far away from me though to make sense of what I would have said. She was still not on the other side of the street as I drove away with cars behind me. But then I thought, instead I should just ask for her mom’s cell phone number and then pull over to let Mom know what her daughter just did. Oh my God! The light was green, she was walking in the street falling into her phone! She was already putting herself in danger by walking across a street when she was not supposed to. And she added yet another danger factor with the phone oblivious of the extremely dangerous situation she placed herself in to watch—I bet—a TikTok.

Parents: ding ding, this is a whole other danger aside from the obvious ones on the internet that we are all managing, watching over, with are kids, right? Are you talking to your children about not using them in parking lots and crossing streets and just plain old walking? Another day, I saw a little girl texting and she walked right over a Home Depot cart that was in her path and in an unusual spot, I agree, but that is why we LOOK WHERE WE ARE GOING INSTEAD OF OUR PHONES. She toppled over, not too hurt, but the fact is she was oblivious to her surroundings. Had she been looking she would have easily seen the cart and gone around it and not have a scab on her knee.

I am hoping she learned her lesson.

—SMB

I am trying to remember when the onslaught of “disposables” joined mainstream society and I’m talking in the U.S., specifically in California, where I grew up. It seems little by little, when I was a kid, more plastic throw away (use once and dump) items from razors to toothpicks and diapers to a ton more in between, spawned and reproduced exponentially. And these items continued to evolve into becoming more and more completely unnecessary luxury items we could easily do without.

Do you realize that these plastic items still exist way after you have tossed them? They do. I won’t get into disposable soiled diapers, but they’re out there on planet Earth.

Consider those plastic floss picks that have a pointy end and floss strewn between like a hack saw. Use once and throw away, seriously? We can’t just master dental floss with our fingers and make it work? Do we really need this extra plastic tool? Are we really that lazy? Learn the floss, you’ll master it. YouTube it. They’ll show you how.

Before the plastic “stop using so much of it!” crisis came to be and the concern that it was seeping into our food, I bought one of those bags of flossers and it still sits under the sink—frankly, I feel too guilty to use them and grimace at the thought of throwing them away. Pointy on one end with little ridges, imagine that thing floating in the ocean, its final destination. And as far as food containers go, I use glass exclusively.

But that is just one item, the floss hack saw thing. There are tons of disposable products: plastic everything, paper everything, to go boxes, fast food utensils, coffee cups, lids, caps on pens, pens, the list would be hundreds and hundreds of pages long.

But not just plastic do we toss in the garbage bin each day, there are oodles of paper products as well as cotton balls, ribbon, just pause for a moment and think about what you use and toss every day. Consider:

First thing in the morning:

Tissue, cotton ball, cotton swab, empty toothpaste tube, toilet paper, toilet paper roll, empty shampoo bottles, for starters.

Breakie (before noon):

Coffee K-Cup pod, or coffee filter, coffee cup, sugar packet, creamer (container), stirrer, napkin, paper towel, old sponge in the kitchen, yogurt container, in the trash it goes.

At the office (or wherever you go for the day):

More potential coffee cup waste, paper at your desk, junk mail, old email printed out, the box your supplies came in, paper clip box, it goes on and on.

Lunchies:

Food containers, food packages, more napkins, straws, cup, foil, plastics bags, plastic wrap, paper plate.

Dinner:

Take out containers, more napkins, food packages, plastic utensils.

And then, throughout the day, toilet paper, laundry soap containers, pet food cans, junk mail, envelops your bills come in that you pay online now.

You see where I am going here? We throw things out ALL DAY LONG.

So, here is the ask: when you can—when it works for you—exchange the throw away item with a permanent one, wash and reuse. Refuse the paper coffee cups at work and use a mug and wash afterward. Bring your utensils to work with your lunch, with a cloth napkin. It’s not that hard. Clean recyclable containers before your throw them in the recycle bin. If you don’t, the recycling center likely won’t either and they’ll just be tossed into the garbage.

Bring your shopping bags without fail. Get one of those compact ones you can stuff into that little crazy sack with the draw string and carry it around in our purse. You’ll forget to use it half the time, but you’ll probably remember more and more, the more you use it.

Use baby wash cloths (I love these things) to take the place of cotton balls for cleaning your face, ears, remove make up (use Jojoba oil for that). Replace sponges with washcloths with that net fabric on the flip side and wash/reuse.

Treat old glass jars (your salsa came in) like food containers. Just rinse it out, slap on some masking tape, and identify the contents with a Sharpie. So easy! And the masking tape comes right off.

You don’t have to go to places that make you crazy, just do more. Remember those plastic items live for 100s of years and are used for a matter of seconds in some cases.

You’ll feel good reducing and you’ll save money on all of those items you don’t have to buy anymore.

—SBM

This morning got off to a bad start when I woke up (not by the Snooze alarm as usual) but realizing there was no Snooze (after the first two presses), it was light outside, and we are late! Not the first time this has happened that my Atomic clock seemed to have “forgotten” to continue the Snooze cycle and more or less took its own advice and snoozed. As I awaited the next warning letting me know that I really need to get up, the alarm never rang and I was on my own.

This morning it happened again and I jumped out of bed at 7:19 AM (we normally leave the house at 7:30—at the very latest—and before we do I have cats to feed, lunch to fix, breakfast to make, a litter box to groom, me to get ready, and J to get up and ready to leave. And then I need remember to bring everything we need that day. I was left with approximately 11 minutes to do all of that—give or take.

It is at these times that we are at our gold medal efficiency best. Every moment is optimized, multitasking is in turbo, I can just hear the hum of speed in my head when I push the gear and screech from the starting line.

This morning was no different and while breakfast was cereal (brought into the car), the litter box wasn’t touched, my outfit was plain (no hose, no earnings), and I used the microwave to heat J’s lunch (I try to stay away from that thing) we managed to race out of the house by 7:32. No way! Yep. And, we managed to get to school before the 8:15 morning bell with time to spare.

However, I must point out that this stellar performance, which I have done more than once as a single busy mommy, a student, and a mess of other instances, there is always the potential of some obvious oversight or turbo-like catastrophic spill. Like the time I did all of that but arrived at J’s school and realized I forgot my shoes which sent me racing to Target, running into the store (barefoot) to buy a new pair. Or the time, as I was about to open the garage door, hands full, coffee in one, that fell, that spilled, that sprayed. Spilled coffee, ummm the deal is off, this mishap trumps everything else after it. Whatever it was you were off to do must be postponed. There is no other choice. Coffee stains.

Today, I thought I was at my turbo multitasking best and gave myself extra credit for packing my own lunch, a nice glass container of my slow cooked chicken tortilla soup. I got to the office carrying my purse and the shopping bag with lunch and entered the restroom to do my make up when, as I was about to set down the bag, it slipped from my hand I heard that certain flat glass break sound (even Pyrex breaks, I thought that stuff could be dropped off buildings and bounce). My eyes shot to the bag that was now a puddle of my soup, staining the sides of the bag, slowly seeping out of the broken glass.

There was a no save here. It was a 100% complete tosser: bag, lid (that no longer had a partner), and my delicious soup, that I was so looking forward to.

I walked out of the bathroom and crossed the lobby when the receptionist said “Good morning, how are you today?”

I said, “Fine, and you?” She said she was fine, too.

—SBM

Actually, I think I might make one every day of my life. Some of the consequences of these errors are longer lasting than others, but trust me when I say I never set out to make a mistake on purpose. I try to make the right call, do the right thing, it just so happens that at times I am wrong. And there is no way to take back words uttered or something you might have done. It’s now out there, part of your history, and all you can do at that point is either address it and try to reverse engineer to fix it, or, you may just have to live with the aftermath. Time heals, but sometimes there’s a scar that never goes away. But the good thing is that for most scars eventually you stop noticing them, when life simply moved on.

I tell J that mistakes are not necessarily bad, in fact they may not be bad at all because this is how we learn. Mess up, make a bad call in a situation, observe the results and now you know what can happen so you could avoid doing—whatever it was—again, or at least you can try.

Mistakes bring depth to our character. They add layers of wisdom like the rings of a tree. Every ring means you made it through, are still standing, and like a tree, you are taller and stronger and your canopy may provide more shade to others, shade in the sense of compassion. Think of it this way: would you rather take advice from someone you feel has had it fairly easy in life, bumps here and there, of course, but nothing major, or would you instead go to someone who has struggled, found their face in the gutter at times, but continued in spite of it all? Who would have more wisdom to offer?

But here’s the rub. We make mistakes and then we do the following: beat ourselves up for being: wrong, weak, stupid, dumb, inferior, not as good as, a loser, and the descriptions can go on all night. And this is where we cause damage to ourselves and make it worse because we slip into this emotional pit and it can be hard to climb out. The more we do it, the deeper the pit becomes, leading to, you guessed it, more poor judgment.

The other night I am in the kitchen making lunch for myself to take to work the next day. I’ve been working toward losing weight (remember, we don’t use “fat” in our house, we say “extra”), to be less extra, and here I go getting out the avocado, the tomatoes, a sprinkle of roasted almonds and goat cheese, when, suddenly I cave. At 9ish p.m., I shove a big pinch of cheddar cheese into my mouth, followed by avocado slice, followed by a quesadilla. I broke right through the barrier and now I was eating my way to the land of Deep Regret. I had been so good! One moment of weakness, I thought to myself, and I totally blew it.

Not true. Later, I thought about this weak moment another way. And a different perspective dawned on me, it was like somewhere out there wisdom descended that said I was human and being such, I make mistakes. This was simply a slip and fall in the context of my goal. No big deal. And what do we do when we slip and fall? We get back up and keep going. Find me a baby who learns to walk without falling many times first. Find me a six-year-old who rides a bike on his or her first try. Falling helps you find your balance. And balance is necessary in order to walk or ride your bike. It is part of the process and not something to berate yourself about, because you cannot learn “how” without it.

The next night I told myself that making lunch in the later evening when J is in bed—and dinner was oh, so long ago—was just not a good idea, not with the goal I have set for myself. Getting food out of the fridge at that hour has the built in possibility of diet failure. I decided instead to either make the lunch at the same time I was making dinner or do it the next morning.

And guess what? That works. I caught my balance.

—SBM (sometimes a loser, but always learning from it)

How busy am I, really? I’ll give you an example. And I am forcing myself to sit down and write this—at this exact moment— to release my frustration and complete feeling of angst. Moments like these drag you down to your knees and, like a book thrown at your head, give you a reckoning of how insane your life schedule is during each waking moment of your life.

At these times, with, whatever happened, it all comes crashing down. All you want to do is scream at the top of your lungs at the situation that is the cherry on top of piled up frustrations that you’ve pushed aside in your mind. Now all of them are smacking you in the face to make you take notice. It’s beyond being late everywhere you go, getting to bed at midnight when you have to be up at 6:30 a.m., and facing traffic 4 times a day. These kinds of situations grab you by the balls to tell you that the pace of your life is insane.

But actually, it’s worse because you don’t know what to do to fix it. Stop cleaning the litter box? Stop doing the dishes? Stop wanting the house to be clean—to some minimal degree? The remedy sounds easy. “Take care of yourself,” I hear. “Allocate time just for you,” is another, or “Let it go until tomorrow.”  And while I try (of course I try!) it’s still hard to walk away from a sink full of dirty dishes knowing they will be there the next day, or, find an available inch of wiggle room in my life—for “me” time. Every wiggle is taken.

Other people say laugh it off, don’t take these things so seriously!  Umm, no can do “in the moment,” at which times all I want to do is knock chairs over and push everything off the counter with one swipe. I roasted a whole organic chicken that has been taking up room in the freezer for weeks and then more room in the refrigerator to thaw. When it was thawed and cooked, I cleaned up the crock pot, broke the chicken down into lunch-size servings to take to work. I added sides: organic roasted corn and organic spinach, and then in the refrigerator these lunches went.

Then, in the morning, I got one meal out, put it in a lunch bag to take to work, and then I left the bag on the counter driving away and leaving the meal behind. I got to work with no lunch. I got home that night and had to throw away perfectly good (though now bad) food. And I did this twice. This week.

One time, okay, I could reason it was a one-off, but twice? Especially when, the second time I thought to myself, as I was rushing out the door, wouldn’t it something if I forgot this one too? And then I went ahead and did exactly that.

I realize my frustrations and suffering pale in comparison to what others face in their lives. It’s just a meal, two meals, lost. I am not living in a refugee camp, fleeing a war-torn country. I have a wonderful child, I am not starving, there is more food in my refrigerator or I can buy more. I have a roof over my head. I have my health.

But this is where I am. These are the situations I face. This is my reality. I am a Single Busy Mommy after all and it’s all on me. One day I may be able to laugh off two lunches left on the counter, but not today.

—SBM (trying to hang in there)

 

It’s tough. We have transitioned to middle school. Gone are the days of only having a roundabout to contend with (you don’t stop at a roundabout, you know that, right?), predictable after school care (I have to come up with something every Wednesday and Friday when J doesn’t have dance), tears about missed friends and harder classes, being under a microscope, viola and Spanish class blues . . . and the dreaded, and horrific traffic.

I face traffic now (coming + going) four times a day. Before I had none. We just sailed to school … J in the crow’s nest, “traffic up yonder,” but yay, we’d get off at the Willow off ramp, no problama . . .

One of those four times in traffic is “traffic” in a parking lot (can you believe it?) that all of us—attempting to escape the gridlock on the street—do, a quickie right turn into the gas station in the strip mall only to find the rest of us already there. Dang!

Traffic. Four times a day. Yep. Takes getting used to. What are all of these people doing out here at 3:30 in the afternoon? For real? Mostly, we take the back streets, which is its own “Whaaaaaa are all these people doing on the back streets?”

Trials. Okay, classes are smaller, things are more touchy-feel-y when before you could just run out on the playground with your friends and hang upside-down on the jungle gym with Doritos in your mouth.

First days at new school, ummm . . . hard. Tears. I play the flute not the viola . . . I can’t read the music. What is this alto clef nonsense? I have to learn the notes all over again?

Tears. I miss my friends. I hate school. I don’t want to go here. Big tears . . . rolling down my baby’s face. I hurt. She hurts. We hurt. But it will get better. I promise, I tell her.

And I know it will. Change is hard.

—SBM (SOS)

Sometimes a good idea is too good not to share. And I’ve got 3 that I can no longer keep to myself.  When they are this good, everyone needs to benefit.  Here you go . . . and, ohhh, the best part of all? Everything you need is already in your kitchen, except for Number 3.

Number 1:  go get some sugar. I’ll wait . . . Got it? Now, mix it with your favorite liquid soap (any) and then scrub your hands with the mixture. Scrub well, all over, front side, back side, finger nails, all of it! Rinse. Feel your smooth hands.  Can you believe these are your hands? And to think a little sugar is capable of making your hands feel this good. But not just your hands, your entire body can benefit from this simple scrub.

Number 2: in a small bowl, mix one part corn starch with one part baking soda (like 1/4 cup of each) and say good bye to aluminum-embedded-linked-to-breast-cancer-anti-perspirant forever! The evil stuff.  Instead, get a healthy (“Tom’s of Maine” is good) deodorant with nothing bad in it and let’s your underarms breathe and then apply it. Then “power-puff” your underarms with my corn starch /baking soda mixture and never smell bad in the underarm region again! This will blow your mind, how well it works. And, you can power puff again during the day, if you feel the need. And, sprinkle it in your shoes, too. Believe me, this is the best odor fix you will ever come across. The corn starch makes it feel good on your skin.

Number 3: A men’s handkerchief substitutes very well as a cotton ball, wipe, and a cotton-tip swab. (“Baby” washcloths work, well, too, since they are small, thin terry cloth and easy to handle.) Go to Target and buy a pack of kerchiefs, they come 3 or 4 to a bag. I use these and jojoba oil for make-up removal. Just pour a few drops of jojoba oil on the kerchief and  wipe away make-up. Works really well. Use it this way (using different “clean” parts of the cloth) for a week or more and then wash it. Who cares if the make-up stains the cloth? And use the kerchiefs to clear ears, remove nail polish (when it gets too spent on polish, you can replace it). Then think of all of the cotton balls, single-use wipes, and a swabs you won’t be using any more . . .or spending $ on. Use and reuse, there are so many opportunities to avoid single-use products (many of which should be outlawed in my book).

And finally, keep that fluoride out of your and your kids’ mouths! There’s no dang proof it reduces cavities. It’s bad stuff. Tell you kids to stop eating so much candy, brush better, and floss. Right?

Stayin’ healthy . . .

—SBM

Plankton, the cricket, showed up in our garage a couple weeks ago. Pete, our alpha male Russian Blue cat (can’t come in the house kind of alpha, attacks anything that resembles a cat) and I heard the chirping one night. Pete stopped licking and looked up and I tried to locate where the noise was coming from. But every time I walked in the direction of the chirping, it stopped. Just like a frog. When I stopped paying attention the chirping resumed.

He moved around the garage, I soon discovered, and I say “he” with confidence after learning that only male crickets chirp. The next night he was under the shelves chirping away. The night after that he was at my table and then under an orange plastic box that holds vacuum cleaner nozzle attachments (yeah, I have a box of those). There, under the orange box, is where he seems to claim as his home base as this is where he always seems to be at the end of the day.

One morning on our way to school J said, “Mom I found the cricket!” and there he was at the base of the table! When I walked up to him he scurried off and disappeared between some boxes.

That night when we came home, he was back under the orange bin. I heard him, knelt down and lightly tapped on the box and talked to him. J said we needed to name him and came up with “Plankton,” a perfect name.

Plankton got braver as the days went by. In fact we quickly established a routine in the garage. I tapped on the orange box and called his name. Instead of quickly scurrying away like before, he’d usually slowly come out, little by little emerge from under the box, stop, and sit there at the edge as I talked to him.

I wondered if crickets were considered to be somewhat intelligent like ants, who, if they were bigger, could probably build skyscrapers without blueprints. But an online search revealed that crickets were not considered to be particularly intelligent among the insect crowd. But I swear my Plankton, a “black field cricket,” knows me at some level and recognizes my voice now.

I wondered if he was hungry. I did another search and I learned that they are primarily scavengers and consume fungi, decaying plants, grains, and they are a welcome addition to gardens since they eat insects that destroy plants such as aphids and ants.

I put some lettuce, mushroom pieces, and uncooked oatmeal in front of his orange man cave and Plankton poked his head out to investigate a piece of lettuce. He touched it with his antennae and seemed less and less afraid and I was starting to get attached to him and feeling like I wanted to pick him up and let him sleep on the bed.

The next night I couldn’t find him. Then I heard the chirping by the table and found him under an orange throw rug under my chair. On no! If I had not seen him, I could have easily pulled out the chair to sit down as I usually do and squashed my boy! He came out from under the rug as if to say hello and then ran back under the carpet. I didn’t sit on the chair that night and thought how careful I need to be when I step down since Plankton could be there taking a snooze or waiting for me to tap.

Before Plankton, I would have jumped if I saw a cricket, the same way (though to a lesser degree) as I would upon discovering a spider. But now, he is our visiting pet, since he can come and go as he pleases, though I wonder if I should help him go outside? Or leave him be?

I am standing at my AC unit fan thing outside with the repairman. I’m staring at a gauge as he explains (who knows what) to me. I am not, in the least, understanding a word he’s saying though I’m smiling, nodding, and acting like I do. He could be talking about a thermal dynamics plasma cutter in German and I would have the same level of comprehension.

There is talk of freezing, water, “refrigerate,” and a slow leak. I understand these words individually, of course, but put them together in the context of an air conditioner not working and I’m out. And what caused the leak? He said it could be one of 500 things. All I want to know is if I go back into the house, can I turn the AC back on because it’s hot.

I couldn’t add value to this situation if I tried. I am relying on him 100%.  My entire air conditioning and heating world is in Gareth’s capable, knowledgeable hands. Anything he says I will say “okay.” What else could I say? I have not idea how AC units work. I can’t chime in, rubbing my chin and say… “I think the coils aren’t getting warm air circulating around them,” (or) “I think something is wrong with the airflow and the evaporator coil is getting too cold causing a layer of ice to build up outside . . . .”

No, all I can do is nod my head and pray he’s an honest. And I’m also thinking, what does he have up his sleeves? He’s got me going with “I am 99.9 percent confident it will fit” (new motor and new something else part, I forgot, but there is wee bit of a chance it “won’t” fit in which case $900ish goes to $2,300ish.)

I have no clue how my house works. The water heater? A big tank of warmed water in the corner of the garage that equates to me turning on a faucet marked “hot” and then hot water running. The auto sprinklers for the lawn? No clue. One time I was cleaning around the dial in the garage and I guess I accidentally turned off “auto.” Then months go by and I’m noticing the grass is dying. Whaaaaa??? I go to the garage, see the dial on “off” and remember. Oh, man. Dead grass, it’s all my fault.

One time, my TV screen was acting weird and apparently “zoomed in” so I couldn’t view the channel display below. I played around with the umpteen remotes, the one for the cable, the TV one, I couldn’t figure it out so I got on the phone with the Philippines customer service agent who was trying to “troubleshoot” with me. I was at it for hours, placed on hold, trying this, pressing that until 1 a.m. finally we realized that someone, who came to J’s birthday party that day and was watching TV must have selected “zoom” on the TV remote. Then he left. That is all that it was. One click that resulted in my hours on the phone, on hold, in hell, trying to figure out what was wrong.

I want to marry one of those Geek Squad guys, for a like a week, then we can get the marriage annulled. I want him to take me around my house and show me how EVERYTHING works, as I carry my legal pad and scribble down everything he says. Water heater, water, gas, internet, sprinklers, the ticking thing that happens when I clean the stove (that cost $100 once and it was just soap bubbles clogging the dang fire thing.) How to turn off the fire place “fan” that sounds like a heater and ruins the mood, ugh, that was another $100 visit only to learn there is an on and off switch.

Yep, I am clueless. SOS … ever after.

—SBM

Yes, that string cheese that came back in the lunch bag (score!) that’s been out all day, in the cubby, on the playground, back in the car, is the best thing you’ll eat all day. The flavor of cheese is at its peak at room temperature and kids don’t have a dang clue and leave it sitting there.

Kids and food: either they don’t eat the best part, leave a plate full of pasta untouched, or take one of the four shrimps off your plate (that probably cost $2), took one bite and left the rest of the meat behind for waste. And how hard is it scrapping an unfinished plate of food into the garbage that is perfectly good, delicious, organic . . . and you are on a diet?

No one tells you about the topic of food when you are about to become a parent. This is a biggie and takes time to master. Here’s what you are going to go through, this is what you are going to be telling yourself along with a reality check to help you retain your sanity:

I’ll just write it off, if it’s ‘served,’ to me, once served that means ‘consumed’ whether or not it was eaten or dumped into the trash

Reality check: This one is tough because even though you reason that it was served and could have been “eaten,” it still hurts—almost physically—to throw away perfectly good food, when you want nothing more than to eat it, but you won’t let yourself, which is also hard.  Double whammy.

Food keeps coming back in the lunch box. After I prepared it and all, it wasn’t even touched!

Reality check: look for the string cheese and eat it with a glass of wine. After the wine the uneaten food won’t feel quite as bad.

Yay! She likes cooked down apples! Great, I know that will work!”

Reality check: No, it won’t. Next week, she/he won’t touch them. Cooked organic apples, who cares they are organic and cost more. That’s not a question.

Yay! She likes cooked down blueberries! Yahoo, they’re great for her/him. Gonna stock up!”

Reality check: stocking up is actually okay when she won’t eat them next week—who knows why—because blueberries freeze well and last a long time in the fridge, relatively speaking. But blueberries come with the added danger of being the Sharpie pens of fruit. As you know, they stain like a SOB. Make dang sure you can account for every blueberry served, count them if served straight from the basket and then count what’s not eaten. If you don’t balance, get on the floor and scrounge around until you find that missing stain maker. I tell you this because they are round and roll. So, you are in the kitchen with a tiled floor and think no problem? Think again. That mofo is ball-like and can and will roll right onto the carpet.

Why doesn’t she like bananas anymore?

Reality check: because they are healthy, an easy snack, couldn’t be more convenient and a quick shot of potassium to stave off hunger. Of course, something that packed with value has to be something he or she hates. There could be no other way, and you knew that.

I’m only going to give her a small portion of pasta because she never eats it all. And leftovers, always a tough sell.

Reality check: rule of thumb is whatever you think, it is the opposite. You serve less, they want seconds. You serve more, they won’t finish their plate and you’re back to scrapping into the trash. Meditate on this, you’ll be fine . . . .   

Does you kid have to go to the bathroom as soon as you sit down in a restaurant or worse right when the food arrives?

Reality check: Yes. Hello, of course. Consider yourself lucky if this happens when they first seat you vs. when the food arrives. Leave your jacket behind so they don’t give your table away.

I cook dinner for her/him (plain food) and another dinner for me, every night. that’s two dinners, twice the dishes to wash.

Reality check: Yep. And I get it. You think creating something else for her or him to “try” might go over well? What color is the sky in your world? You sound like a parent who has never been a parent and has no (and I mean no) clue. Give them what you know they will eat. Make sure to add a fruit and vege (they’ll eat) on the plate and call it a day and stop wishing they’ll eat avocado or rack of lamb. Let me give you some advice because I know you’re in pain: they won’t eat it! They’ll take one microscopic bite (that you need a magnifying glass to see) and say they hate it. Make it, whatever it is you want, then break it down into small portions and take it to work for lunch all week. Done. Give them the pasta with butter and a side of strawberries to your picky eater.

All she wants at restaurants is French fries.

Reality check: I know. Take the chicken tenders home and then take them to work the next day for lunch or cut them up and throw them in a salad. You would have never ordered chicken tenders, I get that . . . .

See, no one talks about the food thing. And the tastes change. It is it is an ever-moving target that for the most part you miss and only hit with basic white foods: pasta, bagels, potatoes, butter, rice, bread, French fries—did I miss anything? If you can think of any other white food that is not too exotic, do let me know.

—SBM