Recently, I found myself at yet another child’s birthday celebration. If you’ve got kids under the age of seven, it seems like you’re always attending these gatherings. The festivities had just kicked off, and while the kids were still in the playful stage—my five-year-old son, Max, had already made a memorable entrance by dubbing another kid “Stinky Pants.” Seizing the opportunity, I headed to the food table before the spread became a circus of tiny hands and sticky fingers.
At these parties, it’s common for the food to be quite impressive, as parents seem to relish the chance to outdo each other with culinary creations. I’m all for the friendly competition; it means there’s more delicious food to enjoy at every event.
My plate was soon filled with a delightful assortment: meatballs, spanakopita, cheesy bread, herbed dip, Margherita pizza, and, of course, some fruits and veggies to maintain the “I eat healthy” facade. As I was loading up, another mom remarked that she was starving because she had “forgotten to eat lunch.” She mentioned this was a regular occurrence, and sometimes her husband even has to remind her to eat. I couldn’t believe it. This was, without a doubt, the most absurd thing I had ever heard. I was on my second lunch at that moment!
In my experience, the thought of skipping a meal is utterly foreign. Since becoming a mom four years ago, I have never once “forgotten” to eat. With my busy schedule, I can’t afford to be running on empty. Food fuels my mornings when Max bursts into my room at 6:24 AM, ready for the day. It gives me the energy to prepare his school lunch while simultaneously reminding him for the tenth time to get dressed and even sorting LEGOs with my teeth. It’s this sustenance that helps me muster the strength to drag myself through the shower and put on something other than the same t-shirt I’ve worn for days. Food grants me the patience to get Max into the car for school, even when he insists on building a LEGO masterpiece first—using the very pieces I just separated with my teeth.
Food is my ally at children’s birthday parties too. As long as I’ve had my “three squares a day,” I can manage the chaos of toy stores, hide gifts, and deal with the inevitable tantrum that arises when Max discovers the toy I thought was well-hidden. On the day of this party, with my tummy full of Margherita pizza and meatballs, I could navigate the bounce house, keeping an eye out for stray children, and comfort Max when the balloon animal he waited for bursts. “Just wait your turn! Your piece of cake is coming!” I can even maintain my composure on the drive home when the goody bag spills and fifty-cent toys scatter, never to be found again, as Max yells for his toy to be fixed “right now!”
I can accomplish all these tasks because I’m a mom who “remembers to eat.” I’ve learned that a satisfied belly equals a capable mom.
Even if by some cosmic twist of fate I were to realize at 2:30 PM that lunch had slipped my mind, I believe that simply walking through the kitchen would trigger a magical response: pantry doors would fly open, the refrigerator would hum and glow, and apples would somehow tumble into my hands, already peeled.
You know those survival shows where people are lost in the wilderness and live off droplets of rainwater collected from leaves, only to celebrate three days later with a feast of roasted skunk? I would literally perish before the camera crew made it back to their editing bay. If Max were along for the ride, my fate would be sealed even sooner.
Forget to eat? I’d sooner forget to breathe!
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In summary, the overwhelming demands of motherhood make it nearly impossible to forget to eat. Food is not just important for survival; it’s a key ingredient in managing the chaos of parenting, especially when juggling the responsibilities that come with it.
Keyphrase: How can someone forget to eat?
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