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Family Daze
Lunchroom deals hone trading skills
By Debbie Farmer
Every day I try to send my daughter to school with a homemade lunch, just the same as my mother used to make. I put it in a colorful bag along with a special message that she can read while she eats.
Unfortunately, my high expectations slowly descend into the abyss of reality during the course of the week, and my daughter can tell what day it is by the contents of her lunch bag.
On Monday I am perky and bright-eyed. I snap open her lunch bag and ponder the four food groups. I lovingly prepare a bunch of juicy grapes, two different kinds of homemade cookies, a container of soup, a bottle of fresh-squeezed orange juice and a sandwich (that I trim into fun little shapes with cookie cutters).
I contemplate her note: "Darling princess, you are the light of my life. Do your best work at school. I will see you when you get home. Lots of love, Mom." I can barely find enough room in the bag to slide it in.
On Tuesday, I am a little less perky. I set her bag on the counter, and try to recycle what is left over from Monday. I add more water to the soup and stuff the remaining pieces of homemade cookies into a baggie. We're running late so I substitute a box of raisins for the grapes. I barely have time to cut her sandwich in half before closing the bag. I quickly add a note: "Do your best as you always do. I am proud of you. Love, Mom."
By Wednesday some of the food is already gone so I have to substitute. My daughter looks into her bag, which I threw on the counter. "Where's my fruit?"
"It's in the jelly in your sandwich."
"Oh. Can I have some cheese, too?"
"Sure." I rip open a box of macaroni and cheese, grab a package of cheddar flavoring, and quickly toss it into the bag. Then I scrawl: "Princess, do good today. See you soon. Love, Mom."
By Thursday, I am definitely not bright-eyed or perky. I am beginning to think it's OK to make a sandwich out of two peanut butter and granola bars because it will cover most of the major food groups and I am out of bread. Instead I roll a slice of bologna into a tortilla and toss a lemon into the bag for vitamin C. Then I add a box of Cracker Jacks since popcorn is a vegetable. I grab a piece of paper and quickly write: "Have a great day. Love, Mom. P.S. If the lunchroom monitor sees your lunch, don't give her your real name."
By Friday I invent a fifth food group usually called "The Mystery Meat Group," and I scrawl a message on the back of my daughter's lunch bag that reads: "To whom it may concern, please believe I am really a good mother." I feel guilty and I wonder if other better-organized mothers sent wonderful culinary creations with their children every day. Perhaps sending a homemade lunch to school with my daughter isn't the right thing for me to do.
"Do you want to buy lunch instead?" I ask as I hand her the lunch bag.
"No way! Friday's my favorite lunch day!"
I stare at her blankly.
"I can trade my granola bar for Jimmy's leftover Thursday night pizza. Then, if I add a bag of graham crackers and a box of raisins, I can trade up for Meg's tuna and ketchup sandwich. If I throw in two lemons, I'll have enough for Susie's turkey and mustard salad on a bagel and a bag of chocolate chip cookies."
As I watch her walk down the driveway happily swinging her lunch bag, I remember some of the lunchroom deals I made as a child. Then I realize that, even though I'm a failure at making lunches just the same as my mother, I'm a success at passing on the art of lunch bag substitution.
Debbie Farmer can be contacted at ParadigmTSA@familydaze.com.
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Saratoga, California Since 1955
