So when was it that the contents of our children lunch boxes represented parenting?
As a kid growing up in the 80s, I survived on cheese paste and a bruised apple for lunch. There were no flaxseeds and acai bowls. Mums just sent you on your way with a soggy sarnie and a kiss on the head and if you were lucky enough, you bought a packet of Wotsits from the tuck shop at lunchtime. Things were so much simpler then.
I think in the last decade, life has become more complicated for mums. There are certain expectations of us. We have to feed them foods that are healthy, trendy hipster nourishments that make us feel good about ourselves and our parenting. Then we have to make sure they sleep and exercise enough, make sure they don’t watch too much TV or play too many computer games, avoid porn, be kind, be happy, be successful, love, feel, try and try again, the list never ends.
There are so many choices now, so much to consider and so many unreachable expectations and what I’ve realised is, I cannot, as a parent, do everything that is expected of me.
So, I feel like I’m failing all of the time.
It’s shit, because I know I’m a good mum and I know I try my best. But these modern expectations lead to feelings of not being good enough. These constant comparisons, be it lunchboxes or parenting, cause a lack of contentment in mothers, a feeling of always striving and never quite getting there, like the never-ending pile of washing and the toys spread out in every room of the house – all relentless reminders of not keeping up.
I’m not failing when I don’t keep up; it’s just that the expectations are too extreme. Impossible targets only reached by felt-hatted women drinking from jam jars on Instagram. And that is not who I am. I can’t be that person. I can’t fulfil the expectations of everyone, the internet, the latest trend, or the people I meet at the park.
It’s time to leave expectations at the door along with the wet umbrellas.
Expectations are precursors to disappointment for mums. They leave us feeling incapable when, in fact , we are all doing our best.
The bar is set way to high.
So high, that none of us can ever reach it.
But all I can say is – we try.
We keep chopping, slicing, peeling and even grating. We fulfil the role to our best possible ability. We get on with our list of jobs, trying to please everyone and everything around us (even judgemental lunchboxes).
I think as mums, if we can learn not to give in to the expectations that are dumped on us by our surrounding culture, we have a chance of feeling happy with ourselves, happy with our parenting and happy with our choices.
We can learn to trust our instincts more rather than be led by expectations. We are more likely to feel like we’re doing a good job if they never enter the equation.
For me, trying to fight off the weight of expectation is daily. I battle it with cucumber swords and salami sticks. I try not to let expectations of others decipher what I put in my children’s lunch packs. I try. And if on occasion the odd Milk Chocolate Freddie frog makes a guest appearance, well, fuck it! Nobody’s perfect.
If I can’t see the disappointed stares or feel the judgment from my peers, then it doesn’t exist, right? Without expectations, all I have left is me and my own style of ‘mumming’ and I’m happy with that.
So, be it sauerKraut or Twisties, Kombucha or Timtams, whatever I pack for my kids, there is one ingredient that bulges out from underneath that lunchbox lid…
(no, not kale)
Love!
And as long as they have lots of that, then my expectation is that my children will have healthy, happy lives.
x
Originally published here.
Victoria lives on The Sunshine Coast on the East Coast of Australia. She has three uncontrollable children, a very patient husband and a dog. She’s been sober for 2 years and writes about her zig zaggy journey in her blog –www.drunkmummysobermummy.com. Victoria is currently writing a book about parenting, alcohol and life as a sober mum.
You can follow her (in a non-stalky way) on Instagram and Facebook.
