The alarm jerks me awake. My day starts now.
What’s for breakfast? What do I pack for the kid’s lunches?
Maybe a bagel and a smoothie for breakfast. My daughter likes the bagel with cream cheese, and my son likes his with butter. They both like smoothies, so that's a relief. My daughter doesn’t like bananas, and my son doesn't like melons so I’ll make a berry smoothie. I’m set for breakfast.
When I pack a salad for lunch, I have to remember my son won’t eat cucumbers and my daughter tomatoes. My daughter likes only thin baby carrots. I have to pick them out from the pack. As for sandwiches, one doesn’t like cheese or mayo in it. My son likes fried frozen samosas. My daughter will not eat anything with onions.
I fill the water bottles. One needs ice in it. The other wants no ice. I put this aside first.
Today I have to leave to work along with the kids, so I have to make something fast that suits all.
I put chicken wings into the toaster oven. Into one box I place blue cheese. The other can’t tolerate blue cheese.
I look at my watch. It’s time to wake my kids. I run upstairs and stand in the upstairs foyer announcing its time to get out of bed. My son says his usual "one minute" and goes back to sleep, and I rush downstairs. I pass the waking up baton to my husband. Within a couple of minutes I hear my husband trying to wake our son again. This process repeats itself everyday.
My daughter wakes up to the first call.
It’s varsity season, and we have more grocery shopping to do and more meals to pack both for lunch and for the evening before the matches.
I pack their lunch boxes with the chicken wings, nuts, pop tarts, and a mandarin orange along with the other fruits they each like. One wants only the cinnamon and brown sugar pop tart, and the other only the strawberry tart.
We all get ready and gather for breakfast.
“Do you have your flute? Your saxophone? Homework?” I remind my kids. “I will not take them to school if you forget.”
But there are many days I still have to drop off a forgotten lunch box, a tennis racket, the bake sale goodies, a signed sheet, etcetera.
"He wears all my socks and makes them large. " My daughter complains. She is a size 8 and my son a 12. He's the younger one. “And Amma, yesterday you forgot to pack my chocolate milk.” my daughter says as she finishes her smoothie.
“It was in my box and I brought it back,” my son adds.
“Uh oh. It went into the wrong lunch box.” I laugh.
The school bus is here, and they grab their bags and instruments and run. I quickly clean the kitchen while processing what I’m going to have to juggle for dinner.
It’s just not juggling with my kid's food preferences.
I think we all are jugglers through life.
