The four food groups in the bag

by Debbie Farmer

Every day I try to send my daughter to school with a homemade lunch just like 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 content 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 (which 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. “Where’s my fruit?” My daughter looks into her bag, which I threw on the counter.

“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 no longer bright-eyed or perky and I begin to think it’s okay 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 begin to feel guilty and I wonder if other better-organized mothers sent wonderful culinary creations for their children every day. Maybe sending a homemade lunch to school for 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 lunch room deals I made as a child. Then I realize that even though I’m a failure at making lunches like my mother, I’m a success at passing on the art of lunch bag substitution.

Questions or comments? You can email Debbie at [email protected] or write to her c/o ParadigmTSA, P.O. Box 111372, Stamford, CT 06911-1372. Copies of her new e-book, “The Best of Family Daze,” can be purchased at her Web site, www.familydaze.com (c) Copyright 2000 Debbie Farmer, Syndicated by ParadigmTSA