Motherhood and becoming

The Lunch I Left Behind

What one forgotten lunch taught me about responsibility, grace, and the person I am becoming.

I packed my oldest son a lunch for his field trip this morning.

He had been thinking about this lunch before today. While he was at his dad’s for dinner, he called to make sure I’d gotten everything. If I hadn’t, he was ready to go get it with his dad. He was excited about the field trip and wanted to know lunch was taken care of.

I told him I had it.

I went out and bought what I needed, then packed his lunch with three homemade chocolate chip cookies. I learned that he had secretly been hoping for a Lunchable. That isn’t what I bought, but I wanted him to have something good that I had put together just for him.

It’s also homecoming week, so there was more than usual to think about this morning. My kids don’t have something to wear for every theme. I can’t go out and buy new things just for homecoming week, so they participate when they can. Sometimes we make something work with what they already have, and sometimes they don’t participate that day.

As their mom, I wish I could say yes to more. I can’t give them everything I would like to, but I give them what I have.

This morning the girls wanted me to look at their outfits and tell them what I thought. There was a paper my daughter needed. My son had his field trip. The kids were excited and coming to me with questions, wanting answers, approval, and a little attention.

Meanwhile, I was reminding someone to brush their teeth, telling someone else to finish getting ready, and watching the clock.

It’s 7:35. You need to be out the door.

I wasn’t frustrated with them then. I was overwhelmed and trying to keep up. They weren’t being bad. They were being kids, and I was trying to help each of them with what they needed while getting everybody to school.

After they left, I realized I’d missed the paper my daughter needed. Thankfully, a preschool child I watch was going to school later, so I was able to send it along with him. I was relieved I could still get it there.

Around ten o’clock, I was getting snacks for one of the little ones I watch. I opened the refrigerator and saw my son’s lunchbox.

It was still there.

If I had noticed it when I sent my daughter’s paper, I could have sent the lunchbox too. But I hadn’t seen it then, and now it was too late to get it to him for his field trip.

My heart sank all the way to my stomach.

I texted his teacher right away. She let me know the kitchen had gotten him a lunch, and I was grateful he had something to eat.

But I kept thinking about that phone call from the night before. He had checked with me because this mattered to him. I had assured him I had it handled. I had gotten the food and packed it. Then I forgot to send it with him.

That was when I became frustrated.

I replayed the morning. How did I forget? Maybe if everyone had come to me calmly, one at a time, I would have remembered. Maybe if I hadn’t needed to repeat reminders to brush teeth and get ready, I would have had room in my head for the lunchbox.

Then I began questioning more than the morning. Is our home too chaotic? Do we need more structure? Am I organized enough? Am I managing everything well enough?

I felt embarrassed. What kind of mom did I look like to my kids? I couldn’t give them something for every homecoming day. I’d forgotten my daughter’s paper, even though I got it to her later. And now I’d forgotten the lunch my son had been making sure I would pack.

My kids are my whole heart. I can’t always give them everything I desire to give them. I give them what I have: my time, attention, care, and the things I can make and do with my hands. That lunch was one of those things. Finding it in the refrigerator made me feel like I had failed him.

Once I had time to sit with it, I could see that the lunchbox had brought up more than disappointment over lunch. It had touched my fear of letting my children down. That fear had turned one mistake into a judgment about my whole life.

The truth is, I manage a lot. I’m a mom of five, I run daycare, and there is only one of me. Our home gets busy, but I manage it well. There may be something practical we can change about our mornings. That doesn’t mean I have to call my whole home a failure because of one lunchbox.

There’s responsibility to share here too. I packed the lunch, and I needed to make sure it left the refrigerator. I can own that with my son and tell him I’m sorry.

He also has a part in getting himself ready when I ask. When I have to keep reminding him to do things he’s able to do, it adds to what I’m trying to manage. We can talk about that without making him responsible for the lunch I forgot. I can put a reminder by the door next time, and he can work on responding when it’s time to get ready.

I’ve also been thinking about what my kids learn from the way I handle moments like this. I want them to see me tell the truth when I make a mistake. I want them to see me apologize, make a plan, and accept help when it’s offered. I don’t want them to learn that the only way to prove you care is to punish yourself afterward.

And I wonder what my son might learn from this too. He thought ahead. He checked that we had what he needed. He had reason to be disappointed when the lunch didn’t come with him, and I want to give him room to feel that.

The school made sure he was fed, even though the day didn’t go the way either of us planned. Maybe, when we talk about it, we can also notice that he was cared for in a way we hadn’t arranged. I don’t want to use that to brush aside his disappointment. I do want him to know that when something goes wrong, we can take the next step, receive help, and trust God to be with us there too.

Chapter 1 of Becoming asks what is shaping our hearts and what comes out of us under pressure. This morning showed me how quickly a mistake can stir up fear and shame in me. It also gave me a chance to pause, tell the truth about what happened, and choose what I want my children to see me do next.

“For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.”

Psalm 103:14 (KJV)

God knows I have limits. I don’t have to pretend otherwise when I come to Him.

I love that my kids bring me their excitement, their questions, and their needs, sometimes all at once. I bring God a lot at once too. Some days I come with gratitude. Other days I come overwhelmed, afraid, or still trying to understand why I reacted the way I did.

I’m so glad He doesn’t get overwhelmed with me. I don’t have to sort myself out before I come to Him.

“Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.”

1 Peter 5:7 (KJV)

I’m a human being, not a human doing. I have real responsibilities, and I want to keep growing in how I carry them. But I can’t earn God’s love by getting every detail right. When I fall short, I can own my part and receive His grace instead of letting shame decide who I am.

As for the three homemade chocolate chip cookies, I poured myself a glass of milk and ate them while I processed my emotions. They were pretty good. There weren’t enough for all the kids to have one anyway, so I figured I might as well enjoy them.

My son had lunch today, and I’m thankful the school made sure of that. I still wish he’d had the one I packed.

When he gets home, I can ask him about his field trip, listen to how he felt, and apologize for leaving his lunch behind. Then we can figure out what each of us can do next time.

That’s something I want us both to learn: when a day doesn’t go as planned, we can be honest about it, care for each other through it, and keep growing.