Lately, headlines have been filled with *shocking* *controversial* news regarding children’s lunchboxes which are arguably too extravagant or too plain or just too anything really. They keep popping up on my Facebook feed and I'm not sure why. Perhaps this mega controversy has always been around and I've just been blissfully unaware and ignorant of the kerfuffle.
I never knew the fury that could spew towards the parent (let's face it, it's always the towards the mum) who packs their kid a lunch with an avocado sliced into the shape of a pine tree. Or the high-pitched shrieks when a different parent includes pistachios. Or heaven-forbid the terror that arises when a parent that makes a sandwich with white bread.
It's all extremely controversial, apparently. The comments section for these articles are basically on the same level of hell as anything to do with vegans or feminism. Everyone becomes very enraged by popcorn and bento boxes and wraps.
Basically, if a lunchbox exists out there that looks different to your child's or your child from 50 years ago or (my personal favorite) your non-existent child, it's headline-news worthy. And these differences make people very, very upset.
These clusters of lunchbox articles can be split into three main tangents:
1) Parent makes beautifully crafted lunch for child.
2) Parent complains that they feel inadequate compared to beautifully-crafted-lunchbox-making parent.
3) Parent makes lunch that is "too big" or "too plain".
As for the comments, it’s a true cesspit. Basically each one is just a messy, very emotive spew (kind of like what I do on the regular here on my blog), about how their own personal situation is different. And this difference makes the commenters either:
a) Criticize and become attack-y towards the parent in the article.
b) Go on a "back in my day" rant.
So here is my rant that nobody asked for because I'm sick of seeing these articles pop up on my Newsfeed and reading all the comments, which nobody makes me do but I for some reason continue to do it anyway. Upon writing this, I've realized that I'm going to be seeing way more of these articles because I did some Googling to write this blog post. Go me.
To start with, who cares. If a parent wants to cut sandwiches into jellyfish and bananas into stars and include a food that you don't know how to pronounce in their kid's lunchbox, why does it matter? Why do you have to drag them down, because they want their kid's lunchbox to look magical? It's like how some people decorate Christmas trees perfectly or have a pristine couch or are really good at playing squash. If it makes them happy, let them do it in peace. They aren't hurting anyone. Those lunchboxes look cool AF and although it's definitely not my cup of tea to do that (I get stressed enough baking with an Edmonds packet mix), it looks like an awesome way to be creative.
I reckon the reason that these articles spark such a strong reaction is because our self-worth as parents is so knotted up in trying to be-it-all-and-have-it-all, and anything less than this makes you a “less than” parent. These expectations exist in every realm of parenting, from clothing to Santa to boundaries. However, attacking the person who you feel meets the invisible expectations of where you’re afraid that you’re falling short as a parent, isn't solving the problem. It's just perpetuating your own internal belief that you have to do the same X, Y, and Z to be a good enough parent. Attacking someone for including 52 different food groups in their kid's lunchbox isn't making you a better parent; it's just making you miserable.
What can we do instead then, if raging on the keyboard isn’t helpful? Take a look at your own situation. You don't want to/have time to/have the energy to make those lunchboxes? Cool. That's literally it. It doesn't mean you're a better or worse parent. It just means that you're a different parent with different circumstances and different children. You'll have stuff that you do supposedly "better" than the pretty lunchbox parents. Maybe you read heaps with your kids. Maybe you go on fun camping trips. Maybe you have movie nights together. Focus on the things that are important to you, and if making an intricate lunchbox isn't one of them then that's fine and okay. It doesn't mean anything more or less. Challenge your own expectations around the intricacies of your self-worth. Work on not equating your worth as a parent with whether your child's sandwich is sliced down the middle or with a cookie cutter. Learn that it doesn't matter either way, really.
Same goes for when you get a peek at another kid's lunchbox and it doesn't look like your kid's lunch, because it's “too” something. Some kids eat more. Some eat less. Some may have allergies or sensory processing issues, so they can only have specific things in their lunchbox. And when you feel that judgement rise, let it sit and feel everything associated with it. Where does it come from? How is it useful? And how true is it, really?
The better question is though, where could we channel the lunchbox rage instead?
How about towards the kids whose lunchboxes are empty? Honestly, if people were as fired up about the kids who are trying to learn on an empty stomach as they were about those who have rice cakes with a drizzle of dark chocolate, then this would be a wonderfully productive transfer of energy.
Almost 1 in 5 Kiwi kids experience moderate to severe food insecurity. This is completely unacceptable and disgraceful.
The government is rolling out a state-funded school lunches programme, aiming to feed 200,000 children each year. Is this enough to fix the problem? Of course not. It’s simply a bandaid to cover several generations worth of poverty, trauma, and inequality. It’s a hugely complex issue. But it is a place to start, and if less children are trying to learn on an empty stomach, then this is clearly the right space to pour our care into instead.
Charities such as KidsCan are also doing hugely important work in this area. They provide lunch, shoes, raincoats, and hygiene products, just to name a few, to children who don’t have access to these items. They rely on both government funding and generous donations to run, but there are still kids falling through the gaps and going without the basics
So what really matters here? A sandwich cut into a dinosaur? Or a tangle of low self-worth about a sandwich cut into a dinosaur verses a square? And above all else, what about the children who don’t have a lunchbox to tear apart on social media? Where is the emotional outpouring for them?
I never knew the fury that could spew towards the parent (let's face it, it's always the towards the mum) who packs their kid a lunch with an avocado sliced into the shape of a pine tree. Or the high-pitched shrieks when a different parent includes pistachios. Or heaven-forbid the terror that arises when a parent that makes a sandwich with white bread.
It's all extremely controversial, apparently. The comments section for these articles are basically on the same level of hell as anything to do with vegans or feminism. Everyone becomes very enraged by popcorn and bento boxes and wraps.
Basically, if a lunchbox exists out there that looks different to your child's or your child from 50 years ago or (my personal favorite) your non-existent child, it's headline-news worthy. And these differences make people very, very upset.
These clusters of lunchbox articles can be split into three main tangents:
1) Parent makes beautifully crafted lunch for child.
2) Parent complains that they feel inadequate compared to beautifully-crafted-lunchbox-making parent.
3) Parent makes lunch that is "too big" or "too plain".
As for the comments, it’s a true cesspit. Basically each one is just a messy, very emotive spew (kind of like what I do on the regular here on my blog), about how their own personal situation is different. And this difference makes the commenters either:
a) Criticize and become attack-y towards the parent in the article.
b) Go on a "back in my day" rant.
So here is my rant that nobody asked for because I'm sick of seeing these articles pop up on my Newsfeed and reading all the comments, which nobody makes me do but I for some reason continue to do it anyway. Upon writing this, I've realized that I'm going to be seeing way more of these articles because I did some Googling to write this blog post. Go me.
To start with, who cares. If a parent wants to cut sandwiches into jellyfish and bananas into stars and include a food that you don't know how to pronounce in their kid's lunchbox, why does it matter? Why do you have to drag them down, because they want their kid's lunchbox to look magical? It's like how some people decorate Christmas trees perfectly or have a pristine couch or are really good at playing squash. If it makes them happy, let them do it in peace. They aren't hurting anyone. Those lunchboxes look cool AF and although it's definitely not my cup of tea to do that (I get stressed enough baking with an Edmonds packet mix), it looks like an awesome way to be creative.
I reckon the reason that these articles spark such a strong reaction is because our self-worth as parents is so knotted up in trying to be-it-all-and-have-it-all, and anything less than this makes you a “less than” parent. These expectations exist in every realm of parenting, from clothing to Santa to boundaries. However, attacking the person who you feel meets the invisible expectations of where you’re afraid that you’re falling short as a parent, isn't solving the problem. It's just perpetuating your own internal belief that you have to do the same X, Y, and Z to be a good enough parent. Attacking someone for including 52 different food groups in their kid's lunchbox isn't making you a better parent; it's just making you miserable.
What can we do instead then, if raging on the keyboard isn’t helpful? Take a look at your own situation. You don't want to/have time to/have the energy to make those lunchboxes? Cool. That's literally it. It doesn't mean you're a better or worse parent. It just means that you're a different parent with different circumstances and different children. You'll have stuff that you do supposedly "better" than the pretty lunchbox parents. Maybe you read heaps with your kids. Maybe you go on fun camping trips. Maybe you have movie nights together. Focus on the things that are important to you, and if making an intricate lunchbox isn't one of them then that's fine and okay. It doesn't mean anything more or less. Challenge your own expectations around the intricacies of your self-worth. Work on not equating your worth as a parent with whether your child's sandwich is sliced down the middle or with a cookie cutter. Learn that it doesn't matter either way, really.
Same goes for when you get a peek at another kid's lunchbox and it doesn't look like your kid's lunch, because it's “too” something. Some kids eat more. Some eat less. Some may have allergies or sensory processing issues, so they can only have specific things in their lunchbox. And when you feel that judgement rise, let it sit and feel everything associated with it. Where does it come from? How is it useful? And how true is it, really?
The better question is though, where could we channel the lunchbox rage instead?
How about towards the kids whose lunchboxes are empty? Honestly, if people were as fired up about the kids who are trying to learn on an empty stomach as they were about those who have rice cakes with a drizzle of dark chocolate, then this would be a wonderfully productive transfer of energy.
Almost 1 in 5 Kiwi kids experience moderate to severe food insecurity. This is completely unacceptable and disgraceful.
The government is rolling out a state-funded school lunches programme, aiming to feed 200,000 children each year. Is this enough to fix the problem? Of course not. It’s simply a bandaid to cover several generations worth of poverty, trauma, and inequality. It’s a hugely complex issue. But it is a place to start, and if less children are trying to learn on an empty stomach, then this is clearly the right space to pour our care into instead.
Charities such as KidsCan are also doing hugely important work in this area. They provide lunch, shoes, raincoats, and hygiene products, just to name a few, to children who don’t have access to these items. They rely on both government funding and generous donations to run, but there are still kids falling through the gaps and going without the basics
So what really matters here? A sandwich cut into a dinosaur? Or a tangle of low self-worth about a sandwich cut into a dinosaur verses a square? And above all else, what about the children who don’t have a lunchbox to tear apart on social media? Where is the emotional outpouring for them?
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