At first blush, the request from my son’s preschool seemed reasonable. “As spring time approaches we want to encourage families to consider packing ‘waste free’ snacks and lunches, which should help boost your child’s nutritional intake, reduce waste going into landfills, and save money over time.” Sure, we’re drowning in plastic. Let’s produce less waste. It’s a sensible ask.
Yet this seemingly benign request filled me with blinding rage. (These days, I’m often on the verge of blinding rage, so it doesn’t take much). How. Dare. They.
Let me explain. And in doing so, give you a snapshot of what it means to carry the mental load as a mom in 2025.
Of all the parenting-related drudgery, packing lunches is the task I loathe most. Each morning I am confronted with seven empty bento squares that need filling. And my son, who is still in preschool, is also supposed to bring three snacks. That’s ten decisions each morning. That’s 50 decisions each week. That’s 200 decisions each month.
This wouldn’t be such a burden if it weren’t for the many, many constraints. The food has to be acceptable eaten cold. It has to be something that we have in the house that needs little to no preparation. And it has to be something my kids have a reasonable chance of eating, a goalpost that’s continuously and wildly shifting. And let’s not forget nutrition! You can’t fill every hole with cheezits. They need protein and healthy fats and veggies. But my son won’t eat hummus ever, and my daughter won’t eat hard-boiled eggs at school. “Ew. Gross.” For more examples of the cognitive load required to pack lunches, see the video below.
By the time I’ve filled the actual lunch boxes, my brain is fried from weighing the ramifications of each choice. So snacks often include a granola bar. And maybe a yogurt cup. Or an applesauce pouch. Items that come in single-use plastic containers.
When my son’s preschool asks me to pack waste-free lunches, what they’re really asking is this: Do more. Care more. Add this, the societal problem of single-use plastic packaging and the overconsumption of processed foods, to your own personal mental load. And if you can’t? Well, you probably won’t be providing “the essential nutrients needed for optimal physical growth, brain development and overall wellbeing” and you’ll be “generating significant packaging waste.”
And let’s be crystal clear. This is a request aimed (intentionally or not) at moms. Not just because we take on the lion’s share of meal planning and shopping. Not just because we’re the ones who read the school emails. (My husband would never have known about this request if I hadn’t relayed the information to him.) But also because we’re the ones most likely to feel pressure to comply.
So yeah. Message received. I probably won’t be sending fewer granola bars because *waves hands at the dumpster fire around her* I’m burned out. But rest assured I’ll feel extra guilty each time I do.
Bonus reading:
The hidden load: How ‘thinking of everything’ holds mums back
Judging what others feed their kids is a blood sport. Why?
Image courtesy of aJ Gazmen via Flickr