Jane Pratt, Worst Mom in the World: Plagiarism Edition

Publish date:
January 20, 2012
lunch, jane's stuff, Worst Mom In The World. plagiarizing yourself

This is me at 6:30 this morning (ok, 7), pulling out a batch of lunch-box notes I've stuck in this year along with my daughter's peanut-butter sandwiches, water, side and treat (she totally nailed me yesterday by telling me the treat had tasted like the inside of my bag -- it was a free-candy-thingy from the hotel on that last work trip I went on and had been in my bag and I'd found it while making lunch and thought, "score!"). I know I don't make "good" lunches. When my daughter's best friend is over, she sometimes takes me aside and tells me what I'm doing wrong -- how not to make the sandwich get squished by using tinfoil instead of baggies, not to continue to use oreos when the middle is all hard, etc. I really do want to throw the parts of sandwiches Charlotte doesn't eat in there for the next day and don't like food waste, but I don't do that.

Back to the notes: I know that this doesn't qualify as truly "bad mom" stuff -- for that, go here. However, I am having a much easier time writing this dumb little thing to you right now than this dumb little note I am about to put in her lunch. I do it on about a weekly basis. She really likes them and asks for them, so I do it. I am truly out of material. That's why I keep all these notes -- to steal ideas or phrasings from. (Also to remind myself of all the work I do for this kid when I am questioning that I'm not doing enough or doing it well enough -- if there are moms out there who don't feel this way, PLEASE tell me how you do it. Seriously.)

My radio producer actually gave me a book of lunch-box notes that I stole some ideas from, too. In any case, this ties into that encounter I had last weekend at the grocery store: Did parents used to do this lunch-box-note nonsense? My mom didn't. Am I being a stage mom in wanting my kid to have a note that will make her look good when it gets passed around the lunch table, as they do? And when can I stop? I feel like I am kind of attachment-parenting about this, in that I want to keep doing them until she no longer wants them. Hmmmm. What do you do? What did your parents do? Help, please.

Okay, back to the note at hand (at least I draw good puppy paw-prints).


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