This doesn't look like chicken

My oldest daughter is a picky eater. Scratch that. She's the pickiest of the eaters.

I very much want to serve her nutritious, gluten free well balanced meals.  

It's a dream of mine to post cutesy Instagram worthy photos of kid approved, healthy and cute as hell meals that I've prepared for her. Instead, I'm left with the realization that she prefers nuked pizza, what part of the pig is that? Bacon and pepperoni slices right out of the bag. I don't Snapchat or post her meals. Although, I'm pretty sure that I couldn't do a better job than Tostinos of photographing their pizza rolls anyway. I mean they do that shit for a living. 

Besides, there's no filter for shame. 

I roll my eyes at the parents with perfect children who eat Mason jar prepped salads and drink almond milk with apple slices for dessert. Thank you for the eye rolls as well. I see the stares you give me when I pull out a honey bun for breakfast and pass it to my child while we commute to school. Oh, she shouldn't be eating that 7 in the morning? Then how come Cinnabon sells them? Answer me that!

Do I feel guilty for feeding her the delicious cinnamon infused, sent from the dessert Gods pastry? Hell to the NO! 

I also don't feel guilty when at dinner, I lie to my daughter and tell her that the steamed Salmon and Asparagus we're having is fancy Chicken and Broccoli from the Italian spot. The Chinese restaurant has ran out of their version. 

I keep a straight face when she tells me "Mommy, this doesn't look like chicken." My eyelashes barely flicker when I reply "sweetheart that's because it's Italian chicken. The chickens look different over there" 

I'm reminded that I didn't have time to shower as I feel the sweat that runs down my back as she gives me the "are you lying?" stare. 

My heart thumps like a bass drum as she takes her first bite of the lie I am feeding her. She takes a second. And then a third. I pat myself on the back. My victory is short lived. She didn't eat any of her "Broccoli.  

When I grocery shop I see you perfect mom holding your grocery lists written in neat cursive writing. You know your phone has an app for that, right? I pull out my iPhone and go to the notes section where my list is well secured from your prying eyes. 

1. Snacks
2. Water
3. Meat
4. Microwaveable food 
5. Juice 
6. Vegetables 

I review it twice to make sure that I haven't missed anything. Nope, all the necessities are listed. I add fruit for good measure, I mean I'm not a monster. 

I'm sick and tired of you "I make all my meals from scratch" moms who didn't even know that Uber delivers food now. You're welcome. 

I'm not perfect. I don't want to be. I don't want to make perfect fruit salads, or Pinterest worthy gluten free pastries. I live a fast life. I'm always on the go. To me microwaveable dinners are a staple, not an option. My children and husband understand this. I don't have the luxury of making my toddlers apple sauce in a cutesy baby blender. Gerber does that for me. 

Don't get me wrong. I can cook. I can cook the hell out of so many meals, I've actually seriously contemplated writing my recipes down. Seriously. I just like options. I like being able to say "Honey let's order in tonight.” I also quite enjoy being able to make a three course meal, dessert included that would rival any of you perfect mommas. 

My hat goes off to you mothers who rock the hell out of mom jeans, meal prep two weeks in advance and still have the time to be PTA president and attend mommy and me meetings. And, oh yeah you guys can bake some damn good cookies. Bring chocolate chip to the next meeting. 

So next time you're at your beautifully decorated dining room table, eating your homemade spaghetti with the homemade sauce and the homemade wheat noodles, raise a glass of vintage wine to yourself. Your perfect mom title is safe. 

I'll be standing over a sink of dirty dishes, nuking dinner and drinking a Heineken.