I follow a couple of food blogs and I love opening my reader and looking at the daily photos. If it looks delicious, and something I’d be likely to make, I star it to try for later. This is an act of faith on my part, since I generally prefer to see a large number of five star reviews before I attempt a new recipe. But for certain bloggers, with really great pictures, I trust them.
This blog, Another Lunch, also has amazing pictures. The blogger’s children have the happiest, healthiest, funniest, most delicious looking lunches ever. But instead of feeling inspired, I feel inadequate. There is no way I am going to cut every ounce of River’s food into a cool shape, such as an angel, a bunny, a mouse or a monster.
This blog, Another Lunch, also has amazing pictures. The blogger’s children have the happiest, healthiest, funniest, most delicious looking lunches ever. But instead of feeling inspired, I feel inadequate. There is no way I am going to cut every ounce of River’s food into a cool shape, such as an angel, a bunny, a mouse or a monster.
It’s even less likely that I would ever take the time to affix edible faces onto each of these creatures. Or purchase and maintain the variety of food items necessary to have a selection of six or so different items every day.
Why?
1. I’d have to go purchase special food prep items to do these things, and I can’t see spending the money.
2. It seems like the kind of thing where once you do it once, or a few times, regular food won’t seem the same. I’d be stuck in a rut of obligation to keep it up.
3. I don’t have the time to do this. Or as the time-management book 168 Hours says instead, “It’s not a priority.” In the extra 20 minutes minimum it would take me to beautify a lunch in this way, I could have 20 minutes of sleep, I could read a chapter in a novel, I could take a walk with River, I could cook something that the whole family would enjoy.
This is not meant as a criticism of people who make these lunches. Wow, they are beautiful and I’m in awe. Their kids are lucky. But man, I really hope no one in River’s preschool comes to class with a lunch like this. It’s one of those things that if he doesn’t know it exists, he won’t miss it. He’ll have a happy life, and I’ll have more time.
Why?
1. I’d have to go purchase special food prep items to do these things, and I can’t see spending the money.
2. It seems like the kind of thing where once you do it once, or a few times, regular food won’t seem the same. I’d be stuck in a rut of obligation to keep it up.
3. I don’t have the time to do this. Or as the time-management book 168 Hours says instead, “It’s not a priority.” In the extra 20 minutes minimum it would take me to beautify a lunch in this way, I could have 20 minutes of sleep, I could read a chapter in a novel, I could take a walk with River, I could cook something that the whole family would enjoy.
This is not meant as a criticism of people who make these lunches. Wow, they are beautiful and I’m in awe. Their kids are lucky. But man, I really hope no one in River’s preschool comes to class with a lunch like this. It’s one of those things that if he doesn’t know it exists, he won’t miss it. He’ll have a happy life, and I’ll have more time.
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