Every so often, I see a commercial on TV that makes me dream of a different life.
In this case, it’s the Giant Eagle commercial featuring the company’s CEO packing lunches for her three children in the morning, before school starts.
The commercial starts off by showing the mom, sitting in her updated/granite counter-topped kitchen, with her hair flowing around her shoulders, drinking what I am going to assume is a nice, hot cup of coffee.
As the commercial progresses, viewers see the woman shopping in “her” grocery store, buying the freshest produce.
Then, in the next second, she is in “her” kitchen, at the counter, laughing, talking and having a grand-time all while “her” three children (gladly) help her assemble sandwiches and other lunch-time goodies.
Everyone is dressed perfectly, ready to start their day.
There is no fighting. There is no screaming. There is no name-calling. There is no “I don’t like THAT!” There is no, “I won’t eat it!”
What I could give to have that experience – I am not asking for it daily. Once a week would be ideal. I’d even settle for once a month.
Instead, let me give you a glimpse into my morning routine of packing lunches.
Me: “Are you buying lunch today?” I yell to my 10-year-old.
Him: “What are we having?” he yells back to me.
Me: “Hotdogs on a whole-grain bun, French fries, sliced red peppers, a fruit cup and milk” I recite back to him while trying to drink my lukewarm coffee.
Him: “No! The hotdogs are gross and the peppers are old!” he declares from the living room.
So, I begin the task of “What will he eat today?”
I must share that the 10-year-old does not eat lunchmeat (unless it’s on a Subway Sub); peanut-butter and jelly; and he does not like plain white bread.
That leaves me with … well, not much.
The silver-lining is that he will eat Colby cheese on a croissant. He will also eat cheese and a slice of pepperoni on a dinner roll.
That’s about it.
The rest of the lunch consists of items I call, “He better eat this!”
There have been countless times when I write a note and stick it in his lunchbox. The post-it notes read: “Eat the apple!” “Eat the sandwich!” “Eat your entire lunch!”
I wonder what goes through is mind when he sees these notes? Probably something like, “Gosh, my mom is so LAME!” as he crumbles up the paper and tosses it in the trash.
Funny, I didn’t see that version on the Giant Eagle commercial.
Then again, the mom on camera wasn’t wearing her jammies; hair sticking up in every direction; twins clinging to her legs; and drinking (now) cold coffee.
Because that is what my mornings are like – and my guess is, 99 percent of America has mornings like I do and not the type portrayed on TV.