The Last Lunch Note

*Copied-without permission-from the note I tucked in Abby's lunch this morning. 

This is the last lunch note I will write you.  

You were my “pack a lunch” kiddo.  While the boys always liked to buy their lunches, you preferred to pack yours, almost always.  

When you were younger, you would pack them yourself.  But in these last few years, the job fell to me.  Isn’t that weird?  I think most kids would have grown INTO the job, not out of it.  You got busy in the evenings, and began to count on your lunch being prepped, and I wore the “I pack a great lunch” badge with honor.   I never minded, particularly.  Well, to be fair, some mornings I would grumble and moan and the absolute last thing I wanted to do at 6:45 am was pack a lunch, but MOSTLY I loved it.  

You were a very thoughtful and meticulous planner.  I would know well in advance that you would like to eat chicken breasts and mini guacamole cups one week, or peanut butter and banana sandwiches another.  Cut up veggies.  Grapes.  And dips of all kinds.  Ranch, sour cream, bleu cheese, hummus, hot sauce.  If I could pour it into a tiny cup, and you could dip a veggie into it, thumbs up--lunch is served.

I could occasionally convince you to branch out.  The wrap-sandwich experiment, for example.  It didn’t work too well, until I cut your wrap into tiny pinwheels, then you liked it better.  OMG.  I think I finally get it. . .you’re actually still a toddler!  You like things in tiny pieces and anything you can dip into anything else.  Sigh.  Captain Obvious, where were you when I needed you?

There were the lunch crisis moments, those mornings when I didn’t think you were packing a lunch, and the call would come down the stairs at 7:19.  “Mom, can I have a lunch?”  Those were the days you got 1/4 of a cold Chipotle burrito from the fridge, a piece of questionable fruit, and a small handful of Halloween candy.  In April.  But you would still get a lunch note, no matter what.  

Every packed lunch gets a lunch note.  My boys got fewer, but they got them, and I had the pleasure of finding all of them, saved, every year, in the inside pockets of the soft-sided lunch boxes.  Something about those notes, being tucked away instead of tossed aside, made every note that much more important to compose.

Ahem.  Compose is a big word.  Write.  Scratch.  Scrawl.  Some were clever.  Some notes to you were honest.  Some were “good luck on your test.”  Other’s were “HI!” on a napkin.  Once or twice, when you were running out the door, I had to blow a kiss into the lunchbox and yell “LUNCH NOTE!”  (Whatever works in the moment, right?)  Many would discuss the latest "Grey’s Anatomy" episode, or Scandal, or "Secrets And Lies" (Where is that show, anyway?  Anyone?)  I’d try to be inspirational, or funny.  Or punny.  Or holiday-themed.  I would go for the laugh, but my daily goal was always the same:  to let you know that I was thinking of you while you were in the lunch room, dipping your cucumbers in the dip-of-the-day, hanging out with your girlies.  

This is your last lunch note.

I’ve told you everything I could possibly tell you, at least in lunch-note language.  But to finish it off, here you go:

Have a good day.

Sing out.  Sing your song.  Good luck on every audition, ever.

Don’t talk to boys, but if you do, be smarter than they are.  (Not hard.)

You be you, GURL.

Take your time on every test.  Read the questions carefully.  

Plan in advance, but if you don’t, make the best with what you have.

Be careful what you dip into.

Try the wrap.  

Take small bites.

There is no shelf life on Halloween candy.

Be brave.

Your hair looks great today.

When you are watching Grey’s, eat the caramels.  Think of me when you accidentally get a cream.

Send notes.  Leave notes.  

When you eat lunch, know that I am thinking of you.  

I’m proud of you.

Make good choices.

Be a good friend.

You are a star.

It’s a great day to save lives.

Where is Secrets and Lies?

I’m going to miss you, but I’ll be okay.  

I love you.  I really, really love you.

This is the last lunch note.  Signing off.  May 13, 2016.  XOXO 

Love

Mommy