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Hi Reader, my fellow food lover,

Years ago, I boldly declared: kids should make their own lunch. Yes, make their own lunch. Cue the gasps, eye-rolls, and the occasional concerned “Are you sure about this?” from parents who thought I was either a little nuts or a bad mom pushing childhood out the door faster than a speeding rollercoaster.

Armed with bon mots like “Marie Antoinette said let them eat cake. I say, let them make lunch,” and “If your kids can carry 4 AP classes and still find time to Snapchat, they can make lunch,” I proudly announced this manifesto not just at home but on Facebook and here on my blog—pre- and post-pandemic. Because if you’re going to start a revolution, why not recruit an entire community?

Well, this past weekend, I got the last laugh.

Our family cookout—carefully planned so my kids and their partners could gather with me and their dad (yes, from whom I’m divorced)—turned into a full-on culinary showcase. My older daughter, chef and hostess with the mostest, grilled up a storm: jalapeño cornbread, chimichurri chicken, and homemade mac and cheese that were all 100% gluten-free (she’s been living with celiac for nearly 20 years, so this was a serious triumph).

And the secret ingredient to her most savory burger? Still under wraps—for now.

Meanwhile, I got to relax, sip my drink, and bask in the glorious fruits of my long-ago labor: teaching my kids to fend for themselves in the kitchen.

This wasn’t merely a cookout; it was proof that divorce doesn’t dictate family. Love, laughter, and shared plates still bring us together—sometimes with a little extra independence and resilience baked right in.

So, to those who thought I was nuts: thanks for the extra motivation. To those who thought I was a bad mom: I’ll let my daughter’s perfectly grilled, gluten-free creations do the talking. Also, I hope you continue to enjoy cooking separate meals for everyone in your family—bon appétit!

And to anyone still fighting the lunchbox wars—keep going. One day, you’ll be watching your kid take over the grill and feeling like a total genius for not giving in.

Lunchbox liberation isn’t only about lunch. It’s about life, family, and owning your story on your terms.

Cheers,

Best,

P.S. If this story gave you a smile (or a “heck yes!”), you’ll love what I share on my blog and Substack—where I dive deeper into writing, life’s twists and turns, and everything in between. Right now, if you subscribe, you’ll get your first year at half the price—because every story deserves to be told, and I’m here to help you tell yours.

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