Yesterday I learned that my gut does not care that I’m the only adult home with two kids. I ate a few sugar-free candies from the snack bin while making their dinner, then finished their cold mac and cheese. Big mistake. Ten minutes later I was doing the clenched walk of shame to the bathroom while my youngest yelled for more milk. I made it, but it was close enough that I built a little go-bag: wipes, spare underwear, leggings, and a ziplok for the ruined stuff. It now lives by the front door. The snack bin got cleaned out too — no more sugar-free candy, just turkey sticks, almonds, and applesauce pouches. Chaotic mealtimes are hard enough without gambling on my own stomach. Anyone else keep a just-in-case bag, or am I the only one?
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