'Is it just me, or have school lunchboxes become really complicated?'

When I was at school, I was one of those children always peering longingly into everyone else’s lunchboxes. Our lunches were wholesome and generally homemade, but lacked the highly coveted plastic-wrapped, sugar laden treats our friends received.

We were lucky to have a mum who was always around. That meant there was often a batch of freshly baked muffins or a cake on the bench when we arrived home after school. We would ravenously toss our school bags aside and reach for one of Mum’s creations. 

On special days, Mum would cook pikelets. To this day, the smell takes me straight back to being a little girl. We would hover hungrily, impatiently waiting for her to flip them, then devour them the second they came out of the pan. The pikelets would burn our mouths while butter and jam dripped down our fingers. 

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Those homemade afternoon teas would become the following days recess. On other days we had biscuits with cheese and vegemite and a piece of fruit. Lunch was consistently a sandwich. Nut free policies didn’t exist in those days, so a peanut butter sandwich was on high rotation for me while my brother stuck to ham and cheese. Lunches were humble, and easy. Looking back, they possibly lacked some nutritional value, but we survived.

Mum shopped exclusively at the supermarket – organic and speciality stores weren’t such a thing then, particularly in suburban Adelaide in the 80s. Despite that, Mum was an eco-warrior from way back. For some reason, my brother and I were always embarrassed by her taking her own shopping bags to the supermarket, but Mum had already figured out that single use plastic wasn’t a great idea. Mum refused to use glad wrap. Instead, she wrapped our sandwiches in crunchy brown paper, which we hated and tried to hide from our friends.

We now have authority that Mum was ahead of the curve on single use plastic, and we have since also learnt that it’s not great to store food in plastic, either. Those cumbersome, colourful plastic lunchboxes of the 80s and 90s have been replaced with sleek stainless steel bento boxes.

Schools now insist on nude lunches, making multiple compartments essential. They also require three separate containers: a fruit snack, recess, and lunch. It’s enough to send me into a spin each morning as I try to fill endless little compartments with exciting, fun, colourful, nutritious, snacks.

Shopping takes hours too. Yes, we have the benefit of online ordering now, but I’m constantly guilted into buying organic from small local shops. So, on a Monday morning I find myself traipsing between shops searching for free range eye fillet or locally grown pumpkin seeds.

I try to provide a different lunch each day: forget the humble sandwich. We have been taught that a sandwich isn’t sustaining enough for children, particularly if the kids aren’t keen on cold meats.

We are flooded with happy nutritionist Instagram mothers telling us that to fill children up; we need to make sure the main item for recess and lunch is a combination of carbohydrate, protein, and fat.

I find myself racking my brain to fulfil the seemingly endless criteria. I make green sausage rolls one day (they are firmly rejected), buy them sushi the next. I make wholemeal pita pizzas, tuna salad wraps, chicken schnitzel sandwiches, and zucchini fritters. I experiment with warm bolognaise served in a thermos, a Spanish-inspired pea and potato tortilla. Of course, there are also days when they get a cheese and vegemite scroll.

Schools are strict. They enforce their healthy food policies; they politely ask parents to avoid "party foods." Any non-compostable packaging will be sent home to be disposed of.

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One of my friends was openly shamed by a kindergarten teacher for sending organic rice cakes with dark chocolate. She was told that treats were best reserved for special occasions. She was mostly annoyed by how the teacher made her four-year-old son feel.

I get it. My own mum had firm policies around lunches. No roll-ups. No chips. No muesli bars. No Tiny Teddies. Lunch orders were permitted, but only on the last day of term, something she strictly enforced. At the time, my brother and I deeply resented this rule. We just wanted to be like every other kid who was lucky enough to have a sausage roll and a choccie milk.

As adults, and now parents ourselves, we understand her better. 

Now we have come full circle, it is my turn to fill the lunchboxes each day. So, I find myself following Mum’s lead. I cook from scratch and freeze it all. Savoury muffins, muesli slice, oat cookies and protein balls all get allocated to their relevant bento box compartments.

My children's tastes are somewhat superior to mine were at the equivalent age. My daughters prefer truffle cheese to standard cheddar slices. My little one loves olives, so I patiently thread them onto a toothpick for easy eating at school. I have developed an obsession about getting enough fruit and vegetables into them each day, so I find myself constantly looking for new ways to include them. Roasted broccoli with soy, grilled corn on the cob, fruit skewers and kale chips all sit along the standard cucumber sticks and cherry tomatoes.

My eldest daughter started school this year. Until a few weeks ago, 'lunch order' had never been mentioned in our house. And then out of the blue last Thursday, she came home and asked, "Mama, when can I have a lunch order?"

I didn’t skip a beat. "On the last day of each term. Oh, and on your birthday," the latter part a charitable addition to Mum’s old policy.

Elizabeth Briskin is a freelance writer who is currently completing her Masters of Writing. Previously, Elizabeth has written for The Grace Tales. Elizabeth is a mother of two young girls who lives in Melbourne and enjoys writing about motherhood, relationships and culture, as well as fashion after working in the industry for over 15 years. 

Feature Image: Getty.