Let me paint you a picture: I’m in my first trimester of pregnancy. I’m exhausted, queasy at all hours, and suddenly repulsed by anything that once resembled a real meal. Meanwhile, my toddler—my precious, ever-opinionated snack connoisseur—has decided that snacks are not just a food group, but a lifestyle.

Breakfast? No, no. He wants bunny crackers.
Lunch? “I said I want the purple pouch.”
Dinner? “How about…yogurt raisins and string cheese. Again.”

I used to roll my eyes at the idea of kids living off Goldfish. And now? I am that mom. My kid’s plate looks like a party mix explosion, and what’s worse (or better?), so does mine.

Because let’s be honest: pregnancy nausea doesn’t care about balanced nutrition. You either eat six crackers over the course of three hours or you eat nothing. You nibble half a granola bar, cry a little, and call it dinner. You try to make a real meal and gag halfway through the smell of onions. So now we’re just two snack-grazing goblins living our best chaotic lives, one bite-sized carb at a time.

I wish I could say this was a parenting low point. But honestly? I kind of respect us. We’re surviving on snacks and vibes. We’ve bonded over fruit gummies. We’ve shared emergency pretzels in the car like war buddies. We’ve both crawled into bed with cracker crumbs on our shirts and no regrets.

One day, I will cook a full meal again. And one day, he will eat a vegetable with minimal bribes. But today? Today we snack.

And honestly? That’s enough.