It's time to pick up the kids from school and, again, I have no idea what to feed them for dinner.
Every day around 3 p.m., after working all day at my dining room table, amid piles of unpaid bills, yesterday's paper airplanes and abandoned toy figurines, I look up at the clock, startled by the hour. It's time to pick up the kids from school and, again, I have no idea what to feed them for dinner.


It's my least favourite moment of the day because it reminds me that I am not the mother I thought I'd be: the mother who has a meal plan tacked to the fridge and prepares casseroles on the weekend, who makes sure every meal has mostly protein, lots of colorful garden-fresh nutrients, and a small portion of carbs - homemade bread, natch. Yes, every day at 3 p.m. I remember that I am not that person.

Related: Ask the Expert: How to Make Simple, Healthy Dinners

I am a single mother, self-employed and hustling hard, a neat freak trapped in the body of a lazy slob, trying not to mess up my kids by letting too many of my neuroses show. And, truthfully, I no longer give a hand-cut french fry or candlelit f**k about not giving my kids memories of wafting smells of homemade love in a casserole dish every night. I am tired and I am doing the very very best that I can and it's actually pretty darn ok.

So, yes, it's at this point in the day that, at least once a week and sometimes more, I text one of my friends, usually one who will also be home alone with their kids: 'Hey, want to do dinner tonight?' When the answer is yes, there is an immediate relief because it's suddenly not all on ME to feed and parent.

It means I'll be less likely to feel the blood rising to my face when, as my kids scream and wrestle violently underfoot (quite literally) or practice ukulele in a different key than the accompanying YouTube video, I try to turn wilted spinach and frozen fish into something edible. Everything - truly, everything - is so much easier when there's a friend to distract you and make you laugh.

I read a headline recently about 'crappy dinner parties' and thought 'aha! It's not just me!' But, when I read the article, I realized that my friends and I bring it to the next level. Unlike the 'crappy dinner party' rules laid out in the article ('no hostess gifts allowed.' HA!), we are basic. Like, truly basic. We are hard-core real, hard-core truth, and hard-core modern mothers who have no time or energy for keeping our bras on after 5 p.m.

Related: My Sanity Saving Strategy for Weeknight Meals: Here's How

So, after the decision to do dinner, here's how the next part goes down: between racing to the kids' school to pick them up and taking them to music lessons, I shoot my friend a few more texts. They look something like this:

Me: 'I think I have some cheese.'

Friend: 'Ok. I have a bag of pasta. And some carrots.'

Me: 'Perfect. Mac & cheese, plus I just found a beet and some spinach, so salad too. Healthy and responsible.'

Friend: 'Awesome. I have half a bottle of red. See you at 6.'

I get the kids home and then, out of respect for my friend, I brush some dry shampoo through my hair, wash my armpits and, to be fancy, put on a cleaner t-shirt. I throw my cheese, beet, and spinach in a shopping bag and we head over to our friends' house.

When we get there, maybe there's a hamper full of unfolded laundry in the living room, or piles of dishes in the sink, and that makes me so very happy. I find warmth, validation, and the best kind of comfort in those things, and in the fact that my friend trusts me enough to show me her unvarnished truth.

The wine is poured, music is put on, the kids do their loud and kooky thing, and my friend and I cook our perfectly-acceptable-but-by-no-means-gourmet meal while catching up on our week and relieving each other's stress through laughter, empathy, and commiseration.

Then, when the food is ready and us moms are softened with wine and friendship, there's some semblance of that scene I envisioned in my naïve youth: the kids lay out placemats and set the table (because it's more fun with a friend!), and we all sit down and talk about the day we've had.

In those moments, I will tell you (at the risk of being saccharine) that I am so very grateful. I am grateful for friends who willingly, selflessly share the burden and the joy of my day. I am grateful for the memories my kids will have even if they're not the ones I scripted. I am grateful that I had cheese and a beet and spinach to make a meal from.

I am grateful that I have made peace with not being the magazine mother I thought I would be.