I grew up in the 70's in an upper-middle class suburb of NYC. My parents were both Irish immigrants who grew up on rural farms. My mother knew how to cook, understood nutrition basics, but just didn't care enough to provide us with homecooked meals. She was usually drunk when we came home from school. If she was half in the bag , we'd actually drive to get Chinese take-out, pizza, McDonald's or on Wednesdays she would take advantage of the "Wednesday is Sundae " at Carvel. Sure, we thought it was great. If she was too drunk to drive she'd open a bag of frozen chicken and veggies , put it in a pot and add water. If she was passed out, my older brother would make pasta and add a can of sauce. We ate homeooked meals on the weekends when my dad was home. Meat and potatoes, Irish stew, good, hearty farm food. Nevertheless, when I went to college and lived with a few women in a rented house off campus I discovered many fruits and vegetables I never knew existed. I borrowed their Moosewood Cookbooks and taught myself basic nutrition and how to cook nutritious meals. I started eating correctly for the first time in my life and I was furious at my mother for her neglect.
Sometimes you just have to face the facts that certain parents don't give a crap about their children's welfare.