I planned to steam the sweet potatoes. I even bought the cute freezer trays.
But tonight? It was the pouch from the bottom of the diaper bag. Again.
And that old familiar whisper showed up: "You should be doing more."
If you’ve been there, I see you. I am you. And I want to say something out loud that took me too long to admit: Feeding your child is not about perfection.
It’s about presence. Nourishment. Repetition. Connection.
Sometimes that comes from your kitchen. Sometimes it comes from your glove compartment. And that’s okay.
Making your own baby food sounds lovely, doesn’t it? You get to hand-pick the produce: organic, non-GMO, pesticide-free. You know exactly what’s going into your baby’s belly. I used to imagine myself humming lullabies while blending carrots into a creamy orange purée.
And labeling those little jars with the date? I felt like I was nailing the whole motherhood thing. But I’ve found that the hopes I had about being this amazing mom, doing all the things, rarely survive a day of toddler reality.
My late nights make the mornings feel even earlier. Then, of course, every zoom meeting runs a little long, and then my kid dumps an entire box of cereal on the floor. That was going to be his lunch!
Dinner plans? LOL, yeah right!
Then there’s the mental load, that nonstop hum in the background reminding me of everything I should be doing. For me, it’s loudest at 3 a.m. when I remember my older kid didn’t touch a single vegetable yesterday. Or when I realized for the third week in a row that I forgot avocados at the store.
The guilt comes in quietly but stays loud.
Guilt that I didn’t make my kid’s food from scratch. Guilt that I handed over the pouch. Guilt that dinner looked like boxed mac and cheese. Again.
Here’s what I’ve learned: Guilt doesn’t make me a better parent. Showing up does.
I had to teach myself how to make peace with the pouch. And I did that by turning guilt into something else: a reminder of what matters to me, not a punishment for falling short.
Here’s what’s help me – maybe it’ll work for you:
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I Said It Out Loud.
"I feel guilty that dinner isn’t homemade tonight." And just saying it? It took the edge off. -
I Celebrated Small Wins.
That time I added a pouch of peas to my baby’s breakfast? Win. Tossed a banana into the car seat? Win. -
I Got Real About What I Could Do.
Homemade on weekends, pouches during the week. Or sometimes? Just pouches. My kids are fed. That counts.
Here’s the thing. Not all pouches are created equally. Some are just shelf-stable sugar bombs with a veggie label. And since I’ve been writing for and working with Kekoa Foods, I’ve felt a lot better about what I feed my son.
Kekoa’s baby food pouches? They’re made with the same standards I’d use in my own kitchen: fresh, organic, veggies, herbs, and spices. No added sugar or salt. No junk.
Basically, Kekoa lets me feed my kids well and still keep my sanity intact.
I still cook when I can, and I mix it with Kekoa’s Mango Parika or Curry Vegetable Mango pouches. I let my kids help. Stirring, smashing, squeezing, they seem to enjoy it, and me – I love it because it’s a different style of bonding time, around good food.
To Every Mom Who's Been There
So, some nights it’s a homemade dinner with the family. Other nights it’s a pouch while I dig through the diaper bag with one hand and hold a crying toddler with the other. That doesn’t make me a bad mom. That makes me a real one. Give yourself grace. Keep doing your best. And remember, good food and good parenting can come from a blender or a pouch. Both are made with love.