If you’ve ever hit 4:47pm and realized you’ve fed your kids nothing but vibes and accidental applesauce… hi.
This is your friendly Mom Chaos Monday reminder that dinner shows up every single damn day, like a bill you can’t ignore. And if you don’t plan even a little, the whole house starts to feel like it’s held together by duct tape and spite.
Relatable chaos: the nightly “what’s for dinner?” demon
Here’s how it goes at my place:
I’m doing twelve things at once. Someone’s yelling because the “blue cup is looking at them.” The dog is licking something it shouldn’t. A kid is asking for a snack while holding a snack. And my brain is trying to solve the ancient riddle:
What the hell are we eating tonight?
And then the spiraling starts.
- I open the fridge and stare like a raccoon in a gas station.
- I find three sad carrots, half a jar of something sticky, and a chunk of cheese with teeth marks.
- I consider ordering takeout, remember the price, and briefly fantasize about running away to live in a shed.
If you’re thinking, “Wow, this feels personal,” congrats. We’re in the same burnt-out boat.
Meal planning isn’t about being a Pinterest mom. It’s about not losing your last crumb of sanity because dinner decided to be a daily surprise attack.
How meal planning keeps the whole circus from catching fire
I used to think meal planning meant:
- color-coded spreadsheets
- homemade everything
- some perky lady whispering “just prep on Sundays!” like I have magical free time
Nope.
For real-life moms, meal planning is basically a small, practical spell you cast so Future You doesn’t get body-slammed by 5pm.
It helps because:
- Decision fatigue is real. Making one plan saves you from making 700 micro-decisions while someone cries over toast.
- You stop buying random crap. You know what you’re cooking, so you’re not panic-shopping like you’re preparing for the apocalypse.
- You feed people faster. Not gourmet. Not perfect. Just fed.
- Less waste. Because you’re not buying lettuce with the optimistic delusion you’ll become a salad person.
Also? When dinner is handled, the rest of the evening gets… not peaceful, exactly. But less murder-y.
A simple meal planning framework (not the annoying kind)
This is my “keep it together with chewing gum” method. It’s not fancy. It works.
Step 1: Pick your “default” dinners.
You need a short list of meals you can make without a full spiritual awakening.
Aim for 8–12 defaults. Stuff like:
- tacos / taco bowls
- rotisserie chicken + bag salad + bread
- spaghetti + frozen meatballs
- breakfast-for-dinner (eggs, pancakes, whatever)
- sheet pan sausage + veggies
- stir-fry with frozen veggies + rice
- grilled cheese + tomato soup
- “snack dinner” (aka a legal charcuterie situation)
These are your “I can do this half-asleep” meals. Keep them on rotation.
Step 2: Assign themes to days (optional, but it’s a lifesaver).
This is where you cheat your way into consistency.
- Monday: Pasta
- Tuesday: Tacos
- Wednesday: Sheet pan
- Thursday: Soup/sandwich
- Friday: Freezer / easy night
When your brain is mush, themes give you a rail to hold onto.
Step 3: Plan only 4–5 dinners, not 7.
Listen. Something will happen. Someone will get invited somewhere. You’ll have leftovers. You’ll be too tired to chop a single onion without crying.
Plan 4–5 dinners. Leave the rest as:
- leftovers
- breakfast for dinner
- freezer meal
- “we’re eating whatever is closest to expiring” night
This is not failure. This is strategy.
Step 4: Build your grocery list straight from the plan.
Not from “what looks good.” Not from “maybe I’ll bake.” From the plan.
I do it like this:
- Protein: chicken, beef, tofu, whatever your house eats
- Produce: the actual veggies for the meals + 1–2 easy fruits
- Carbs: rice, pasta, tortillas, potatoes, bread
- Convenience: frozen veg, bag salad, sauce jars, pre-cooked stuff
- Snacks: yes, buy them on purpose so you’re not robbed later
Convenience items are not lazy. Convenience items are how we survive.
Step 5: Do one tiny prep thing (or none, honestly).
If you’ve got the energy, do one of these:
- wash fruit
- cook a pot of rice
- chop one veggie
- brown meat for tacos
- portion snacks so you’re not opening 14 bags a day
If you don’t? That’s fine. The plan still helps because it removes the “what the hell are we eating” panic.
Step 6: Give yourself permission to repeat meals.
Your family does not require a new culinary experience nightly.
They require:
- food
- roughly on time
- and a parent who isn’t about to combust
Repeat the winners. Retire the meals everyone hates. Stop auditioning dinners like you’re on a cooking show. You’re not. You’re just trying to get to bedtime.
If you’re drowning, start here
- Pick 4 dinners you can make on autopilot.
- Write them down on a sticky note or your phone.
- Buy only what those dinners need (plus normal basics).
- Add 2 emergency meals to your house: frozen pizza, nuggets, ramen, whatever counts as “fed.”
- Choose one night for leftovers so you can breathe.
- When it falls apart (because life), don’t scrap everything—just slide the meals down a day.
That’s it. Not perfect. Not aesthetic. But functional as hell.
Soft CTA: if you want the shortcut, I’ve got you
If this made you feel even 2% more in control, and you want someone else to do the brain work, I’ve got meal plans sitting in my Stan Store. No pressure, no “clean girl” nonsense—just real-life, mom-friendly plans that make dinner less of a daily crisis.
https://stan.store/ThePottyMouthPanda
Go peek if you want. Or don’t. Either way, you deserve to eat something that isn’t your kid’s leftover crusts while standing at the counter like a goblin.
The Potty Mouth Panda 