Sometimes even ordering pizza sounds like work.
Some days, survival is an achievement. Forget gourmet – there are days when even ordering pizza feels like an Olympic sport. If you’re living through chaos, overwhelm, loss, burnout, or just ordinary life (because, honestly, life’s chaotic without any extras), this is for you.
Ordering takeout sounds easy in theory, but then you remember:
- You have to find your wallet.
- You might have to talk to someone.
- Pants. Gross.
And on those days, cooking from scratch sounds about as appealing as bathing a cat.
But whether it’s delivery pizza, Chinese, or your sacred, greasy fish and chips, takeout adds up fast—financially and physically. You know that. I know that. This isn’t a post about why you should cook. You already know home-cooked is better.
This is a post for the days when the people just need fed and your brain is somewhere in a blanket fort yelling, “I live here now.”
Prepping on the Bright Days
Because Future You deserves a hug. Or at least a casserole.
But here’s the trap.
You feel amazing. Motivated. Productive! So … you roast a turkey. Heck, maybe you throw a ham in the oven while you’re at it.
Look at you go. So much meat. So many meals. You’re unstoppable.
Until you are.
Because now you have to let that meat cool, debone it, pack it up, maybe boil the bones for broth (which has it’s own steps). But you’re no longer unstoppable. In fact, your brain’s screaming “lol nope” and your body has filed a formal complaint with HR.
So you shove the whole roaster into the fridge and promise that Future You will totally deal with it.
Tomorrow.
Spoiler: You used up tomorrow’s spoons today. And now that glorious turkey might as well go straight to the compost heap, because no one’s eating it unless it’s sliced and prepped, and you are NOT up to that nonsense right now.
So there are two really good options.
Option one: Do less.
Yes, I said it. Do less. Roast one chicken. Just one. Make it your goal to get it cooked, cooled, deboned, and get those bones into the freezer.
Don’t even think about making broth unless you’re riding an ADHD hyperfocus wave and have nothing better to do. (Even then, I don’t recommend it – the freezer’s your friend)
This is not the time to turn into some Victorian kitchen martyr.
Option two: Drag a friend into the chaos.
This one’s my favorite.
Liv comes over with her grocery bags and whatever she’s contributing to our mutual “let’s not starve later” session. We cook, we bag, we label (if we remember), we chat, and we caffeinate like our lives depend on it – which, tbh, they kind of do. By the end, we both have stocked freezers and we haven’t burned out because we split the workload. It’s like productive socializing with bonus food.
Batch Cooking: Soup Is Love in a Pot
You don’t have to be a gourmet. You don’t even have to be fully awake. Make a big ol’ pot of soup, stew, chili, spaghetti sauce—whatever you can dump in a pot and ignore for a few hours. It won’t win awards, but it’ll reheat like a dream. Corn chowder is a win around here. Baked beans and wieners, if your family eats them. And when everything sucks? That leftover spaghetti becomes the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Freezer Stash: Lazy Genius Mode
Freeze. The. Things.
Casseroles, pasta bakes, rice-and-beans, even just cooked meat you can zap and throw on something vaguely edible.
Pro tip: you can thaw things properly in the fridge. Will you? Debatable.
Add an hour to the cooking time and accept your fate.
Also, let’s not pretend I always remember to take things out of the freezer on time.
Snack Hacks: Weaponized Laziness
My children are living proof that if food is visible and easy, it will vanish.
Apples hidden in the crisper? Rotting sacrifices to the fruit gods.
Apples on the coffee table? Gone.
Same goes for sliced meat, mini sausages, boiled eggs – if it’s prepped and grabby, it gets eaten. It’s like magic. Lazy, chaotic magic.
It’s cheaper to cut up your own veggies for this stuff, but if you pay the pre-cut, I’m not judging. Just don’t hide them in the veggie crisper until they’re rotten.
Zero Brain Cells, Zero Spoons, Still Gotta Eat
Some days you need a meal plan. Other days you need a panic button. Welcome to that section.
This is your permission slip to keep some “not ideal but still real” food around.
Not gourmet.
Not pretty.
But edible, filling, and more nutritious than staring blankly into the fridge until you cry. And the best part – if you spend a little bit of time on your good days to teach them, even an eight year can make most of these.
And someday you’ll hear “Maman, I know you don’t feel well, but will you eat a cheese omelet if I make one?” (Say yes and bask in pride because you deserve it.)
Here are my go-to options for when I’m mentally rebooting and just trying to keep everyone alive:
Bagels + Cream Cheese
Soft enough for kids, filling enough for adults. Add sliced cucumber or lunch meat if you’re fancy. If not? Still counts.
Campbell’s Tomato Soup + Milk
It’s not health food, but it’s warm and easy. Even an 8-year-old can heat it up while you lie on the floor making dolphin noises. Toast is nice, and easy to do. If you’ve taught the kids to make grilled cheese, you’ve got a full meal.
Canned Ravioli or Pasta
Judge all you want, but my kids will eat this without complaint. When I asked our pediatrician, he said, “Sometimes, it is all they will eat. Yes, of course keep some on hand always.” So there – a medical opinion. Heat. Dump into bowls. Done.
Tuna + Crackers
Tuna straight from the can or stirred with mayo. Pair it with crackers or shove it between two slices of bread. Instant lunch.
Baked Beans on Toast
Yes, it’s a British thing. But it’s also hot, filling, has protein and fiber, and doesn’t require any emotional commitment. And yes, that’s plain canned baked beans heated on the stove or microwave and scooped on plain white buttered toast.
Instant Rice + Canned Meat + Soy Sauce
Microwave rice. Dump in some canned chicken or ham. Splash on soy sauce. Pretend you made stir fry. It’s fine.
Instant Ramen + Egg
Boil water. Toss in a noodle brick. Crack an egg in. You are now officially a chef in college. Add frozen peas if you want to feel virtuous.
Eggs Any Way You Can Manage Them
Scrambled, fried, hard boiled in advance – whatever works. Eggs are protein magic and they cook fast. If you’re feeling energetic and want something that will make Future You very happy, boil a dozen eggs, peel them, and pop them into the fridge. Instant food.
Meal Replacement Drinks, Cereal, or Even a Dang Protein Bar
Listen. If all you can manage is a drinkable breakfast at 5 p.m., that’s still something. Don’t make it a moral issue.
These are not aspirational meals. These are the edible equivalent of putting on clean(ish) sweatpants and calling that self-care.
You don’t need to be thriving every day. Sometimes, you’re surviving. And that is more than enough.
When Ordering Out Feels Like a Boss Fight
Sometimes even summoning the will to open an app feels like a side quest you’re failing. (Have I been listening to the kids talk about games too much?)
Make a “Too Fried to Think” List
Stick it on the fridge. Keep it short. Include your go-to takeout places, what people actually eat, and which places you regret every single time.
You don’t need to be debating sauce choices when your brain is already wheezing into a paper bag.
App It Up: No Pants, No Problem
Bless the apps that let you order in total silence and ask for the food to be left on the porch like a feral raccoon.
Minimal human interaction. Maximum reward.
Honestly, we live in the future. Take advantage.
Ditch the Guilt, Keep the Grease
Yes, takeout is expensive. Yes, it’s not ideal. Yes, I said all that earlier.
But if it’s the only way to get calories into your meat suit today? It’s valid.
Fed is always better than not fed. I learned that over the years while breastfeeding (or not) my babies, and it’s just as valid when you’re fifty.
Just, you know – don’t let the pizza place know you better than your therapist does. Balance is key.
However, guilt helps no one.
Embrace the Chaos (and Maybe a Bit of Cheese)
This isn’t about becoming Meal Prep Royalty™ or always having dinner on the table at 6:00 with cloth napkins and a side of smug.
This is about feeding yourself somehow, anyhow, even when your brain feels like scrambled eggs.
Every time you shove something vaguely edible into your face instead of collapsing into a pit of self-loathing? That’s a win.
Every frozen lasagna you remembered to thaw, or at least stick in the oven early enough to thaw+cook before dinner time? Victory.
Every time you avoid the DoorDash spiral? Gold star.
So here’s to surviving the rough days – pants optional.
Here’s to the frozen meals, the grabby snacks, the greasy takeout, and the tiny acts of brilliance that keep us fed through the fog.
Because some days, just getting fed is an act of defiance. And you, my chaotic little genius, are doing just fine.
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