What is my normal 

It is 7:30 at night and I am sitting here writing to you will my kids eat a TV dinner. 

This is the first time in their lives they’ve ever had a microwavable dinner and I now feel like I have sacrificed them at the altar of some horrible future I am creating. 

The amount of guilt I have over one stupid dinner is amazing. I know it is stupid. I know it is just one solidarity day, one solitary dinner. But I still feel awful. 

They, however, think it’s the coolest thing in the world

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