I mother: How I loathe to cook

Listen. I have it easy. I know that. My husband likes, maybe even loves, to cook. I really, really wish I didn’t have to deal with food at all. Did you watch Fringe? That one show on Fox a few years ago? With the scientist who eats Twizzlers and plays with brains and a cow? In their alternate or parallel universe or whatever it was, they had egg sticks. I remember that one character peeled back the plastic on a string cheese-looking thing that packed the protein of an egg. Sometimes, I wish I were an astronaut for the food. So contained and convenient!
My husband likes to do all things food — he does all of the grocery shopping, too. On occasion, I’ll add some items to the grocery list. An example: “String cheese. Kraft, no off-brand shit.” All of this is to say I don’t have to deal much with food until Husband leaves town. Today is a weekend before Husband goes out of town. I am freaking out about dinners while he’s away.
Listen. I love to plan and to schedule. I plan ahead. If I could, though, I’d have the same thing to eat every day. Egg sticks and coffee. The kids, however, need better than that.
What shall I do? The big kid, who is 3 1/2, reliably eats peanut butter and that’s about it. Sometimes he asks for peanut butter without the bread. ? The little one, who is 18 months, reliably eats anything you put in front of her.
There’s always pizza, and some day, egg sticks.