'I'm a teacher who would constantly judge mums on their lunchboxes. Now, I get it.'

I'll admit, I used to be the teacher that judged parents based on what they had packed in their child's lunchbox. I would scoff at packaged chips and muesli bars and nod my head in approval at carrot sticks with hommus.

I'd wonder why some parents would feed their children what appeared to be healthy, nutritious meals while others would pump them full of processed foods.

After having my own child, I now understand why. 

Just like how I swore I wouldn't allow my kids iPads at mealtimes, parenthood has served me up an extra large helping of humble pie, one that my child refuses to eat. Because that's our problem, he refuses to eat pretty much everything.

What he does eat, I celebrate. Whether it's a bite of toast, a punnet of blueberries or tinned spaghetti, I am happy when my fourteen-month-old son opens his mouth for a spoonful of, well, pretty much anything. 

Watch: Are you sick of the lunchbox police? Post continues below.

Early on, we tried baby-led weaning. We offered up strips of medium cooked steak, roasted sweet potato and fruit platters. Sometimes, he would eat the lot and I would feel like I'd cracked the Da Vinci Code.

But then the next day would roll around and he'd pick up the pieces of what used to be his favourite meal and hurl them onto the floor, deadpan and without the slightest care that I'd just mopped only an hour ago. Or worse, he'd scream, arch his back and we'd both end up on the floor in a mess of tears and smeared food that no one had bothered to eat.

Now when my son eats, it's usually in between stints of playing in the lounge room or absentmindedly watching The Wiggles while my husband and I chase him around with a spoonful of something that's come from a packet, Weetbix mostly. Sure, I don't feel great about it. I would much prefer to share a big bowl of vegetable stir fry or bolognese with him, but for now, I'm just happy if he eats anything. 

"You were exactly the same," reminds my mum. "I took you to so many different pediatricians, nutritionists and therapists about your eating and in the end I just let it be." 

While I know deep down she's right and that this too shall pass, just as it did for me, I feel a lot of shame and anxiety around what I feed my son. 

Everytime I go through the supermarket checkout and look at the conveyer belt laid with packaged food items or when I tear open a new box of baby biscuits that I know for sure he'll eat, I feel a pang of guilt.

I was prepared for the terrible sleep and the loss of freedom when I entered into motherhood but I wasn't prepared for the constant food anxiety I have when it comes to his mealtimes, anxiety I'm desperately hoping won't rub off on him. 

I've learnt a lot about children in my fourteen months as a parent, more than I ever learnt in my four years at uni becoming a teacher.

The biggest lesson being that every child is different. I have friends with toddlers who eat platefuls of food and others who eat barely anything, just like my son. Often it's nothing that the parents themselves are doing to encourage this type of eating, it's just the phase their child is in at that particular moment. 

As I keep trying to feed my son something nutritious that he will actually eat and enjoy, I am reminded of fellow parents enduring the same battle each time one of my fussy students opens their lunchbox. 

Now I'm no longer the teacher who judges parents for what they put in their child's lunchbox because I've learnt that this gig is tough. We don't need to waste energy on judging each other when we could be supporting each other instead.

I'm learning about kids and parenthood through a different lens this time. One that holds a lot more compassion and empathy towards parents. 

Feature Image: Getty.