Or alternately titled, Stop Sweating The Small Stuff.
When kiddo started at her new preschool, I was in a full-on lather over the Quality of Lucia's Lunches. I selected and purchased an lunch box that was whimsical while being the right kind of plastic while being affordable while being cute while being... you get the picture.
For her first few days, I packed the same thing for her: 1/2 a turkey sandwich with avocado, a piece of fresh fruit, and dried fruit like raisins or apricots. (totally projecting my own love of the exact same lunch every day during stressful times onto my kid). I was convinced that teachers would judge the contents of said lunchbox by the quality of ingredients. Nitrate-free turkey from whole foods, bread without HFCS, etc. I'd wrap the 1/2 sandwich in parchment paper (plastic bags are so 2005, I tsked), and -- wait for it -- put one of her rewards stickers from potty training on top of it. [Side note: Imagine my devastation upon learning that stickers, or anything for that matter, do not stick to parchment paper. Giant duh, but also OH NO.]
But then after a few weeks we noticed that she was coming home with more than half of her lunch uneaten. Dude. Not cool, Lucia. So we tried to pack her other things; turkey in a tortilla, almond butter and raspberry jam sandwiches, for example. She'd come home most days having only nibbled at it. Aside from my crankiness over a perfectly good wasted almond butter sandwich, I started to get disillusioned with the whole thing. Pete's work business dried up just about the same time, and I had to go out of town so I didn't have a choice to continue wringing my hands over the whole thing. I handed off the Making of Awesome Lunches task to him. And surprise, nothing really fell apart as a result. We send her to school with healthy food she likes to eat. Most of the time she eats it.
The end. I let go, and shit didn't fall apart. I know, you've been telling me this for like, years, but here I am, doing it all on my own.