Cookies & Cream Popsicles

Let me start out by prefacing todays post with an explanation–I am a crier. Like, a big one.

I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad. Anger frequently reduces me to tears and frustration and confusion can level me within minutes. I wear my emotions all over my face and have absolutely ZERO CHILL when it comes to tear control. Basically I am one gigantic walking emoji. For better or for worse.

Which is what makes what I’m about to encounter tomorrow morning just a bit awkward for just about everyone involved. 

Because tomorrow morning my son will participate in a school tradition lovingly referred to as the fifth grade “high five hallway.” (aka the last time he will walk through the halls of the only elementary school he has ever known with his classmates while the entire school family– students teachers and parents–cheer them on). And I’m going to have to go and stand there, using every last shred of strength and will in my bones so as to not become that mom in the hall, talking myself off the ledge with a gentle whispered cadence of “Be cool, Meg. Be cool.”

I think we can all agree there is about a zero percent chance of me being cool, right? 

Now I’m going to try to keep it together, I swear. I will work hard to channel all of the grace and poise of Jackie O as my baby walks through the halls one last time. I am going to work to keep my tears down to a gentle dainty tissue dab. I am going to fight to save the soap opera dramatics until I reach the safety and privacy of the front seat of my car. But I’m making no promises. 

Because these halls are the same halls that I walked him down, holding that little five year old hand, on his first day of kindergarten. These halls watched as I walked out of his room that day not so many years ago with tears in my eyes because he was so brave but so scared. This was just yesterday, I swear it, friends. 

These halls watched him grow from a tiny little boy, a baby really, who loved Sesame Street and SpiderMan and Buzz Lightyear into a shadow of a teenager, now all gangly limbs and pre-pubescent body, that loves LeBron James and Fortnite and the freedom of going to the park with his friends. 

These halls watched as we struggled through friend issues, school issues, behavior issues–forcing this momma to demonstrate her Olympic crying skills in the office of the sweet, sweet guidance counselor more than once. And these halls helped him through all of that so that we are now going to send him off a smart, kind, funny and quirky boy, totally ready for middle school. 

These are good halls with good teachers, principals and families that care. It’s a bubble of sorts, but in the best way possible. I know these kids that he’s walking the hall with tomorrow; I know their parents. They’ve been in my house, they’ve shared in his life for the past 6 years. They’ve become family, this has become a home. 

And I’m supposed to just stand there like a stoic as he walks his last walk through them? Totally not cool and totally not possible.

I’m not sure what sadist created this “tradition.” One that clearly doesn’t understand mothers and how our children are our hearts and what it does to us to watch those hearts walking around right outside of our very bodies with the audacity to grow up and move on to bigger and better things. I’m sure the intentions were good, but dang, not ok. NOT OK, friends.

Because the thing is when I look at him, I still see that tiny little newborn baby from 11 years ago. I still see his determined toddler self. I still see that nervous and scared five year old kindergartener. He’s still that baby in my heart, and I have this sneaking suspicion that he always will be. 

Remember when your kids were babies, I’m talking like right out of the womb infants, and someone told you to enjoy the moment because it goes so fast but all you could really think about was the fact that you hadn’t slept in what felt like forever, hadn’t showered in a week and you were pretty sure that that crusty patch in your scalp was really dried spit-up? So you really just hated that wise sage-y person telling you all of this at that moment, right? Remember that?

Well, it’s true. I blinked and this happened. I blinked and we’re here.

I’m crying right now as I write out these words. Tomorrow is going to be ugly.

I’ve already warned him that I am most likely going to embarrass him. I’ve given him permission to pretend like he doesn’t know who I am as I cry like a baby into a wadded up grandma tissue that I may or may not have balled up in my sleeve. And we both know how funny this is because there is absolutely no chance on this earth that I would ever let him ignore me, especially in a moment like this. But it’s not funny ha-ha. It’s like funny sad, because I’m going to be a mess.

And so help me, if they play that ridiculously sad “Let them Be Little ” song tomorrow as they walk I will honestly die. Just die of sadness and nostalgia right there in the middle of the hallway never to be heard from again.

You’ve been warned, friends. You’ve been warned. 

And in honor of this awesome boy, the one who challenges me and changes me and reminds me that grace and love are the answer to every single thing we face, from the big to the little, I am sharing a recipe I created at his request and almost solely because it is his favorite thing on earth. This kid isn’t much of a foodie, much to his mom’s chagrin he would live on egg sandwiches, yogurt and plain baked chicken and be totally happy. But there is one thing that he loves beyond all measure–cookies and cream ice cream. It’s his absolute favorite and when I created berries and cream popsicles a while back (completely delicious recipe here) he begged me to create these just for him.

It took a few tries to get them right, you have to have the right technique otherwise you have a gigantic cluster of cookies at the top and cream at the bottom because the cookies are heavier than the cream and sink while freezing. But if you freeze the cream a bit before mixing them together it has just enough density to keep them evenly distributed. And the result is this gorgeous popsicle with cookies evenly distributed through a smooth and just sweet enough cream. Perfect for the kiddos and even the grown ups in your life. 

So, my dear dear readers, pray for me tomorrow. If you’re a parent of a graduating kiddo–whether it’s from pre-school or elementary school or high school or college, know that I’m with you in heart. It’s tough. It’s heart breaking. It’s bitter sweet. They’re our babies for such a short period of time, it seems, but somehow they always stay that way in our hearts. And maybe that’s the beauty of parenting and being a mom. Maybe that’s why God created us, so that we can love this deeply, with this much intensity, but still have to let them go. Let them grow. Watch them fly. This is real life, friends. And it’s causing me to have a little mommy heartache today. But in the best way possible. 

Peace, love, and heartache,

Meg

Cookies and Cream Popsicles

March 4, 2020

Servings: 6

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By: Meaghan Dawson

Ingredients

• 2 cups heavy cream
• 3 tablespoons maple syrup
• 2 teaspoons vanilla
• 1 sleeve chocolate sandwich cookies

Directions

• Step 1 In a large bowl combine the cream, syrup and vanilla, stirring until fully mixed.
• Step 2 Place in freezer for 15 minutes.
• Step 3 Meanwhile, place cookies in a large ziploc bag and seal tightly.
• Step 4 Using a rolling pin, pan or baseball bat (depending on your current aggression level) crush them to your liking–we think it’s best to have a mix of large cookie pieces and tiny crumbs.
• Step 5 Remove the cream from the freezer and stir, there may be a film starting to form on the top and sides, that’s ok.
• Step 6 Add the cookies to the cream and stir to combine.
• Step 7 Fill popsicle molds to the top and cover, freezing for at least 6 hours before serving.
• Step 8 ENJOY!

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