Orange Basil Butter Cookies

Last night we took our annual family jaunt through the lights of Frisco Square. If you don’t know what that is, well, it’s a drive-thru light show coordinated to music. It’s adorable and we do a drive-thru every year followed by a trip through our neighborhood with hot chocolate and light gazing We’ve been doing it for years.

This time, I thought I would be a little self-promotional and record some of the lights and drop a little “We were here” share on IG. Because it’s what I do, y’all. It was a great plan. But my execution, well…..

This video will never see the light of day.

And not because I have a shaky hand. Though I do. Or because it didn’t come out. It did. No. It won’t ever go public because it’s not cute. It’s not fun. It’s awful. No, not the lights. But the utter chaos erupting in the seats behind me, all captured in the crystal clear audio of my phone. You hear the Christmas music, yes, but over that you hear my twelve-year-old who seemed intent on ruining a good time, screaming “MOSH PIT” over and over for no known reason. And then layered in you hear his brother/mortal enemy, just a year younger, yelling “SHUT UP” because, let’s face it, the mosh pit thing is weird. And then, in an effort to save the family cheer and protect the peace at all costs, you hear Kenzie, God bless her little heart, saying “OH I love this song. These lights are so pretty.”

Sadly, her efforts were no match for the mosh pit.

And this, my friends, sums up this stage of life pretty well. A camrea roll filled with not fit FB moments with your family. No one wants to see the nitty-gritty of the middle years. Moments like these aren’t insta-worthy. They probably even make you cry. These videos don’t get likes. They’re not “cute” and at their most basic, they’re quite embarrassing. The middle years, for all intents and purposes, are invisible.

It’s a strange time. This I’m realizing. What used to be cute, it’s not so much anymore. What used to seem hard, the sleepless nights and the potty training, well it’s a virtual walk in the park next to the self-restraint needed to NOT slap your child clear across the face when he is SO UNBELIEVABLY RUDE to you for no reason other than you are alive. These are the middle years.

The middle years look a lot like NOT sending Christmas cards to your friends and family. Because a baby crying and a toddler pouting is adorable. But a twelve-year-old smirking and refusing to smile? That just looks like a discipline problem and a jerk of a kid who is “old enough to know better” than ruin his family’s picture.

The middle years look a lot like not knowing where the heck to shop. Like, you put on the latest trends at Forever 21 that just a few years seemed on-point for your life stage and now, the clothes actually laugh at you. You can hear it with your own ears. But then when you stroll down the mall to Chicos and try on some comfortable pants you see your mom staring back at you in the mirror and you run out in horror. Because you don’t need polyester stretch pants just yet. But other than yoga pants, what is there really?

Is it too much to ask for some nice on-trend clothes for the middle years that don’t look like a grandma’s “sharp Sunday outfit” but also cover up a muffin top? Just curious.

The middle years look a lot like floundering around for a purpose. Your kids are older. They don’t need you. And a lot of times they don’t even want you. You spent years pouring into them. Now they’re halfway out the door to adulthood. So what the heck do you do?

Hopping back into the career world after an extended childcare absence is terrifying and intimidating, and in many cases, near impossible because someone has to be around to drive those kids to their 3,578 after school activities and Uber isn’t looking so safe these days. So even a lot of long-term career middle years are reexamining their lives, wondering how on earth they are going to balance it–because make no mistake there is A LOT of it to balance. And I see a lot of them leaning out.

But being a middle years mom doesn’t mean you care any less about pursuing your dreams or finding your purpose, so you see so many women in this age bracket, highly talented and with so much to contribute to the world, stringing together purposes and trying on new dreams. MLM and Direct Selling companies are brilliant for capitalizing on this–creating flexible and forgiving ways for a mom to contribute and feel a purpose that doesn’t require the 9-7 we simply cannot give. Corporate America would be smart to follow suit. 

These are the middle years, trying to find yourself in-between carpool duties.

The middle years look like a lot less FB likes for the pictures of your adorable little cherubs. Because honestly, they’re not as cute. They’re gangly and have acne. They give you attitude every time and most of the pictures you manage to grab feature an eye-roll or an undeniable sneer. A picture of a baby sleeping? Adorable. A picture of a teen boy slumbering away? Kind of creepy and super disturbing. 

The middle years are an adventure. FB doesn’t love them. They’re not Insta-worthy. But they’re an adventure nonetheless.

You might feel invisible in the middle years. You really might. You’re expected to sit in the car for 45 minutes, in the dark, waiting to pick your kids up from basketball games, but don’t you dare walk in and make eye contact. Because that is seriously, the worst, mom. The middle years feel awkward and uncomfortable at times. You’re done carrying babies so why does your body still kind of look like you’re pregnant? Thanks, estrogen, you old pal. 

The middle years are weird, y’all. I don’t mean to paint them badly, though. Because there is good, too. There is good like serious and in-depth conversations with your children about big topics. There’s learning from them and gazing in awe as they unfold into the person they’re going to become. And realizing that despite everything–the attitude, the smells, the weirdness–they’re going to be a pretty cool and functioning adult. There is pride in their accomplishments and the oddly counterintuitive satisfaction you feel when they turn to you first when they fail. You’ve got more time from 8-3 now that the kids are getting educated and you can, in fact, actually go to the bathroom by yourself. The middle years aren’t all bad. I promise.

They’re just new.  And kind of like trying on new purposes and new dreams and trying to fit into the same jeans you wore three years ago, they can be uncomfortable at times. But that’s ok.

Here’s to you moms of the middle years. I’m holding up my cup of coffee and glass of wine (cause that’s all we drink, right) in salute. You are NOT invisible. I see you. I’m with you. You’re a warrior and a champion. You’ve got enough knowledge and confidence under your belt now. You can do anything. You can finally, and I mean, finally BE YOU.

And if you share it on FB, I promise I’ll like it. No matter how awkward it is. 

Orange Basil Butter Cookies

Remember that muffin top? Yeah, well mine comes from adventures like these cookies. Because I’m a glutton for punishment I volunteered at not one, but two, PTA cookie exchanges this year. And that meant I needed to drop off 9 dozen cookies for the teachers to share. NINE DOZEN. And of course, I can’t be normal and drop in some store-bought yummies and call it a day. I have to get all MEAGHAN on it and go crazy. So I included my famous Chocolate Chip Cookies and Forgotten Cookies. But then I did what I always do when I do commit to something I, in no way, have time to execute. I get crazy and create a recipe. And a mess.

So two full batches later I had this delicious Orange Basil Butter Cookie in hand. I morphed this from a recipe my dear mom sent me that just didn’t have enough freshness in it. I knew I could make it better, so I did. Sure, my kids might not have enough gifts under the tree, but at least I got the cookie right. Because we all know what matters most in life.

No, seriously, these Orange Basil Cookies are delicious. They’re fresh and light and buttery. The process to get the pretty design was fun too. Search your house for a glass with a pretty bottom and use that as your press. Simply roll the dough into 1 inch balls, press flat with a smooth surface (I used a measuring cup) and then press with the fancy glass. Viola.

Y’all, enjoy these orange basil cookies. Leave them for Santa. Eat them all by yourself with your midnight glass of wine while you wait for your teen to come home from a date. Just enjoy them. You deserve it.

Peace love and the middle years,

Meg

Orange Basil Butter Cookies

June 5, 2020

Servings: makes 48 cookies

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By: Meaghan Dawson

Ingredients

• 1 cup unsalted butter, softened
• 1/2 cup sugar
• BIG pinch of salt
• 1 egg
• 1 tablespoon honey (if you have orange blossom honey, even better)
• 3 teaspoons finely grated orange zest
• 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh basil
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 2 teaspoon Cointreau (or other orange-flavored liquor)
• 2 Tablespoon fresh squeezed orange juice
• 3 1/4 cups flour
• sugar for rolling

Directions

• Step 1 Preheat oven to 375
• Step 2 Beat butter in a large mixing bowl with an electric mixer until smooth.
• Step 3 Add sugar and beat until fluffy and combined.
• Step 4 Add egg, honey, basil, orange peel, vanilla, juice and liquor. Mix until combined. (mixture will be runny)
• Step 5 Add in flour and salt. Beat until combined (might need hand mixing if it gets too thick)
• Step 6 Cover tightly with saran wrap and refrigerate for an hour.
• Step 7 Once the dough is firm but not too hard to work with, separate into 1 inch balls and roll gently in sugar.
• Step 8 Using a flat surface, press each ball into a circle, approximately 1/2 inch thick.
• Step 9 If a design is desired, use either a cookie press or the bottom of a pretty glass and press again, until 1/4 inch thick.
• Step 10 Place 1/2 inch apart on parchment-lined cookie sheets.
• Step 11 Bake 8-10 minutes or until edges are lightly browned.
• Step 12 Cool a few minutes before removing to wire racks to cool completely.

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