Buttercream in my Hair.
It’s Sunday afternoon and there’s smudges of buttercream in my hair.
Let me explain…
I loved to grocery shop with my mom when I was a kid. I would pace excitedly up and down the cereal aisle contemplating a box of Cheerios or LIFE, Lucky Charms or Crunch Berries. And plead with my mother to buy Chocolate Pop Tarts “just this one time.”
But f I behaved, she’d let me pick out one special snack to take in my lunchbox that week for school. I took this very seriously.
My favorite snack to pick out were Little Debbie’s “oatmeal cream pies” and “star crunch” cookies. I liked oatmeal cream pies best, though.
This helps to explain the buttercream in my hair.
In bed this morning I thought about those Little Debbie treats (totally normal thing to think about in bed while drinking coffee). I remembered the joy I felt as I unwrapped the soft pie from the plastic, two chewy oatmeal cookies frosted together with a sweet cream filling. It has been years since I’ve had one.
And that’s just not right.
So I got up, washed my face, and in the spirit of my favorite throwback lunchbox snack, I thought… today would be a good day for an oatmeal cream pie.
I found a recipe for something similar (and better) online and before I had a second to question it, I found myself hovered over this…
After combining the dry ingredients with the wet I stirred furiously for ten minutes and had my batter.
And into the oven my Little Debbie dreams went…
As the cookies baked, I promptly went to my pantry for the 3 cups of powdered sugar I needed for the buttercream filling. But someone forgot to check to see if she had any to start.
My powdered sugar bag was empty.
Maybe I take food too seriously or maybe it’s hormones, but when I realized I didn’t have the main ingredient for the buttercream, I wanted to go put on Celine Dion and cry in my bedroom.
could be is a mild exaggeration.
Instead, I took a long look at Copper the dog and knew if I wanted my cream pies, I needed to go the store.
Copper the dog has a way of helping me come to my senses.
I picked up a five dollar bag of powdered sugar at the first store I stopped in. It was all they had. And I was too lazy to drive across the street to Wal-Mart where I I could have snagged a bag for a buck. There isn’t much I won’t do to avoid Wal Mart.
I finished up the recipe and well…by the end of it there was buttercream in my hair and two warm home made oatmeal cream pies in my belly.
Hey, it was Sunday. Oatmeal cream pies pair well with the whole “day of rest” idea, me thinks.
As a big girl grown-up now I can go to the grocery store any time and buy whatever I want. I dreamed of this day as a little girl. I imagined when I was “all grown up” I would buy Little Debbies and Fruity Pebbles all the time just because. That’s hardly true. Truth is, I pass by the various junk food emblems of my childhood all the time when I shop… fruit gushers, toaster strudels, teddy grahams, snack pack pudding. I never think to buy them because I don’t carry a lunchbox anymore and all of that sugar would turn me into this…
That would be Madame Mim from The Sword in the Stone AKA: me when I’ve had too much sugar.
But I can appreciate it for its’ nostaglic value. When I pass by strawberry toaster strudels in the frozen foods aisle at the store, I feel warm with the memory of slow, 7 a.m. strolls to the bus stop in junior high, with my best friend and a hot strudel in my hand. But there’s a special place in my heart for my dear oatmeal creme pies.
And although my home baked version doesn’t come in a box with Little Debbie’s curly hair and smile on the packaging, they’re still as delicious as I remember when I carried them in a lunchbox to school.
And that’s something totally worth a five dollar bag of powdered sugar and buttercream frosting in my hair.
March 8, 2011