“I’m sorry, Officer. I wasn’t trying to speed. Not maliciously anyway. You see, I have one hundred and fifty-four homemade ice pops in my trunk and no cooler…”

That was the speech I practiced in my head Friday morning as I drove a wee bit too fast down Interstate 70 in route to my kids’ school. In fact, I got so good at the words, I started adding motions–a slight cock of the head, a slow batting of the eyelashes, and an oh-so-sweet request for a police escort for the remainder of my drive.

Fortunately for me—and the one hundred fifty-four ice pops—we made it to school unnoticed and intact with not a single solitary Missouri State Trooper the wiser.

Phew.

And I mean, phewwwww.

Anyway, there are lots of things you’re unprepared for as a parent…

*The first time you realize you’re on your own with the infant in your arms and there’s not a nurse-call button anywhere.

*The first projectile vomit that makes you wonder if your child is possessed.

*The first skinned knee that seems to bleed forever.

*The way your heart swells with the first hug, the first kiss, the first “thank you.”

The list of unexpected surprises a parent experiences is endless. And just about the time you think you’ve got it figured out, they enter a new stage and the rules change. Yet somehow, someway, you figure it out.

Or at least that’s what I thought. Until last week.

That’s when my youngest came home from school and told me she’d pulled “food” out as her booth for the Mexican Marketplace her grade was hosting (gotta love the old hat pull). As my mind was trying to focus on her words while cooking dinner, unloading the dishwasher, and flipping through the mail, she continued.

“I told Mrs. Blank we’d make ice-pops.”

Ice pops? Hmmmm. Okay. Sounded easy enough. She’d even managed to commandeer seven ice-cube trays from one of the other teachers to make the process easier (we have an ice-maker and therefore no trays—smart kid)…

“We need about one hundred and fifty.”

A hundred and fifty? *Cough.* Um, okay.

Three nights before the event, I lined up the seven trays (fourteen cubes each) on the counter and poured apple juice into a measuring cup so my daughter could fill the holes. As she completed each tray, I placed it in the freezer with plans to pop sticks in the cubes as they began to solidify.

Easy, right?

I won’t answer that.

I will, however, tell you that three hours later I was still trying to get sticks to stand upright in the trays—my mouth beginning to expel words I didn’t know I knew. Thirty minutes after that, I’d yelled at the sticks enough I simply shut the door and gave up. If the damn cubes fell off the sticks when the kids tried to eat them…tough. Tough!!

When I finally dragged myself into bed that night, I was still grumbling under my breath about school projects, not enough time in the day, and how much I hated ice pops. Surprisingly though, they looked okay the next morning despite their cockeyed handles. Wonders never cease.

Now, for those math geniuses out there who are keeping track, I still had four more trays to make. So I lined up the trays, pulled out the lemonade (for a flavorful variety, of course) and started the process all over again .

Lo and behold, the handles went in a bit easier this go-round thanks to the faster freezing time of lemonade versus apple juice. Who knew?!?!? However, finding room in the freezer was quite the juggling act as I crammed waffles and meat into places that probably weren’t true parts of the freezer.

*Deep breath*

Before I knew it, it was Friday (TG!). Time to get the ice pops from my freezer to the school…

Without the assistance of a cooler.

On the first sunny day St. Louis has seen in weeks.

And not a hidden camera anywhere.

Though, it got me thinking about how fast you’d have to drive if you had–I don’t know–say, a thawing body in your trunk…

And whether my batting eyelashes would have worked on a cop.

Hmmmm…

Hugs,

~Laura