Pie (In The Face) Day

Last week at our rural Vermont elementary school, we celebrated Pie Day. Do I mean a celebration of the number 3.14? Nope. I’m talking actual pies.

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I’m based in rural Vermont, where last week at our elementary school we celebrated Pie Day. Do I mean a celebration of the number 3.14? Nope. I’m talking actual pies.

To cap off Teacher's Appreciation Week, the school celebrates with a lovely annual tradition where parents can sign up to bake (or buy) a pie so that every employee at the public school has a pie to take home for the weekend. And that's precisely how it's written in the email: "Sign up to bake (or buy) a pie" - the parenthetical offers the appropriate level of judgment and shame to those who buy. The email also says, "No cream-based pies because there will not be refrigeration." 

I signed up with high hopes of trying a new recipe, or maybe I'd even bake two pies; one for us!!! I could make my favorite caramel apple pie, or attempt a strawberry, peach, and basil balsamic raclette!!! I was clearly having one of those deranged moments untethered to the reality of my baking ability and the number of hours in a single day.

Pie Day was on Friday. At the start of the week, I was staring down the barrel of a busy work schedule and the onslaught of kid spring activities and an early dismissal day (fuck, how did I forget to put that in our calendar!?!!), so the pie thing fell off my radar. 

It popped into my brain when I was out for a run with a friend Thursday morning. I asked her if she made one, and she said, "I bought one a week ago and put it in the freezer. I figured if I didn't have time to make one, I could thaw the frozen one – and yeah, I'll need to thaw that tonight!" Wow, what foresight and ability to be realistic with your bandwidth! I kept my delusions alive and figured, OK, post-school, and after my son's guitar lesson and my daughter's speech therapy, we can shoot to the grocery store and pick up some pre-made pie crust and a bag of apples. And then, after dinner but before bath and bed, the kids and I will make the pie together while we listen to bluegrass music and share stories from our day!! 

None of those things happened.

At 9:45 pm, as I finished packing kid lunches for the next day, my husband suggested we watch Succession. That sounded delightful, but I had to bake a pie. My husband kindly offered to pick up a pie at our local diner in the morning. A little defeated but excited to collapse on the couch, I agreed but suggested that it shouldn't be from the diner; it should come from the nice bakery. I planned to call the bakery in the morning and sank into the couch as Succession theme music began.

As the kids ate breakfast the following day, I called the bakery, and they informed me they were out, "I don’t know what happened, we had a run on pies yesterday!" the woman said enthusiastically.

ALL THE OTHER PARENTS BOUGHT ALL THE GOOD PIES. Fuck them.

My husband was doing school drop-off that morning, and as they rushed out the door, he said, "I'll grab a pie at the diner." I bow to him and say thank you. 

I rushed to clean up breakfast and get ready for a work meeting, and then my phone buzzed with a photo from my husband with the text, "Got the pie, dropping it at school now, all good!" I squinted at the picture of a chocolate cream pie covered in whipped cream.

Frantically I texted my husband, "We can't bring cream-based!!! NO FRIDGE!!!” No response. I sent him a link to an article about salmonella from spoiled cream. Five minutes passed with no text back, and I shuddered at the thought of all the hard-working school employees looking disappointed at a room-temperature melted cream pie at the end of the day and then throwing the whole thing in the garbage. I've PUNISHED an educator instead of showing gratitude!! I SUCK!!!

My husband finally texted back, "That's all that was left, and I asked the school if it was a problem, and they said not at all; several people brought in cream pies because that's all that was left this morning at the local places." 

Unseasonably cold weather on Pie Day was a gift to those of us who brought the last-minute cream pies (and the teachers that ate them).

One day I’ll learn I can’t do all the things the way I wish I could; in the meantime, I now have two (store-bought) pies in the freezer. It was three, but I ate one.

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