I love blueberries! I'm glad that's out in the open now. I can't even tell you how excited I get come mid-June when the berries are finally ripe. Those little berries are just like m&m's except for their healthy!
We found a hidden treasure out in East Texas that will become our new Mecca. These blueberries are extra sweet because they're spring fed. Life just doesn't get much better.
Of course, this wouldn't be a Mallott adventure unless there was a story to tell. First of all, I don't know if this is just me and my little people or if this is a common thing to happen to all moms, but, if I happen to step 6 inches to the left, so do all my people. If I back-up to double check something, so do all my people. They are on me like a heat-seeking missile. Seriously, the whole time we're on a 500 acre farm, my children are no farther than 3 steps from me at all times. I kept trying to shake them but to no avail. If I tried to loose them in the bushes, they would find me in less than 5 seconds.
So, that's how it turned out the whole morning, Chuck, Mr. Meticulous Detail Man combing each bush and picking every last ripe blueberry off each one and me and my brood of puppy dogs, obediently following my every step, way far down the row from Daddy. My method of hunting blueberries is, grab the ones I see that look good and move on to the next bush leaving some for the person who's unlucky enough to find this bush after me. I don't like leaving people out. Plus, I was secretly trying to put some space between me and the kiddos. Didn't work.
Gavin's method is to complain loud and long about the heat and massive amounts of exertion this activity is causing him. He ate one out of every two berries he picked. He tried drinking the water out of the irrigation line feeding the blueberry bushes. There was also your random, over-the-top scream every time he stuck his hand into a bush that had a spider web in there.
Bennett thought this to be a great forum for trying out all his latest jokes on us. He stayed on me like glue. I had to actually tell him not to lean on me. He picked anything at eye level whether or not it was ripe.Chloe chose this special time to forage blueberries off the ground and other low places. As long as she was close to me or in control of the video camera, she was thrilled.
These are the most accurate pictures of their interest level in the art of blueberry picking.
And last but not least...we realized we'd been hood-winked. A lady there told us not to go down any rows that had a blue marking on them. We were only allowed to pick from white or gray rows. Well...we found out why. We stumbled, accidently of course, onto this most wonderful bush. It was overflowing with massive, ripe, gorgeous, plump blueberries. We had just found THE BUSH of all bushes. We picked till our heart's content. I think most of our berries were from this one bush. On our way back to the car, we looked back down the row we came from and lo and behold, it was a blue one!! We were picking on a forbidden row on a forbidden bush. I'm glad we got out of there before the blueberry police were on to us!
We were driving along the highway today. The kids love to read all the billboards aloud. It is a lovely background noise to have being the driver and trying to navigate your way through the perilous highways. I was trying to tune them out...which is actually rather hard for me. But then Bennett reads this one sign and I can't help but laugh out loud.
Sign: Your Wife Is Hot (maybe you should get your a/c fixed)
Then he felt the need to comment, "Well I don't know about my wife, but my mom sure is hot." HA!!!
Then he proceeded to tell me a story about something that happened at school and how one of his friends called a teacher hot and he told me that it's just a synonym of 'pretty'. I'm glad he cleared things up for me.
So...the kids are at the pool this afternoon swimming it up, having a blast. But then the inevitable happens, they run out of ideas of what to play. They know that if they complain to me, swim time is over. I can see them over in the corner of the pool brainstorming game ideas that would include all three of them. That's the greatest challenge - something that all three would enjoy. Suddenly, Chloe announces, "I've got it, boys! Let's play Bad Kid, Mommy and Daddy!" Bennett yells at the top of his lungs to claim the most coveted role, "I'll be the bad kid!" There are plenty of others around. They don't yet understand nor appreciate my children's knack for loud, narrative, play. When my kids play 'Bad Kid, Mommy and Daddy' they always do outlandish things (unfortunately, no, this is not the first time this game has been played), this tends to be how they act out things they'd never get away with in real life...evidently it's therapeutic for them.
So there are my 3, precious, offspring flouncing around gaily in the pool. Their volume is on MAXIMUM. This is their preferred level of speech when Mommy is only semi-close by because then Mommy will get the chance to hear everything they are saying and they wouldn't want me to miss out on all the fun. They are so considerate of me and my needs. Obviously the book I brought was no where near as entertaining as watching them play 'Bad Kid, Mommy and Daddy'.
To jump start this game, Bennett yells, "HEY GUYS, I'LL BE CHAINED TO MY BED WHILE YOU GUYS GO OUT TO A RESTAURANT!!!" as he's entwining himself amongst the railing on the pool steps. "OH YA - AND I'M ONLY 5!"
There are many, man
y things going thru my mind at this point. I'd like to think that maybe I'm just hallucinating from the hot, hot sun, but alas, my children are right there, ever before me with all the loudness they can muster. Then I start wondering how many other pool patrons heard Bennett - probably all of them since he was screaming. What must they think of my mothering skills? Do they think that this child got this idea in his head from personal experience? Where would a kid come up with such a ridiculous idea? Should I laugh loud enough for the others to hear me or should I play stunned, like I can't imagine my son would even suggest such a hideous idea? Such a quandary.
In the end, I did what I always do...laughed to myself, made a mental note to remember it so I could blog about it and then went on sunbathing like we are a perfectly normal family.
Today at lunch, I was explaining to the kids how Jadziu (their great-grandpa) was not doing so well. We were also looking at very old pictures of when their Grandpa (my dad) was a little boy and Jadziu was much younger. We were talking about how sad Grandpa must be watching his daddy stop acting like himself (because of dementia). We decided this was something we definitely needed to be praying about. Each of the children were so concerned, you could see it all over their faces. But Bennett's heart was melting, I could tell. He has so much compassion bottled up inside him.
He mulled over our lunch discussion all afternoon. Once dinner time rolled around, he asked me if he could call Grandpa. I told him, "Sure". I heard him in the other room making small talk with Grandpa, but not telling him what was on his mind and heart. Then I heard him talk to Grandma, he tells her what he can't bear to tell Grandpa, "Grandma, please tell Grandpa that I'm sorry that his dad is not doing good." I could hear his shaky voice, see his eyes well up with tears and see the compassion in his face. He would have cried if he had to say it to Grandpa himself. He hates to see other people hurting. He took on the hurt himself.
I recently read a wonderful definition of compassion: to hurt with someone.
We all love Jadziu and hate to watch him and Bapchie walk this sad, lonely, unknown road that is the end of their lives. But having people who love you around to hurt with you helps lighten the burden of everyone.
I walked into the gameroom where the white board is located and found this. I have no idea when Bennett did it. But evidently he needed to get some things off his chest. I'm so thankful how communicative he is.
As we're getting ready for the day, Chloe comes into my bathroom and asks me what the weather is going to be. It's summer. It's Texas. It's going to be hot. It doesn't really matter what the actual temperature will be - hot just about covers all of them.
Since meteorologist is one of the many hats I wear in this job, I informed her of the temperature highs and lows for the day, the chance of rainfall and the level of humidity. I decided to leave barometric pressure changes out of my monologue since it really doesn't affect one's clothing choice for the day.
She sits there staring up at me hugging herself, with dreamy eyes she laments, "Oh Mommy, I was longing to wear something warm and cozy today."
Hello Jane Austen, what did you do with my Chloe?
The girl speaks as though she's jumped out of Little Women or Sense and Sensibility.
What six year old longs to do anything?
Her vocabulary at this age is astounding and she loves using it on me. Not that "longs" is a big, hard word, but the context and manner of her speech placed it in just the right place at the right time.
Oh my, I'm growing me a little idealist. Welcome to the club my darling. My name is Mommy and I've been longing for you to join me.
This morning I was trying to carry on a conversation with Chloe and Bennett while also trying to read something on the computer. This is not something one should try multitasking with.
Chloe asked me a question and I didn't totally hear her (of course), so I responded with, "What Punk?"
It only took me 2 minutes to realize what I said. Then I had to backtrack to try to explain my name calling. I always call her Punkin. Obviously, in my distracted state, I felt shortening this to "Punk" was appropriate. Not. Do not call you children Punk. It does not sit well with them.
Then I'm stammering all over myself trying to fix my distracted error and I start calling her my "Sweet Punk". Bennett sees only hilarity in this whole, disheveled event. I on the other hand am walking around with my imaginary tail between my legs feeling awful to trying to multitask a conversation with my children.
Step away from the computer, Mommy. Now.
From now on, any one who talks to me has my undivided attention. However, if I ever slip up and call you "Punk", please don't take it personally, I was just falling back into the error of my ways and trying to be too efficient with my time.
Here's a peak into Bennett's brain:
Yesterday, he and I were laying in the hammock visiting about our day, solving the world's problems and just enjoying the weather. Then he makes an announcement. He felt the need to stand and present this, "Mom, you know, you and Grandma are alot alike."
"Oh really? How do think so, Sweetie?"
"Well...you both smell good and you both like to spend time with me."
Oh the ties that bind.
And then there was today. I'm thinking he's secretly taking lessons in flattery.
We were on our way somewhere and were probably going to be a little early. I informed the kids of this and told them we might have to wait a little while for our friends. This did not phase Bennett in the least. He eagerly presents his solution, "Oh that's no problem, Mom. We can just sit and admire your beauty while we wait."
The problem was, he wasn't being the least bit sarcastic. He was totally genuine. I guess there could be worse problems we could have to be dealing with.
This does not count the multiple times a day I get custom white board messages prounouncing his love for me or telling me 'U Rock Mommy' or exclaiming his undying affection for me. I love being the center of his little love struck heart. I know one day it will change...but right now is perfect just the way it is...flattery and all. (Trust me, the pictures he draws of me are in no way flattering).
Of course, this wouldn't be a Mallott adventure unless there was a story to tell. First of all, I don't know if this is just me and my little people or if this is a common thing to happen to all moms, but, if I happen to step 6 inches to the left, so do all my people. If I back-up to double check something, so do all my people. They are on me like a heat-seeking missile. Seriously, the whole time we're on a 500 acre farm, my children are no farther than 3 steps from me at all times. I kept trying to shake them but to no avail. If I tried to loose them in the bushes, they would find me in less than 5 seconds.
So, that's how it turned out the whole morning, Chuck, Mr. Meticulous Detail Man combing each bush and picking every last ripe blueberry off each one and me and my brood of puppy dogs, obediently following my every step, way far down the row from Daddy. My method of hunting blueberries is, grab the ones I see that look good and move on to the next bush leaving some for the person who's unlucky enough to find this bush after me. I don't like leaving people out. Plus, I was secretly trying to put some space between me and the kiddos. Didn't work.
Gavin's method is to complain loud and long about the heat and massive amounts of exertion this activity is causing him. He ate one out of every two berries he picked. He tried drinking the water out of the irrigation line feeding the blueberry bushes. There was also your random, over-the-top scream every time he stuck his hand into a bush that had a spider web in there.
