Jam-Making Fool

It seems when I state "the rules according to mama" to Heath and Stella they automatically feel some sense of flexibility in them, and not because I am necessarily a lenient, permissive parent, they just frequently don't seem to care what I have to say in some instances. So, I've learned a bit of a trick. They're not my rules, they are someone else's guidelines.

Today we headed out bright and early to Hall Family Farm to do a little strawberry picking. (Last week's preliminary/trial jar of strawberry jam making went so well, I thought I could handle lugging the children to a patch to pick pounds upon pounds, then lug the kiddies back home for a late-morning of jam-making.) I'm no fool. I know who I am dealing with when it comes to my kids. I am definitely going at my own risk, but I figured I could at least pin down the usual suspects when it comes to egregious "mis"behavior.

So after strapping them both down in their car seats, I took a long sip of my coffee, a deep breath, then turned around in the front seat of the car to face the the small, but freakishly large in mischief-making possibilities, crew.

The gist of what I told them (with a cheery voice and smile!) was:

So we're off to Hall Family Farm to pick some strawberries. The Halls have some rules that we have to follow while we are there (I'm pretty sure this is where Heath sort of smirked). One (I counted the rules with my fingers, Stella mimicking right along.), if you have to go to the potty, we go to THE potty. (I'm pretty sure this is where Heath frowned.) We can't pee-pee in the strawberry patches.

Two, the Hall Family wants you to stay with your mommy at all times. (I get a why? from both kids at this point.) Because you might get lost in the strawberries.

And three, the Halls do not want you to eat the berries until we have purchased the berries, so we don't eat them as we pick. We'll have containers to put them in and we'll bring them home to eat and make yummy jam and smoothies.

I felt good about my little speech, and everyone seemed, well, they seemed the way they always seem, but I felt very prepared. I turned back around in the car and headed on out to Ballentyne.

We were first to arrive, which was great. Pick of the strawberry litter. I headed to the little store/register/information/person-on-duty shack with my kids and my containers. Turns out I didn't need the containers, they had some excellent brown boxes with some handy-dandy handles. The young gal who was sitting behind the cash register, amongst the strawberry slushie machines and canned jams, told me the box could hold up to 5 pounds. I looked at the container, repeated 5 pounds in my head as I imagined what one does with more than 5 pounds, looked around me because both my kids are already missing...one box will be plenty.

Heath had already found the kid-pen (a tented box of a playpen beside the rows upon rows of strawberries), and it was loaded with trucks--dump, digger, backhoe, the list went on. He was a goner. But I gave him the old we'll come back and play after we finish picking the berries. For a minute, I thought it worked. He followed me into a row, picked a very white berry, threw it into the box, announcing, I'm finished.

Help me find some really, really red strawberries, I suggest. He picks one more. It IS red. But he's done. Off to the trucks, and I figure that's okay. He's in eye-shot, shout-shot, and I won't be there forever.

Turns out Stella wanted to be quite the strawberry-picking helper. She wanted to hold the container, while we searched out the ripe strawberries (that were unbelievably plentiful and unbelievably fragrant, I could hardly abide by my, I mean, the Halls rule #3.) Three minutes into Stella's excellent holding and following behind me assistance, she begins to, one berry at a time, crush them betwixt her little fingers, strawberry juice running down her arm, then tossing the smooshed berry back into the container. I added a fourth rule, no squishing the berries. Mashing not an option, she handed the brown box back to me, and took off for the trucks.

I picked berries. The kids played with trucks. Next thing I knew, the box was full, and the kids were eyeing the strawberry slushies. We got our berries and icees, did a quick tour of the strawberry patch maze, had a scary visit with the three of us in the Porta-Potty, played with some water-pumping, tube, push a rubber ducky to the other side of the plastic tube game. Nice little morning (all rules followed, give or take a strawberry and one run-away incident.).

Close to 4 pounds. I've already made one batch of jam. Heath has requested strawberry smoothies for breakfast. And if anyone wants to eat some berries and doesn't feel like picking, come on by!