Monday musings

Feel a bit out of joint in this joint.  When you have MYP running through the house, it is hard to be inspired to sit down and pen some beautiful prose.  Or musings.  But I must.

We were just at the strawberry fields.  I took only one of the MYP because it sometimes goes better that way. That and the simple fact that one was out of the country and the other was deep in slumber enjoying utter laziness of no schedule.  Mothers march their children to the fields with purpose.  The wagon ride is fun!  The anticipation is fun!  The berries are red!  You can eat as you go!  And then about 4 1/2 minutes later, you hear lots and lots and lots of complaining from the small fry.  "I'm hot.  I'm thirsty.  How long will we be here?  These are mushy!  I don't have many on my plants.  I'm still hot.  Can we go now?  NOW?  My spine even hurts.  A bug bit my ankle.  The hay is scratchy."  Seriously.  I heard every one of those.  And a few were from the darling I took along.

Then there was Mrs. Sixtysomething.  And "Dad" the old guy she brought along that had a literal folding chair.  She was a cantankerous sort.  There weren't enough berries.  Someone didn't move the flags like they should have.  The berries were brighter on someone else's row.  And every 27 seconds she would say "Dad, ARE YOU DOING ALRIGHT?" really loud because apparently "Dad" doesn't hear very well.  They picked about 49 berries in approximately 20 minutes and then they left.  I went back to their row and saw lots and lots and lots of berries that she left behind.  I think I learned a lesson.

Son #1 has packed his bags and left.  He even crossed the border with the Chicken Farmers and will be gone all week.  I feel a bit fluttery in my stomach that he's gone so long.  And so far away.  They left direct from a baseball game where he hit 3 for 3.  There was a huge smile as he leaped up and crammed himself in his place in the pickup and headed out for an 11-hour journey.  I'm thankful that I hugged him before we even left for the baseball game.  And I'm thankful he still likes that.

A few things I heard today:  "Why isn't T. gone longer than a week?  It seems too short!"  Let brotherly love continue...

"You look like a chipmunk with nuts in your cheeks when you smile like that."

"Mom, you know your breath always smells like tomato juice."  I apologized.  Then she said, "but I like it because it is just how you smell."  Like sour tomato juice.  I think some moms probably smell better.  Like flowers or something.

And I'm desperately trying hard to resist writing about the kitten we have named Simba.  So I won't.  But I can't help but post this picture of cuteness of the slumber party daughter #2 had with him the other night on the screen porch.  Yeah, we're treating him like a barn cat.

Mused out...