I saw so many posts on Friday about lowering your expectations for Mother’s Day weekend. On the one hand, I understood the sentiment — as women, we sometimes build up how an experience should go and when it isn’t perfect, we start to pick apart the day and our people and the gifts and it doesn’t end well for anyone. On the other hand, it’s hard not to have high expectations for a day that celebrates the core of who we [some of us] are. Our family had a very simple weekend, but it was exactly what I had hoped for, and reminded me why it is I love this mothering gig in the first place.
Sophie had a friend over on Friday night and while they were upstairs playing, I got a call from my Grandmother. My Granmom is a spectacular woman — I’ll have to tell you about the time she turned me loose in London, at the age of fourteen, and my mother declared I could never travel alone with her again. She’s one of the most adventurous women I know and, at age 80, she’s headed on a ten day trip to Israel on Thursday. This is not her first visit. She was calling to say that her strawberry patch was overflowing and that while my Pop claimed to have picked them all, there were gallons left on the vine. I took my three girls and Sophie’s friend over to their home on Saturday morning and we spent an hour with my grandfather, digging in their garden.
How adorable is he? He’s everyone’s Pop — I don’t know a child in our small town who doesn’t call him that. He owned a gas station when I was in high school and we all played pool in the back room after school. He eats breakfast at Jack’s, every morning, with all of the other retired gentleman around. He raises cows and grows hay because he wants to and hands out crisp dollar bills (sometimes twenties!) every time we see him. He was happy to help us destroy their front yard, in the interest of fresh berries.
I tried to feel Polly a few, because they are small and squishy and she loves berries, but homegrown strawberries are more tart than sweet and she promptly spit them out!
We ended up with more than a gallon of strawberries for our efforts and have been munching them all weekend long.
Our cow delivered a calf a few weeks ago and we haven’t had a chance to see him yet, so the girls convinced Pop to call the cows. He has this perfect way of saying woo-baby that brings them thundering through the trees and ready to eat out of his hands. They were a little disappointed that food wasn’t involved and the mama cow kept her calf as far away from us as possible. He’s tiny and bright white and we’re still working on a name.
Shadow was the first to arrive and got plenty of head pats from the girls. It was hard to get a picture of Polly and the horse, but you should know that Shadow was very interested in her. Every time I moved down the fence line to grab a picture, she followed me and looked Polly right in the face. It was so sweet!
You can see our calf laying in the grass, on the far right side of the photo below. His mama never let him out of her sight!
I should have taken more photos from the weekend, but I was too busy enjoying my people. I took the biggest girls out for a Sonic Blast (so much better than a DQ Blizzard!), pedicures, and a quick turn around our local antique mall. They gifted me with the most amazing weighted blanket that I wanted to sit under all weekend long (my exact blanket is here, but they sell a less expensive version on Amazon). We had too much takeout — biscuits for breakfast, Mexican food, and Zaxby’s for dinner — because, why not? We didn’t have anywhere to be and no obligations for the entire weekend, so we were able to say yes to say many requests that we often ignore. It was a beautiful weekend filled with all of the right things and the people I love most in the world.
See more of our farm favorites here: strawberry picking | “moo tow” | meet marley
