Another Weekend at Granny's

 Last weekend the kids and I went to West Liberty to spend a few nights with Granny. Every time we go Hayden will ask Granny if she can plant some flowers. So earlier in the week my mom bought some mums for Hayden and Granny to plant together.  Deacon not wanting to be left out wanted to help too...well, kind of.

Granny's house

Below the kids are patiently waiting for Granny to get the mums and tools from the shed.  I tried to get a "nice" picture of them while waiting.  Hayden is always willing. Deacon...*sigh.*

Pestering big sister is what we do best.

Granny dug out some holes in her flower bed and then let the kids water the soil. This was their favorite part, but not mine.  It resulted in several fights over the water hose.

 Granny then showed them how to transfer the flowers to the flower bed.

At this point Deacon was still interested.

Deacon became bored quickly after the water hose was shut off.  After hearing Hayden exclaim, "Eew Deacon, those are dirty," I turned around to find him like this.

Deacon being Deacon

It took Hayden some time to be okay with the dirt.  At home while playing in the dirt she is always wearing her gardening gloves. She wasn't crazy about getting her hands so dirty.  I realized quickly that I have been raising a city girl; we are going to have to work in some country behavior.

By the second or third set of mums she was a pro. The dirty hands were no longer an issue.

Once the flowers were all planted into the bed and the water hose came back on, Deacon showed up.

Later on Granny found some more flowers for Hayden to plant, and it made her day.

Deacon had a great time with the discarded pots.  They were perfect for throwing in the air and wearing on his head.

Lemonade Pants

It was one of those days. I was at the campground helping Kerry with an event when my wild and rambunctious 3 year old son jumped, jumped, jumped and then bumped, bumped, bumped his very full cup of lemonade into my lap.  My entire lap was soaked with lemonade.  Now, spilling things on your clothes is never comfortable, but the feeling of soaked jeans--soaked sticky jeans--is super unpleasant.  I was angry.  Deacon immediately looked up at me with his big brown eyes and very softly said, "I sorry mama."  I didn't care, I was annoyed. Yes, I know I sound really mean.  It's okay to judge me...I would.

I grabbed Deacon by the hand and said, "Let's go, mama has to go home and change clothes since you spilled lemonade in my lap."  I know, sweet, patient, merciful mother of the year here.

I harshly explained to my husband that I would be back after I went home and changed.  I loaded my son in the car and home we headed.  All the way home I was still annoyed, stewing in my lemonade pity party pants.

I got home, changed clothes, and then realized the shorts I picked out to wear didn't go with the shoes I was originally wearing.  Now, I would have to paint my toe-nails really quick because my toes looked awful and un-manicured.  I just knew everyone would be staring at my feet.  "Awesome...just one more thing to add to this day," I thought.  Yes, I can be this self-absorbed...I'm not proud of it.

I quickly painted my toes, slipped on my flip-flops, and headed out the door.  I got into the car where my precious son was waiting...patiently and happily watching his movie.  As we took off down the road Deacon started up conversation.

"Mama, I want a Cars bike for Christmas."

"Oh yeah, I thought you wanted a Toy Story bike?"

"Mama, I-I-I want a Toy Story bike, Toy Story, yesth (yes) Toy Story."

"Okay, we'll ask Santa for a Toy Story bike."

"Mama, I get you a present."

"What are you going to get me?"

Long pause.  "I get you a tape measure...a big one!"

"Oh Deacon, I would love that."

My stupid anger over him spilling lemonade on my pants seemed so stupid and wrong in this moment.  I almost cried; I felt so horrible.  This precious child didn't mean to spill his lemonade all over me.  I am, of all people, incredibly clumsy which should have resulted in me extending him mercy and grace over the incident.  Instead I was mad and rash with him because it inconvenienced me and caused me a temporary discomfort.  Lord, forgive me and help him forget my hatefulness.

"Deacon, what about Daddy?"

"I get Daddy a scooter."

"What about sissy?"

"Um...I get her a doll."

"I tell Santa when he comes to the fish store." (Bass Pro)

With that last line my heart broke.  I felt like a selfish baby.  I knew I owed my three-old son an apology.

"Deacon...Mama is sorry for getting mad and being ugly to you earlier.  You are a good boy, and I love you."

He smiled and went on with his Christmas list--not for himself mind you, but what he wanted to get others.  I sat and soaked up the rest of his words the entire ride.  I asked God to forgive me and help me cherish each moment with my kids and stop fretting over things that do not matter.

Accidental Pumpkin Patch

Kerry, Hayden, nor I have any idea when she actually planted the seeds.  We came home from a weekend get-a-way several weeks ago and noticed a really long vine with blossoms growing in front of our porch.  Hayden became very excited.  "I planted cucumber seeds Bear (her grandpa) gave me and they are growing!"  So we all assumed we had a cucumber plant growing.  (For those of you laughing because you know what a cucumber vs pumpkin plant looks like, you can keep laughing.  We know nothing about gardening in this house.)

A few weeks later we were surprised to see little green vegetables growing off the vine...except they weren't cucumbers.  They were little bitty pumpkins!  

What's crazy is for the last two years Hayden has begged us to plant pumpkin seeds so she could have her very own pumpkin patch.  Each year we say "we'll do it this year."  Yet, year after year we forget and the time to plant comes and passes and we always say "we'll remember next year."

So this year Hayden, although by accident, planted her own pumpkin seeds and has a crop of 4 pumpkins.  We would probably have several others, but the deer keep eating the blossoms at night. 

I'm so proud of her.  She loves gardens, flowers, and plants.  I'm hoping the very green thumb my Granny has (that I certainly do not have)  is re-appearing in my lovely daughter.

My proud little farmer.