I Don't Really Know How To Make Jam

So, I get a call at 8:00 am yesterday morning. I didn't answer because I was busy doing nothing on the couch and couldn't find my phone in visual distance. Finally, curiosity gets the best of me and I get off my butt to hunt for my phone.

I finally find it and resume my spot on the couch. When I checked my voicemail I realize it was my mother in law calling to see if we wanted to go strawberry picking. I set down my phone and thought, "Heck yeah! I want to do me some berry pickin"! The hubs and I have done berry picking before and I loved it. Except we were berry picking for wine, not for pies and jam and crap.

When I called her back to say that me and the kiddos were on board with the strawberry picking, I asked her what time she was thinking. She said that the morning would work out the best due to bugs, sun, etc. All that crud I wasn't really thinking about. I glance down at my tweety bird pajamas and half drank coffee and somewhat feel like a failure. I fess up that it may take us a while to meet up with her because we are all still in our pjs. Don't judge me...it was my day off. 


The kiddos are downstairs grinding play doh into every nook and cranny. I bribe them with a promise of doing something really fun if they go mach speed at getting dressed, teeth brushed, and getting in the car. Surprisingly they comply...working on the notion that they would be handsomely rewarded. Yeah, we don't get out of our pjs on days off until at least 10 am unless there is a darn good reason. They were intrigued. 


We make it over to MIL's house and all pile into her car to head out to the strawberry patch. When we get there we are instructed to talk to a man standing in the middle of the patch. The "strawberry keeper" if you will...


He gives us specific instructions on how we are allowed to pick. This involves rows and flags and half this row half that row. I stand there slightly confused. MIL and Little Dude head off down their row. I am still confused because I suck at following directions and paying attention. I ask the "strawberry keeper" to repeat his instructions. I gather that I am allowed to stick to a particular row and to go as far as I can and then put the flag that is at the beginning in the row in the spot where I end up. Okay I got it now. Sheesh, this is technical. For some reason when I thought of strawberry picking, I pictured frolicking carelessly through a strawberry patch. Tasting and giggling were also a part of that delusion.  This seemed like a lot of rules for a berry pickin' outing.

We start picking berries and I realize Sassy Girl is quickly filling up her bucket. The competitive side in me is flaring up and I look in her bucket and realize she is also picking mushy berries. I show her which berries to pick and feel better about my slim pickings. I am being very choosy.


As we go further down our row, I see some perfect strawberries. Except they are in the row next to me. After I pick them, I look around to see if the "strawberry keeper" caught me breaking the rules. I kind of felt guilty. I had specific rules given to me twice...and I broke them. 


While picking, we ran into someone that I knew. She remarked how many strawberries we had picked. I made some comment about jam. In fact, I had been commenting about jam all day. I have no idea how to make jam. I have never made jam in my life. But, it felt right that someone at a strawberry patch should be an expert at making jam. So...I exaggerated my knowledge of what to do with all these fricken berries. 


After we had picked four buckets worth we packed up, and paid for our berries. I opt to take one bucket home and MIL takes the rest. For someone that was so stoked to go strawberry picking, I should have taken into account that I am the ONLY one in my family that likes strawberries. 


My kids will eat strawberries. But in a ratio of one strawberry to 1/4 cup of cool whip. And even then they may just eat around the strawberry. 


MIL gives me tips on how to freeze the berries. Since I will not be making jam, I will heed the advice to freeze these puppies up. 


As I lay my strawberries out flat, I feel a sense of pride. Awww yeah...I picked these. Way better than going to the grocery store. 


Someday I will actually learn how to make jam. I'm sure I could Google it if I really wanted to put the effort into it. 



It will be something I learn to do on my day off. In my pajamas. 




Until then, I will just pretend I fit the role of jam makin', berry pickin', jack of all trades mom... 





PS: What the heck Blogger? Why are you highlighting half my post in white? If anyone has any ideas please let me know!