Mama's Choice.

So...

My Loves.  All of them.

During the seasons of fishing and hunting -- which are pretty much 12 months out of the year and which all of my boys are pretty much obsessed with doing with every fiber of their beings -- we have sort of morphed into a little routine as of late that keeps us all a happy unit.

Let's take Fishing Season for example:  If for the past few Family Days we have either fished along the banks of a stream, fished from a boat, went for a walk to fish behind our house, or drove down an abandoned road and found some random river to fish alongside....or if, hypothetically, we had a free night together as a family and we all loaded into my Grampy's old boat and sat on mosquito infested Hermon Pond for two hours whilst the boys caught their fill of pickerel and bass, crappie and perch... whilst the Mama sat with her head between her legs and her hoodie tied as tightly under her chin as possible to keep all of the high pitched buzzing out of her hearing for fear that she might lose her marbles...

Instilling Wonder.

When Family Day comes next around the corner... all of the eyes of my Loves look to me and allow me, the Mama, to choose for myself our Family activities for the day.  We call it:  "Mama's Choice Day."

It keeps me sane.
And it keeps them living.
And then we're all one happy little family.
Compromise.  It's what makes the world go round.
What a beautiful thing.

So, this past Family Day, I chose for us to take our maiden voyage to Bar Harbor for the day.  What I really wanted to do was go on a family bike ride all around Acadia....but we had just gone biking
a couple of days before....plus we have no bike rack....details, details....so we just loaded up our sweet selves and big ole picnic lunch and kicked it.

The day was nice - not overly hot or sunny - so significantly cooler along the coast, but still lovely and beautiful.  We stopped for a wee picnic at Thompson Island where the tide was way out, so the kids adventured out into the boot sucking mud in search of whatever critters they could collect.  I believe the search yielded a couple of tiny crabs, boatloads of bloodworms, and four filthy children.

My kids enjoy collecting things that are kind of grody.
Currently, we have an aquarium full of army worms - growing in all of their glory.
This here, is a bloodworm....and a filthy boychild:
Both a little bit grody....bloodworms have feet all over them.  And they bite.
These boys had mud all over them.  And they were stinky.
I guess I have fun collections, too.

Then we headed over to Sand Beach amidst this conversation in the backseat:
Kaden:  "It's freezing down here.  I'm not going swimming."
Jesse:  "CANNON BALLLL!!!"

This...is the look on London's face as soon as she saw the waves and the vast expanse of the ocean.
Zero fear.
Zero qualms.
Zero concern for if her Mama was nearby.
Zero respect for big huge waves that could carry her out to sea.
Zero problems with the water being bone aching-ly frigid.
Zero cares that her lips were blue and her entire body was shaking with chills.
And 100% zero concern that her Mama saved her life approximately 8 million times that afternoon.

These are her eyes of death when I finally had Kev tag in and take her away from the waves...
This child.
I have another little Jesse on my hands.  In female form.  Wild and free.  Fearless and Full Tilt.
Except with Jesse I was eight years younger.....

We rounded off the day with yummy homemade ice cream at a sweet little shop in Bar Harbor, and then the kids crashed hard on our drive back home.  Mama's Choice was a success.

Equal amounts of laundry needing to be done.  If I were honest, maybe more.
Much more energy exerted in keeping children alive.
Much more chilly.  But way less bugs.
Critters still caught and released.

I kind of loved it.
It was a good day.
One in which I needed a long, good night's sleep afterwards...

I kind of love these guys, too....
And I would fish with them every day on bug infested waters if that's what it took to prove it.

But, I'm glad I don't have to.

It's a Wonderful Life.
Wild and full.