Vacation Day One: and the Traditional Destroying of my Phone.

Behold, my Sanity!
Oh, wait....that was before four children.  Sanity has been lost for years...

Behold, my Place of Rest!
Nope...no...that's not going to work, either.
Especially, when three of my four children each took turns falling off of the dock this week.

Behold, my Bliss!
Yes.  Let's go with that one.

My Happy Place.

14 out of our 16 years of marriage we have been coming here.  (Two of those years we were city peeps living out in Philly). We even spent part of our Honeymoon on this sweet little island.  We can count the vacations by the ages of our kids...and by the level of chaos that each stage of those ages has brought to the table.  Ha!  Kaden and London have been out here as young as six and eight weeks old.  No matter the ages of our babies...and no matter the amount of crazy...if we have been Home in the summer, we have come to this little piece of Heaven.

My kids live for this week out to camp.  It is one of their greatest highlights of the summer.  And it's one of Kev's and mine, as well.  We feel so very blessed and thankful to be able to use this camp. Years ago, (I believe my facts are correct), my Father-in-Law's Dad bought this little island for just a couple of hundred dollars.  Crazy!  It's really priceless...

Adventures in Toddlerhood.

Sweet simplicity.

No electronics.  Surrounded by nature.  Lulled to sleep by the lapping of waves and the cries of the loons.  It really is a little slice of Heaven.  My little brother and his wife and two sons live right in the town of Rangeley, as well, so it's really special to spend some time with them on their turf and do some crazy adventuring together whenever we come into "town."

Now that I mention Crazy Adventuring....I feel like it's time for a story:

We spent the first night at my little bro's house, and decided the next morning to hike some trails up to what is arguably the tallest waterfall in Maine - Angel Falls.  It's a fun little hike - fairly short - that switches back and forth across the river several times before arriving at the tippy top.  Definitely would not have worked for London's toddler legs and balance, but perfectly doable for all of the little boys, with just a few places where we needed to help them.

Fun and crazy.

Before the trail even started, though, Aaron knew of a little fishing hole down in the woods that had some great little trouties; so the boys all traipsed off into the wilderness with Julie and I wearing our packs of small children following along behind.  They fished there for a bit, caught a couple of trout, the littlest boys explored all around, and then we decided we needed to actually get on the trail before the toddlers got too antsy in their packs.  When we finally got on to what we thought was the trail, it completely dead-ended, and we realized we needed to turn around.  By this time, the four and five year old boys were loudly announcing that they were ready for this adventure to be over, London was destroying my back, and we hadn't even set one foot on the actual trail.

We finally found the start of the trail, and Julie and I looked at each other, promptly set our toddlers onto the ground, and got out lunch!  We didn't even pull off the trail.  We just stepped to the side a bit, spread out lunch for the Littles, and took a nice long break before we even began.  Everyone that passed us going up the trail kept asking us how the view was at the top - assuming that we were on our way down!  For some reason, this struck the four of us adults hilarious, and we all died laughing. We'd take turns saying something smart to anyone who asked us a question.

Kev would say:  "We're just pacing ourselves."
I would optimistically call out:  "We're almost there, right?"

This is totally the stage of the game where we are at right now, and we might as well embrace it.  Everything takes longer.  Someone is always needing something - food, a tree to pee behind, just one more cast!!! - of such is this season of motherhood, and while we were eating our lunch on the trail that we hadn't even set one foot onto yet, it just struck me hilarious and kind of sweet.  This is a crazy, chaotic season right now.  It would be so much easier to just stay home.  It honestly would.  Everything takes so much time and so much work.

But, it's worth it.  And the memories are priceless.  And it really is so very fleeting.

Speaking of priceless memories...let me carry on with my story.
So, after our bellies were filled, and after we actually got ourselves onto the correct trail, and after I traded packs with Kevin - lunch was over, so the food pack was considerably lighter than the London pack.  I'm no fool - it really only took us about a half hour to get to the top.  The hike was really fun, and we hadn't done this since our Honeymoon sixteen years ago.  Many waters have gone under that bridge, so to speak...

Aaron's family had to get back home, so we didn't stay up there long.  Ransom and I followed them back to the cars via the way we came, and Kev and the two big boys decided to fish the river back down and meet us there...thinking the river would just spit him back at the starting point.  Aaron took off for home while Rancey and I sat on the hood of our car and ate a bag of chips.  I realized that Kev had the keys in his pocket.  No big deal.  I had the snacks, and it was a nice day, so we were golden.

After eating the entire bag of chips.
And after taking about 35 selfies of ourselves on the hood.
After Ransom did his business #2 behind a tree.
And after the 57th bug bite...
I decided it was time for us to get walking.

I wrote a message in the dirt of our car windows:  "Headed home.  Pick us up!"

We were literally out in the wilderness...  we never would have made it back to my brother's place, but I decided that heading that way actually made me feel like I was getting somewhere.  We sang songs.  We collected five dead butterflies.  We picked a bazillion wild strawberries.  We made stick trails for about two miles.  Ransom went to the bathroom again.  He chattered incessantly about all of his birthday gift choice options that he would like to have three months from now.

Mama Loon and her baby at camp.

And I rued the moment that I ever said to Kev:  "London is sleeping, so just take your time."
Three.  Hours.  Later.  they emerged from the woods.

They had gotten lost - the river does NOT spit one back onto the trail - and about 1 1/2 hours in, they realized that they needed to do some serious backtracking to be able to get back onto the trail. Somewhere along the way, Kev slipped on a wet rock, twisted his ankle, and London and the backpack kind of flung off to the side with my phone taking a swim downstream.

He was really starting to get concerned - he had three of the four kids - one whom he'd been wearing for just about four hours, zero cell service, and (so he thought) no water.  There actually was water in the pack, which he would have found if he'd had to go digging.  Meanwhile, I was never once concerned.  I honestly thought that he'd just completely lost track of time.  This happens during hunting and fishing season...  Three hours was excessive, but I would not have been surprised.  Oh Heavens.

Good times.  We'd said we were going without electronics.  That just made sure of it.  Day one last year, my phone fell out of my pocket and shattered on some rocks.  Maybe this is to be one of our new fun little traditions.  Better my phone than something far worse that could have happened.

Needless to say, we were both a little frazzled and tired by the time we got to camp around 7:00 p.m.  We tucked the two youngest ones right into bed - Ransom had just had a three hour walk! - we unpacked and settled in, and then completely vegged and relaxed until the late, great hour of 9:00 p.m. where we kicked it off to bed ourselves.

We like to make sure that we're extra specially exhausted to really be able to fully appreciate our vacations....

Into the WILD.

One thing that Kev and I have learned to do during the course of our 16 years of camping together is the art of packing light for a three day adventure:

Nailed it.

In my home, I am a minimalist.
On a camping trip...one just never knows what one might need.
Throw in four children and a chance of rain, and we are McGyver times two.  Ready for anything.
Every possible thing we could ever need is on that trailer.  Bam.

All the makings for a cozy Home away from Home.

End of School, Start of Summer, Birthday Camping Tradition.

Boys off by themselves in their own tent, included.

Rain also included.  Always part of the tradition.  Without freaking fail.

The weather likes to mock me on these vacations.

I've learned to see the humor.

For at least about seven years now, we have always had our yearly family camping adventure at our local Peaks Kenny State Park.  We call it gourmet camping.  It's pristine and lovely.  There's electricity in the bathrooms.  And showers.  It's fairly well populated -- except for the weekends that we have always chosen to camp, because we like to go during torrential rain storms.  The one perk of these weekend adventures, is that we tend to have the entire campground to ourselves.  Most people have enough good sense to cancel their expeditions when they watch their local forecast for the weekend.  

Not my boys.  

They think it adds to the fun.

This year, because of my Daddy-O's expressed interest in the place, and because he rarely voices an opinion about something he'd like to do, we decided to mix things up a bit and head up North - seven miles straight into the woods - to this truly wilderness park campground owned by the wee town of Mattawamkeag.  And in the true spirit of "The County," instead of uniformed campground officials waiting for us at the gate to give us our campsite ticket to put on the window of our car and receive payment from us, this is what greeted us upon our arrival:

All righty, then.
Classic.

For some reason, I just found this to be highly awesome and hilarious compared to what I'm so very used to from past camping experiences.  The campground is under new ownership this year, and needless to say, the new manager of the place is very "chill."

The bugs were a wee bit atrocious, but this was to be expected seeing as how we were literally camping out in the middle of nowhere.  Dad brought both of his four-wheelers, the kids had their bikes, the river was within walking distance, and we barely saw one other living soul during our entire visit, so we pretty much conquered the campground in our explorations and adventuring.  It was very Swiss Family Robinson-ish.

I love this sign, too.

The river really was a little wild.  No roped off swimming area with a lifeguard, here.
Only one large uncle to rescue two wild hoolie boys who kept threatening to float downstream.
The other Littles stayed pretty close to shore, and Aunty Julie and I stayed on high alert.

There was a gorgeous breeze at the river, so there were really no bugs down here.  The big kids took turns trying to float away and catch a few fish.  The Littles threw rocks to their heart's content.  And Grampy and Grammy brought down lawn chairs to just take in the sights and the sounds of sweet, happy chaos.

 My boys informed me they could live here...

We always do some form of celebrating on this one weekend tenting trip that we have each year with both sets of Grandparents and whatever Aunty's and Uncle's can get the time away to come along for the ride.   Typically, it's the two biggest boy's birthdays that we are celebrating.  This year, my little nephew Wyatt had a birthday, as well, so we just make it one big ole' celebration.

Kaden, Jesse, and Wyatt's birthdays!  Woot!
School's out!  Yippy!
Father's Day!  Yahoo!
Family together in the WILD!  Good times!

So, we always get a pinata.
It's tradition.
I like tradition.  And candy...

And we always make super fun and yummy and unhealthy and delicious and super bad for you food to snack on all the live long day and night every hour of every day that we are there.

Exhibit A:
Camp fudge.

Behold, my crack.
I'm pretty sure it's the only thing in the world that I am absolutely addicted to when it's made.
But only when it's brown sugar fudge.  And only when Dad makes it.
I especially love it made over an open fire.
I think I ate ten pieces only a piece or two because I have super awesome willpower.

Exhibit B for fun camp food that is also tradition:
Campfire eclairs.

Find a chubby stick and wrap aluminum foil around the end.
Take a crescent roll and wrap that baby around the foil.
Cook it over an open fire like you would a marshmallow until it's golden brown.
Ease it off the stick and fill that hole as full as you can with vanilla pudding.
Slather some nutella on top for garnish and you have yourself one rockin' party in your mouth.

You're welcome for this.
Move over, S'mores.  Mama's gone gourmet.

And finally, last but not least of course, Exhibit C:
Camp coffee.

To be enjoyed at all hours of the day, as many cups as one wants to have, because we're camping, and on a camping trip there seems to be zero moderation....and I'm supremely okay with that for four days.

Until I go home and try to run a few miles.
Then for some reason, my body rebels and betrays our friendship...

 Some wildlife.

Fun fact:  When luna moths hatch, they only live for two weeks.  They have no mouths, so they do not eat.  Their sole purpose is to reproduce.  Kind of crazy.

And a sweet little snakey with a chubby belly full of.....something.

Overall, a lovely time was had by all.

It rained one night and and one full morning, but by midday the weather cleared off pretty decently.
And in the meantime, there was this super funky, kind of old, "recreation building" that was full of fun games and books, and air hockey tables....so we all went and hung out there until the rain stopped.

The kids played with some birthday presents.
Julie and I beat Aaron and Kev in some beanbag toss game that was super fun.
We had snacks, the littles ran around, my brother had a crank radio....it was really kind of cozy and fun.

The overall verdict is that we all loved this new place.
It was a fun change from our normal tradition of Peaks Kenny.
(Although, we really really missed our "Darrah Day" that always came with that tradition.)

It's a little farther away and far more "rustic."
The bugs were significantly worse, and the campsites were wild and wilderness-y.
But, they really had a sweet charm, with rustic lean-to's everywhere, to boot.
The river was a fun change, and the four-wheeling trails were amazing.
It was very quiet and private...we practically owned the place.
And other than the outhouse doors being locked for the first few hours of our stay, I give it a rousing two thumbs up....for anyone who likes going into the WILD.

For anyone who doesn't, I might stick with the state parks...

It was happy.
It was fun.
Love tanks filled.  Up to the tippy top brim.

Another year in the books.

Sabbath.

We haven't hit summer vacation in the Booker Academy of Brainy Brilliance just yet. (The name is a joke.  I promise we don't call ourselves that).  We have a few more books to finish reading, and we're still plodding away at Math.  But, it's starting to feel like Summer vacation, nonetheless.  Our days are starting to have a different rhythm, and the tone of the house just feels more relaxed and cozy. We're on vacation - just with a little Math thrown into the mix of it all...

Summer in Maine is to be savored.
I feel like June and July are the Sabbath of the seasons, and they are not meant to be wasted.
Just a few weeks of glory, and then it's gone.

So here's to a few weeks with no agendas.  No schedules.  Sunshine and growth.  New life and firefly evenings.  To paying less attention to what time the kids get to bed.  To their hair getting blonder, and their tans going deeper.  It's milkshakes for lunch, and it's suppers on the back deck.  Fishing trips every other weekend, and camping with the Grandparents.  Redneck slip n sliding tarps out back and turtle eggs hatching in our kitchen.  Bike rides and BBQ's, and days spent with friends.

These are the glory days of Summer.
We'll fit Math around all of this.

Meet Wendy.  She rocks.

My dear friend Wendy Smith - whom I grew up with in the County - is the coolest, quirkiest, crunchiest, smartest Homeschooling (unschooling?) Mama that I know.  (She really is super smart.  To decompress, she likes doing things like memorizing the periodic table or learning some new concept of something that I've never even heard of - nor care to have fog up my brain.  I enjoy long stares into space for my decompression time...)  Anyway, she always wraps up the school year with an amazing field day at her house - complete with an obstacle course, relay races, build your own banana splits, gifts for the Mamas, fun food, and just sweet, sweet fellowship with other crazy Mamas like myself.  It's tradition.  It's Epic.  And she's amazing.  Thank you, dear friend, for the vast amounts of work you put into that day.  All the rest of us just show up.

Pie eating contest.

The boys have already been on two weekend fishing trips with their Daddy and some awesome friends.  Oddly enough, one trip happened right on Kaden's birthday, and the other right on Jesse's.  This was Heaven for the boys, and London and I kicked it up North to my Ma and Pa's - which was Heaven for us, as well.  We spent our days playing with Grampy and Grammy - blissy 4-wheeling, dooryard fires and camp coffee, tea parties and treats, and movies at night.  That sort of thing is Joy Fuel for me.

My Daddy-O.

Pastor Kirk has been talking about stress at church - and about taking a Sabbath - a true day of rest where no work gets accomplished.  From the days of our newlywed youth, Kev and I have practiced this together -- religiously, for the most part, and I'm pretty sure it's been our sanity.  Kev is the protector of our family.  I can tend to let things crowd in and just say:  "Well, it's a season"...and then we find ourselves months down the road, still in that season, with a different season coming around the corner...and before we know it, we've lost all semblance of Family Day, or Sabbath,....or even our sanity, for that matter.

Camp coffee.  Pot of water boiling over open fire.  Throw in some coffee grinds.  Boil some more.  Savor the flavor.

He keeps us grounded.  He keeps us connected.  And he's the one who has the better pulse on the heartbeat of our family.  Our Sunday is insane - blurring instantly into our weekdays where we pass like ships in the night for a few days.  So, come Friday or Saturday, we will disconnect from Life and we will unplug.  We'll play as a family, and we'll go on a date.  A lot can happen in five or six days' time where we're talking over kid's heads or kissing goodbye out the door....with no real time to talk or connect uninterrupted...always racing to places we need to go.

 I found a Mama Snapper hit by a car in the middle of the road one day.

I collected her eggs...we did a little research...and they are now in an aquarium in my kitchen.

23 eggs next door to my coffee maker.

Come on over....I'll make you a cup 'o Joe and send you on your way with a baby snapper...

This would be one of my biggest pieces of advice to young newlyweds...  Make the time.  Make the sacrifice - to be able to make the time - if need be.  Schedule it in, just like you would any other important meeting.  No job...no promotion...no pay raise... is more important.  Life will only get busier...and the disconnect will only grow wider.

If we let weeks and weeks go by before taking a day - or even just a date - for reconnecting, for hearing each other's hearts, and for going deeper....well, I can see how couples become strangers.  I get it.  You have to schedule dates and family time in just as seriously as you do any other important meeting.  And what meeting - what JOB - is more important than the one with your spouse called "Marriage" and "Family" where you assess and re-assess what's working....what's not....what needs tweaking....how are our souls....what's going on in our deepest places....tackling life and its problems together as the joint CEO's of our own little companies of HOME?  Nothing else will work right if the core is off balance.

Our society thrives on racing.
Our Country lives the Blur.
We're good at it.  We are expert multi-taskers...to the point where we do nothing well, and we are never fully present.

Excuse me whilst I step off of my soapbox now.  Sorry about that...
Preach it, Pastor Kirk.  Sabbath is good.  Sabbath is holy.  A day of rest....

It pushes our Reset button.  It fills us back up so that we can pour out.  It puts us back on the same page.  It connects us to our kids and to each other.  We've made some of our most life changing decisions over a burger and a cup of coffee.  No lie.  We've had some of our deepest conversations and shed many a tear together as our waitress was re-filling our waters in the darkest booth of some restaurant.  We've had heavy heart to hearts over Cribbage on some beach with our kids running wild.

We disconnect....to reconnect.
To remember our purpose together.
To remind ourselves that we're in this Together.
To refuel and reaffirm when the world has maybe beat us down throughout the week.
To cheer each other on...to re-align our steering if need be...and to fuel up, to pour out....

Preach it, Kirk.
Preach it loud, and preach it clear.

Eight.

Jesse Micah - God's Gift.
And indeed you are, sweet boy.
Happy Birthday Number 8!

My shortest labor.  My easiest delivery.  One of my most favorite memories.

After Kaden's birth, we decided to go crunchy with a midwife for our next go round.  I got sick in my pregnancy, so we couldn't use the Birthing Center, but I still got to have my midwife at the hospital. We had over a half hour drive and you wanted to come in the middle of the night.  You came a bit early, so we weren't entirely prepared.  Daddy had to stop for gas, and we couldn't remember to go left or right at the exit.  When we flew through the toll booth, we didn't have the exact amount of cash, but I told Daddy to let her keep the change.  He was flying, and I told him the turns were painful so "Please slow down!"  But then my water partially broke so I yelled:  "Speed up!  Speed up!"  When we walked through the doors of the hospital, the lady at registration asked me my level of pain.  I told her clearly that I needed to push, and eight minutes upon walking through those hospital doors, you were born.

My kind of labor and delivery.
Fast.  Crazy.  Breath taking.  Just like you, Jess.

For some reason, I was completely persuaded that you were a girl - I have no idea why.  We were solidifying your name during the drive while I was in full blown labor...but it was only for a girl.  Never once did we discuss a boy name.  We had always agreed that we would both love whatever name we chose, and I wanted Jamie, but Kev wasn't a fan.  He wanted Taylor (or was it Hunter?), but either way, it was a definite No from me.  So, there was about a ten minute discussion between us while you snuggled in deep. We have both always loved Jesse....and I had wanted Micah from the beginning (but one of my dear friends had claimed that a few years before)...so with our midwife and nurses voting right along with us, we all agreed that Jesse Micah suited you.

It was unanimous, and we were in love.

You entered my arms screaming bloody murder -- red faced and announcing your presence with authority.  And to this day, that's how you continue to enter a room or join in any play.  One of my favorite memories of you is a couple of summers ago watching you race across our backyard, hair flying wild all around, arms opened wide, screaming:  "Here comes Jesse!!!"

I love that about you.
You don't do anything halfway.  And you are surely your own little man.

Rock jumping.  By the fire.  Classic Jesse.

Of all of our kids, outwardly, you are the most like me.
Loud.  Crazy.  You enter a room talking.  Just a little bit clumsy.  (Sorry, Love.  That's ALL me). But, inwardly, you're also a whole lot like your Daddy.  You are a deep thinker.  You ask the heavy questions...and your mind is always working.  It's kind of a fun combination.

There are so many aspects of you that I love and admire:  You love everyone.  You want to be everyone's friend.  No one is a stranger.  Your heart is huge, and you love to give.  You are a lover of life, and often we'll hear you say:  "Best day EVER!"  Your energy is endless and your joy is contagious.

You are indeed, our wild and crazy Boy Joy.
I see you in London.  So much.
She's watching you, Love.  Remember that.  I love how you love her.  I love how you protect her.

You are strong, sweet boy.  You are big for your age.  People often confuse you for being many years older than what you really are.  We've told you for years that God has made you strong, and you need to use your strength for good.  Let your strength match your heart.  Be tough and be tender - that's a pretty awesome combination.  That's what I say about your Daddy.  He's big, and he's strong....but he is gentle and he is tender.  He is kind, and he is good.  That's how I want you to grow up to be.

I love your heart, Jess.  I love the questions that you ask.  It amazes me sometimes - the depth of your thoughts.  But, I love that you're not afraid to ask them.  And I love that you trust us with your heart.  I pray that you always will.  We are safe, and you can always ask us anything.

Jesse, my prayer for you this year is the same prayer I wrote about for your older brother.  You can read now, and you can surely think for yourself...so I pray that you use your skills to make your walk with Jesus your own.  I pray for a love of His Word, and a hunger to know Him more.  He has given you your gifts and He has given you your strength.  Get to know the heart of your Creator who made you!

First swim of the season.  Early May.  Jump right out of the boat.

I am so thankful for the gift of you, Bud.  You truly are the definition of your name.  You bring joy and energy to our Home.  You bring Life and an abundance of love and fun.  Thank you for the gift of You!  Thank you for the love that you gift to us - wild and free - tackling bear hugs, sweet kisses, and arms perpetually flung around one of us.

I love it all...  I love YOU!  (More than you love me...it's just true.  Deal with it).

Bloodworm capture.  Filthy Boychild.

Happy birthday number 8, Jesse Bear!
My Wild Child.
My Boy Joy.
My Gift from God.

Homemade drumset.  In my living room.  Front and center.