4th

I'm blogging again.

I realized today the last month was the least blogged month ever in over two years.

Wow.

Not that each day hasn't been full of sweet sayings and cherished firsts and notable routines and memorable valleys,

it's just that the 

hampers and dishwashers and reading and schedules and photography-ing and editing and 

dailyness

has taken up just a little more time lately.

Oh,

and my three children.

I'd love to blog a little upcoming about some lessons we're learning, I'm learning, we're practicing, we're living,

but,

in the meantime, 

I'm learning to be peaceful, present.

It's a

busy

good

season.

However,

this weekend was carved out for a little more down time,

kicked off with the 4th and a day of fishing and picnic-ing and swimming and relaxing.

Four generations pond side with just as many catfish caught.

One just might have flopped out on my leg on accident.

Slapped me with its slimy, scaly flippy self. 

I couldn't have hated it more.

And I scared my children half-to-death with my shrieks

and then spent the rest of the afternoon back-pedaling with strategic remarks on how fun this surprise was so as not to scar them for the rest of their existence.

I'm not sure how successful my attempts were.

And the picnic-ing was no less than delicious,

grilled meats and freshness.

It doesn't hurt to have some foodies around.





And the swimming?

It was loud and wet and spitty and exhausting.

Just as we grownups planned.



So that an early bedtime prevailed and the rest of the evening was spent kicking back with free flowing drinks and rich conversation.

(Follow me on Instagram to catch an outtake of the holy dialogue: Allisoncorrin )


But before bedtime,

pajama-clad and all,

we popped a few poppers

just for the surprise faces

and memories.

Thus,

another successful celebration.

One that even (surprisingly enough these days) got blogged.

Sharing

Getting back from sharing our little getaway has proven a little more time-consuming than I first anticipated...

Between the busiest season of photography yet, everyday chores, working off the vacation lbs, and continued efforts of "home preschool",

I've been at 3+ cups of coffee a day.

I think all mommas,

working at home, working outside the home

or a little of both

can relate.

Our full hearts, full blessings come with 

full days.

These days I've been so thankful

 for my heritage, my mentors, my friends, those I admire from afar

in all that they've shared with me in these first years of marriage, first years of motherhood.

The one who waits patiently for her momma days,

the momma who works peacefully outside her home and comes home to her most special full time job,
the momma who works all day every day in the home,

the one who sends her littles as blessings to the classroom,

the one who spends the hours at the kitchen table teaching,

we're all doing our best,

we're all learning as we go,

sharing struggles, sharing ideas, sharing triumphs.

This all to say,

I've mentioned little tidbits of lessons I've learned before, 

shared resources, shared approaches, shared practices 

and it's something I've been mulling over for the last couple weeks

(add that to the todo list I mentioned above)

processing some tips others have shared with me hoping to pass them on...

But in the meantime,

life is good.

Seven

We took a little time away this past week.


A chance to explore new sands and

appreciate the old comfort
of us.


I read two books when I can't remember the last time I even finished one...

See, we're coming up on ten years together,

seven years as hubby and the Mrs.

And these years have included a lot.

I've shared bits of our story before...
We haven't been through it all,

yet.

However, we've seen a lot,
and
I'm realizing with each anniversary,
each new triumph we celebrate, each sadness we comfort, each adventure we conquer
growing up isn't an option,

but growing together is.

It's not an easy task to safe safekeep the softness, the sacred of a marriage.

And as those who pioneer this marriage thing years, decades ahead of me would probably agree,
I'm guessing difficult really doesn't even begin to describe it.

Somewhere along the way between finding the white dress and plucking the white hairs,

life happens,

the urgent presses,

the unforeseen sweeps in.

And sometimes suddenly, but usually subtly, the successes, celebrations of "we" aren't nearly as thrilling.

(The way my hubs travels versus the way I travel.)

(This restaurant counts down to sunset every night. Every. Night.
Marketing ploy? Probably.
Reminder to cherish the beauty every day. Yup.)
But,
I'm reminded by the marriage examples set by our parents, our grandparents, other amazing twos paving ten, twenty-two, thirty-three, thirty-five, fifty years as one

somedays are going to be less glorious than others
we're going to face the valleys,
we're going to hurt and be hurt,
and there are going to be lows I didn't know existed,
but,
how beautiful it is to love and be loved through choosing love

choosing to forgive,
to hold hands,
to listen,
to ignore the small nuisances and celebrate the small successes

together

as one.

***
Instagram pics...

Wanna find me? My username is allisoncorrin