The Homestead.

For as long as I can remember, the beginning of August means a trip to the Homestead. On its most basic level, the Homestead is a cabin in the great woods of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, built by my great-grandfather Walfred "Bosco" Johnson and his friend Elson Carberry in the 1940's. It's located between Munising and the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore near the shores of Lake Superior.

On a deeper level, the Homestead is so much more. It's one-of-a-kind, a place where the sights, sounds, and smells can instantly transport you to summers from long ago. A place seemingly untouched by the decades surrounded by miles and miles of untouched natural beauty. 

The Homestead is a place where...

...your daddy is always happy to give you a lift...

...and a boy can find an adventure around every corner.

A place where a drive down the Homestead road makes you feel like you're 8 years old again...

...and the woods seem untouched since the days of your great-grandparents.

A place where the end of the dock is perfect for long talks and ukulele lessons...

...and scrub brushes, a bucket of water, and a long deck equal hours of entertainment.

A place where beautiful hikes in nearby woods abound...

...you should always pack your swimsuit just in case...

...and the beauty of it all is enough to take your breath away.

It's a place where a legitimate hike usually means a few rounds of discussion about which way to go next...

...and you never pass up an opportunity to take a leap.

A place where waterfalls seem to be tucked behind every nook and cranny...

...and your daddy is...still...happily...carrying...you.

A place where Aunt Vickie rolls out the arts and craft like magic on your great-great-grandmother's farmhouse table...

...and if you wear your sweatshirt and your coat inside you can usually warm up (sometimes).

A place where you can eat s'mores for breakfast...

..and pick wild blueberries just steps off the front porch and eat them until your tummy hurts.

A place where you eagerly sign up for a rock hunting expedition (after all, it should be just around the next bend).

A place where you breath a sigh of relief that the pretty big rock really does exist...

...and you pack your bear whistle because you just can't be too careful.

A place where your Carberry & Johnson shirts are right at home...

...where the sky really is that blue, the trees that green, and the air that clear.

A place where there's always room for two...

...and your aunts, uncles and cousins still gather for an annual porch shot.

It's a place like no other place... and when you're here, you simply can't imagine being anywhere else on earth.

one of those days.

Matt has a new position at work, and we are thankful, but we're also all exhausted. Today, we needed to be together, to escape a little, just the five of us.

Today was one of those days.

We started out, haphazardly, towards a big zoo this morning. Right after breakfast. You know, at 11 am. (I may have returned from my 6am swim with the girls, showered and ready to greet the day head on. And I may have promptly crawled back into bed for the best two hours of sleep of my life.)

And so we began. Barely. We almost didn't make it out of the driveway. One of those days.

Hopping down the highway at 75 miles per hour, we hemmed and hawed. Keep going, an hour and twenty minutes to The Zoo, or take a chance on another zoo, just 30 minutes away?

We took the chance. Honestly, it sounded like less work. (One of those days.)

We exhaled as we exited the highway and drove through cornfields and past dairy farms and around curve and over hills. The part of me that is just like my mother wanted to stop and read every centennial farm plaque and historical sign.

And then, almost in a Field of Dreams like moment, we arrived.

The kids grumbled and groaned, piling out of the car.

We entered through the gift shop.

We positively perked up when we realized this was no ordinary zoo.

We walked and pointed and laughed and circled around and around. I wondered briefly about making a Plan, you know, for seeing the zoo in an orderly fashion, and then relaxed when I realized no plan was necessary.

It was one of those days.

Not too hot, even a tad bit cool. A relief to enjoy July without sweating.

We saw zebra and porcupines, alligators and addax. We rooted for the industrious tortoise, who looked to be plotting his escape. We took a safari ride on a giant bus with giraffe spots and couldn't believe how big ostrich eggs really are.

We picked up bunnies and chicks, and shrieked our way out of the parakeet enclosure. (Matt says it's good our independent Mady is reminded every now and then that she still needs us.) We fed llamas and baby goats. We picked out imaginary, exotic pets for our suburban back yard.

I took pictures like an old school mama - with an actual camera and with little thought as to how they might look on Instagram or Facebook or our blog. And then I put the camera away and the rest of our memories are tucked safely away in my mama's heart.

We stayed at the zoo way past lunch time. One of those days.

We stopped at a farmstand and bought English muffin bread, peaches, sweet cherries, and homemade donuts.

We took the scenic route back into a nearby little town, Matt's old stomping grounds. We ate lunch at a quaint little sandwich shop, and I enjoyed the best sandwich of my life. And then the girls antiqued (and Mommy held her breath), and the boys discovered (or in Matt's case, rediscovered) the magic of an old school card shop. Dylan spent his cash ($4 total: $3 he had saved up at home plus $1 To Be Worked Off Later).

We drove down the river, to a spot near the covered bridge. We watched a wedding party take pictures, and we ate our donuts. We circled back for the park bathrooms and stumbled upon a company picnic. We were approached by a clown making balloon animals and asked if we were with the company or just picnic crashers. We smiled and shrugged our shoulders, and tromped back to the car with a balloon bunny, kitty, and alligator tucked under our arms.

We drove home, four of us very sleepily, and also, honestly, on the edge of hysteria.

I headed for the couch - all I wanted was a quick nap - as the rain started to fall. Instead of a nap, three kids snuggled in, all elbows and knees. We started to play and bicker and talk about dinner, hoping someone else would make the first move. We decided showers first might be better.

Some families love to be on the go; I think more than anything, for better or for worse, our family loves to be at home.

From there, one lovely little lady tried to use the towel bar as a gymnastics bar and pulled it right off the wall, sawdust flying.

The boy couldn't wait to start looking up card values on eBay, carefully putting the best cards in clear holders, and labeling each one with little white stickers pulled out of his dad's own dusty boyhood briefcase.

We picked up the house and threatened bedtime and then forgot and played horse, crawling around on our hands and knees. There were accidents and spills, tears and I'm sorry's. Finally, later than we had intended, we brushed our teeth and snuggled three little ones into cool beds.

And as we did so, we marveled at a day lived well, a day lived together, a day lived imperfectly on many counts, but also a day lived just right.

It was, quite simply, one of those days.

birthday week breather.

Phew. I LOVE celebrating. But I'm a little exhausted. We're in the middle of an eight day stretch of November we affectionately refer to as Birthday Season (also known as The Mother of All Birthday Weeks).

November 9, 12, 13 & 17 are special days for the Terps. I try to strike a balance between proper planning and keeping it low key, but it can be hard to maintain the necessary amount of positive birthday spirit for this many days in a row.

Here's the highlight reel (because who can resist the happy smiles, the surprised faces, and the pretty cupcakes?) For everyone's benefit, I left out the parts where I yelled.

Matt starts out the birthday bonanza each year. Poor Matt. Once upon a time he had a birthday of his own. Now he shares it with these three adorable little ones who totally steal his thunder.

We enjoyed a wonderful meal at his parents' house, and the kids were delighted with their gifts including remote control cars (we're not sure who had more fun - Dylan or Papa), a Barbie swimming pool, and puppies, puppies, and more puppies.

On Monday, our celebrating centered around our sweet, blue-eyed girl, the one and only Ella Jeanne. Her after-school activity of choice was the oh-so-fun, oh-so-potentially-germ-ridden Playworld. We played hard with some friends and then headed down the road for another six-year-old pick: Steak n' Shake!

I went the easy route and picked up the cupcakes from our favorite bakery. Ella eagerly unwrapped girl Legos and "workout" clothes from us, and a special color-it-yourself purse picked out by big brother. These Lego Friends are where it's at - she loved them...and fortunately for them, the Lego gals have a little more shape to them than the boxy Lego guys.

This girl holds our hearts. She's smart and sweet, kind and caring, feisty and fun. She's growing up before our eyes and despite our repeated requests not to turn six, she went ahead and did it anyway. Partly because she was such a surprise (it's a GIRL!) and partly because of her semi-traumatic delivery, I remember many of those first moments in the hospital room with her so well. She came out screaming...and then those beautiful blue eyes seemed to settle down while her daddy held her and held her and held her. He was already thinking of the day he would one day have to let her go.

One short sleep later, and it's the birthday boy's turn. Dylan was revved up to go bowling after school so that's just what we did. Matt was working so that meant a three-on-one bowling session. Luckily it was nearly empty in there and the kids held it together. And we only had to call a bowling alley employee over once to dislodge a ball that was moving so slowly it actually got stuck.

Dylan requested Jet's Pizza (music to this mama's ears), followed by the cupcakes I picked up yesterday for Ella's birthday (will he need therapy later for that?), and another round of present opening. He unwrapped Legos...it's just where we're at right now, plus a real biking jersey just like Daddy's, and some tiny little Cars drifters from the sisters.

Sometimes its hard for me to believe that he's not a chubby cheeked little toddler anymore. He is positively with a doubt, a full-fledged boy. We are so proud of who he's becoming. His teacher told us at conferences that all the kids love to be around him and everybody wants to be his friend because he's such a great friend himself. He gets along well with everyone and treats them each the same. This is one of the things we are most proud of him for and I know it will serve him well in life.

One more birthday to go, with the littlest Terp closing out this year's Birthday Season. (More birthday cake? She's not complaining). We're going out with a bang with a special getaway coming up...not officially part of the birthday-ing - but you had better believe we're selling it that way. We'll either win an award for Best Parents Ever or we're creating the perfect storm for a spectacular meltdown.

We'll see. Stay tuned.

Belated is the New Black.

For 33 years, since the day I was born, my birthday has been celebrated in the warm summer month of August.

This past August, we got so busy living life to the fullest that my birthday celebrating took a back burner to our North woods exploring, #CottageWeek relaxing, and Denver discovering.

And while I did receive a singing pirate 'stache card (every girl's dream), a super sweet new camera strap (thanks, T), a pizza night with 14 of my favorite people (big and little), the distinction of celebrating my birthday week and cottage week simultaneously, and a Feel-the-Zeel sort of girls' night...

I kind of missed out on birthday cake and sweet cards with tiny signatures scrawled inside and -- the one thing I ask for on my birthday without fail -- a picture with my precious little kiddos.

Now my friends and family know that I take my birthday very seriously. I have been quoted as saying, "If you don't celebrate you, ain't nobody going to celebrate you." 

And I mean it. I love my birthday.

But really, at 33, I am adult -- like really, really an adult -- so I put on my big girl panties and moved on.

Imagine then my surprise to return home from taking the kids for hair cuts on Saturday morning and told to wait in the chilly fall air ...just for a second.

I waited... and when I was allowed in, I was handed my first clue. {Matt's kind of a legend around here with his scavenger hunt designs.}

It led me up to Mady's room. Which happened to be dark. And quiet. With nary a toddler in sight.

Until suddenly the closet door flings open, and the cutest 2 1/2 year old you've ever seen, yells "SURPRISE!" and hands me my first gift: a card featuring a dog sporting pigtails and braces. A card only a toddler would pick and exactly what this mama would have wished for.

Next we went to Dylan's room... and out of his closet pops my first baby - my deep thinking, hard working, almost eight year old boy with a beautiful bouquet of fall flowers.

Our last stop was Ella's room. By now I know to go straight to the closet, and when I open it, I find my sweet, pretty, full-of-life girl holding a plate of fluffy, shaken-by-her-giggles cupcakes from one of the best bakeries in town.

We laughed and laughed from one room to the next. We jumped up and down.
I was surprised, really, truly surprised. The kids were delighted. I was delighted. We reveled in the silliness of it all.

I felt loved. I am loved.

So that's the story of how I found myself eating birthday cupcakes on a cold October Saturday (before lunch, no less), seven weeks after my birthday.

That's the tale of the time I was blindsided by belated birthday love.

And that's how I got my picture this year... un-showered and in my best errand running clothes... but I stayed in the picture.

After we finished wiping the frosting from our lips, we went and picked out pumpkins. (Because that's what you do in October.)

In the end, a birthday is just a day. And whether it's August or October, it doesn't really matter... the joy is in the celebration.

There's no place like this place...

We traveled to the Upper Penisula this past week for a long weekend. If you're a Michigander, you know the U.P. is known for it's untouched natural beauty. 

We left Mady in the care of Uncle Chad and Aunt K3, piled the pick 'em up truck high with bikes, beach towels, and bug spray and hit the road.

Our first stop: The Mackinac Bridge. Dylan and Ella's first glimpse of Might Mac, the third longest suspension bridge in the world.

My mom's family owns a cabin up near Munising. My great grandfather, Walfred "Bosco" Johnson built it along with his friend Elson Carberry in 1946 and generations of children and adults alike have been enjoying it ever since.

It's been almost a decade since my last visit and the Homestead is just as I remembered (even a little bit better due to some recent improvements!)

The lake is lower than it was when I was a kid, but it is still absolute perfection.

Back to the basics: outhouse edition. Part of the charm of the Homestead is the lack of electricity and indoor plumbing (besides the pump at the kitchen sink.)

I was really taken by the history of the place this time around.
There are log books dating back to 1945...

...as well as black and white photographs from U.P. days long ago.

Our Ella hanging out on one of my favorite childhood spots: the swing.

An evening hike around the Homestead Lake and stopping to rest our legs at Katie's Rest.

The view of the cabin from the other side of the 15 acre lake.

We took a couple of hikes. One to see Chapel Rock...

...a breathtaking beauty.

Another around Beaver Lake, ending in this really cool cove on Lake Superior...

...which lent itself to some high adventure rock jumping.

One last shot: the traditional self-timed family picture in front of the cabin - aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, all enjoying a couple of days together in the quiet of the north woods.

There's no place, like this place, anywhere near this place.

SO THIS MUST BE "THE PLACE."