Weekly Flutters

{from anotherfeather's instagram} I want to wrap my bathroom mirrors in greenery now.

Jan of Poppytalk {a blogging hero of mine!} shares a fabric printing DIY

This Anthropology-inspired yarn stitched rug DIY would look great in my kitchen.

This Washi tape cross-stitched pattern {I don't have a source for this pic} would look cute in my laundry room!

I've been craving some fun/ inexpensive ways to spruce my space.  Something listed here will be happening this weekend {maybe more than one thing... we shall see}...

Happy weekend to all!!

P.S.-- links are included for all of these... I just can't seem to change the color of my font {probably a "doi!" moment that I will eventually figure out}.  Just hover around and you'll see where to click.

Seven Years of Marriage...

The tally marks of anniversaries are added to the wall so quickly.  This year we celebrate seven, which I know is still a baby stage in this life-long commitment, but some days it really feels like we have been together forever {in a good way, wink.}

One of the things that used to scare me about marriage was the thought of losing myself. Not being independent, but not completely depending on someone takes mastery. In the end, I find it is not so much about losing myself, but about him saving me from myself.  Although it pains me to admit it, there have been times when I would have been wrong or embarrassed if he hadn't corrected me.  He makes me a better person.  He makes me braver, and stronger.  And I know that I do that for him, too.

Seven has always been a favorite number, and in marriage it is no different.  The rough patch that was year number six melted into smooth understanding with seven.  All of the places where we struggled to find a middle ground, all those growing pains in unity-- baked just long enough and hot enough to be bountiful bread for us this past year.  If there is any marital advice I feel qualified to give at this point, it is never walk away... even for a night.  Even if you can't agree, or you have been incredibly hurt,... you really should stay.  Abandonment is not a solution.  That is my two cents, anyway.  Fight it out... but never, ever say you are going to leave. {It's actually a little more irritating to say you are not going to move until the issue is resolved, don 't you think? If you feel the need to threaten, that's what I would go with.}

Matt has gone from a life full of training back into the regular work force.  It has not changed his schedule too much yet, but I know he is relieved to not be continually tested and graded.  This also marks four years for me being a stay-at-home mom.  I'll admit, there have been times I've sort of stunk at this; I am learning that as constricting as a schedule can be, I am so much better on one.  Our days are running smoother, and I can fit so much more into them.  I love how the boys get excited about "school" time, and that while my house may not sparkle, it is certainly ready for anyone who pops by.  I'm making strides in this whole homemaker thing.  People who scoff really have no idea...

This year Matt will not be with me on our anniversary, but I have never felt closer to him.  I read an old book recently in which a man proposed saying that he did not have much in the way of money, but he promised that by the evening fire, his face she would always see and hers he would always cherish.  The girl sort of got scared and rejected him... which was sad, but I totally get it.  With the wrong face, that would be a little creepy.  But with the right one, it is the most romantic line ever.  The fact that a man would gladly choose to spend his evenings in what some may deem boring solitude with his spouse, instead of out on more exciting shenanigans is the greatest compliment I can think of.  

Last year, I wrote that I was still a little sad for the loss of our former selves: I mourned the fact that there would be no more first kisses between us and all of the excitement of newness had faded.  This year I am grateful that I can be so fully myself, that I am not squirming in wonder if he really loves me, and I don't have to worry about being judged.  Dating was really a pain, people.  I was pretty stressed, and my heart was broken more than once.  I am so glad that I do not have to go through that anymore.  The comfort of growing old together is probably my favorite joy in this process.  I hope it's one I can continue in for many, many years.

Mornings...

I have been trying to jump start a different morning routine.  This has gotten me thinking about mornings in the past, the days I started off right and the ones that were not so good.  I am not a morning person at all, so I remember vividly and with little pleasure phases of my life that required my getting up at the crack of dawn.  Eew...

Lately I have had the great pleasure of sleeping until seven, and then crawling through a languid list of activities until about nine.  It has to change... I hate that it has to change.

I look back on mornings before I had the boys, and even after and my routine has been so much more relaxed, even bordering on the slothful; but I can't help it--- I so much love our lazy mornings, and I feel so blessed to have had a season in which I could just really love life at this time of the day.

Lately...

Mornings are for little hands on my shoulders gently waking me, and sweet little faces so happy to see my eyes open.  I watch them walk ahead of me to the kitchen, and melt over how they wobble because they feel they must carry every blanket and stuffed animal they own to the couch with them.

Mornings are for filling our bellies with soothing drink: creamy chocolate milk for them, piping, freshly ground coffee for me.

Mornings are for quiet talk, cuddling with favorite books, deep breathing, and the joy of being, and of being together.

Mornings are for a half hour to myself in the bathroom.  It's hard to explain how sacred this time is, but I love being able to start my day with a shower, to fix my hair and stare at my face.  I  don't think it's vanity... at least I hope not too much.  I don't stand there and criticize or pat my back for looking good.  I just stand there and think, and try to remember what I looked like younger, and imagine what I will look like older.  It's just a little way I try to connect with this body God gave me.

Mornings are for fresh laundry, clean dishes, putting away, sweeping under and dusting the tops off.  They are for teaching and sharing in little chores that make our days cleaner, clearer, and fresher.

Mornings are becoming a little rowdy, a little unhappy, and our days are a little too busy.  It is not a bad thing, it just means they need to be jumped into a little earlier and with a little more energy.  I would be crazy not to feel a little sad about what I'm losing, but I would also be crazy not to feel incredibly spoiled by every morning I have to spend as a stay at home mom, with such a sweet little family, in such a pretty little house.  Each and every day--- I am completely blessed.