before thanksgiving, we bought a fire pit.
because that would mean we could be outside in colder weather...
and we could roast marshmallows.
it's a win-win.
so we all headed outside, made a beautiful fire, and roasted to our hearts' content.
now i'd love to say that it went well.
that it was all hunky-dory and fun and no one almost stabbed anyone with their skewer and no one got in trouble for running too close to the fire.
but i would be lying.
there was so much fighting.
and impatience (and not just me this time!)
and ignoring of directions.
and...well, you get the idea.
in my head, these moments always seem so amazingly beautiful.
peaceful, serene fire-sitting with kids in tow.
but that's not how it
ever usually goes.
and the hubs, he knows this.
when i come up with an idea like, "let's make s'mores on the fire pit and have a movie night," the hubs quietly helps me carry out my plan, all the while knowing it will end in discipline and early bedtimes.
because our kids, well, they're a bit of a handful.
and sweet man that the hubs is, he doesn't ever say, "you crazy woman, why do you come up with ideas that are tons of work and not child-friendly? i'm gonna go eat some buffalo wings and watch some sports and you deal with this mess yourself."
--apparently men eat lots of meat and abandon their families to watch sports in this scenario.
is that stereotypical? my bad.
he just lovingly helps me do it and watches it all go to pot.
god bless that man.
needless to say, the evening didn't go smoothly and in five minutes there were approximately 17.2 near-death experiences and did i mention that we thought asher broke his arm and had to take him to the doctor and pay an insane amount of money for x-rays to find out it was just nursemaid's elbow?
-- i think someday this will become a fun memory of how life with young children is messy and fun and busy and filled with redirection and yes, early bedtimes and possible broken limbs.
this is normal, right?