The Winter of our Lives

Today, as I drove around in the sparkling first snow, I had this pretty Stie-ish post planned. Something about first snows, warm clothes, children and happiness. It would have been beautiful.



Then the kids got home from school.



And Gabe had grown out of his boots.

And they fit Jane but she didn't want to wear black boy boots.

And her socks kept slipping and messing up how the boots felt.

And Gabe walked around in my size 10 boots with mismatched gloves because he lost one on the way home from school today.

And Seth wailed in the house while I tried to wrestle the winter clothes tub down from our high shelf in the garage.

And then I had to try to shove his little hand into his mittens ("stick your thumb out! No, stick it out! Leave it out honey!" mittens thrown across the entry way).

And then I got a call from Ryan saying he had to work late (nothing to do with snow, but annoying, no?)

And Seth looked like a dork because, as the 4th child, he has to wear Emma's 24 month snowsuit, Gabe's gloves, his coat and some neighbor's lost/stolen hat. (Don't be fooled by how actually cute he looks in his picture...in real life it was much more ghetto, trust me.)

And he came back in the house approximately 7 minutes after the last button was snapped.

And Jane decided to take off the hated boots (because the socks had slipped again) all the way over at the neighbors and WALKED HOME with one bare foot.

And there are winter clothes strewn over the entire bottom floor of my house.

And Emma and Gabe LOVED it because they are 7 and 8. (And can clothe themselves and understand it's going to be cold and wet and have about 45 neighbor kids to play with.)

And so this is our life, right?

Beauty and mess, fun and frustration, tears and laughter...

why would the first snow of the year be any different?