I have zero expectations when it comes to ANY activity that involve my children so I’m rarely disappointed when Sh&% hits the fan. Which is more likely to happen than not. A few days ago it was a balmy 15 degrees out we got the kids pumped up for sledding. First it was a lost mitten and then forgotten swim googles that would keep the snow out of the big ones eyes. At least 45 minutes of getting ready to sled came to 15 minutes of actual sledding with big tears by both the little and big ones. All I could do was laugh. Crazily the big one talked about how much fun he had- even though I was sure he had none. (the tears and screaming I want to go home- gave me that idea) Slowly, I’m realizing even though I view something as a complete failure my kiddos do not. Our imperfectly perfect life and my best is good enough for them and should be good enough for me. What can I say, I’m learning. Adulting is hard. Parenting is even harder for me. Below are photos when I envisioned my children would be excited to wear new pajamas and go on the polar express. Really, that as the best time EVER. But it’s hard when you can’t eat all the marshmallows you want.