My son, Carlos, has been asking for a real fire in the fireplace for weeks. And it’s my job to turn his “please?” into “Ta-DA!”
I’m not much of a fire-starter. In the 16 years that I’ve lived in this house with its two fireplaces, I’ve used about half a pickup truck load of wood. But what baby wants, baby gets, so I asked around about firewood and got in touch with a neighbor who had some to sell. We arranged a delivery. I got the cash. I cleaned out a spot in the garage. I helped unload and stack the wood because there are a lot of steps before the Ta-DA.
All worth it to make mah baybay’s dream come true.
Wouldn’t it be perfect to sit around a crackling fire on Christmas morning in our cozy pajamas? Sure, but it was 73 degrees at Christmas. OK…Carlos has a birthday the day after–we can build a roaring fire and…nope, still hot. Everybody put on your holiday flip flops.
Two weeks of school break melted away. On the first day back to school and work and normal schedules, Carlos asked–20 minutes before bedtime–if we could please have a fire. I put him off for another day.
I hate saying “no” to simple stuff but nothing seems like simple stuff anymore. I’m struggling. But tonight when I pulled into the garage after work and my headlights illuminated the stack of firewood, I made up my mind to make it happen. Do something simple and profound. Get to Ta-DA.
But what do I mean by “nothing seems simple?” First I had to…
- Relocate four dead houseplants off the hearth.
- Dust the cobwebs that clogged the firescreen.
- Move the dog bed.
- Check the flue.
- Offer a quick explanation about flew, flu, and flue to my son.
- Figure out how to turn on the flashlight app on my phone in order to see the flue.
- Contort my body into the fireplace for the right viewing angle.
- Tug lever to no avail.
- Question myself about whether I ever closed the flue 5 years ago after the last fire.
- Google “what does open flue look like.”
- Find WD-40 to loosen the rusted hinges on flue lever.
- Find hammer to supplement WD-40.
- Explain lubricants and hammers to Carlos.
- Shrug in a completely not resentful fashion when G says, from the couch, “Let me know if you want me to try.”
- Hammer with gusto.
- Let him try.
- Commiserate.
- Conclude jointly that the flue is probably open enough.
- Look around for newspaper even though we haven’t read an actual newspaper in many years.
- Rip up Vivi’s poster to make kindling.
- Light paper to ensure that smoke is drawing properly.
- Demonstrate proper log stacking to Carlos.
- Explain that fire is rapid oxidation of the wood so the air needs space to move around.
- Blow more oxygen onto dwindling fire.
- Relight guttering fire with the help of a starter log that’s been aging behind the TV cabinet since before Carlos was born.
- Explain propellants then answer Carlos’ followup questions about napalm. No shit, he’s really into military aircraft these days.
- Get the fire going briskly.
- Answer his questions about fire safety.
- Sit back on my heels and feel quite proud of myself.
- Open my mouth to proclaim, “TA-DA!”
…but before I can speak, he says,
“But, Mom! What about the marshmallows?”
It’s NEVER enough.
Never.
NeverEverEverEverEverNever.
Ever.
All my sense of victory…rapidly oxidized. Up in smoke. Kids today, right? They can’t be happy with the thing they asked for without asking for the NEXT THING. I had been laying this fire for WEEKS, kinda. I had invested real effort into creating the thing he wanted and now he wants marshmallows?
Luckily, I didn’t have time to say any of that to my sweet smiling son.
And then it hit me.
He’s not asking for the marshmallows because he doesn’t appreciate all the steps I took to make that fire. My sense of “it’s never enough” was reading that request as another personal failure–as if he had really been gunning for marshmallows and lured me in with the fire. I have a scarcity mindset when it comes to my parenting, that nothing will ever be enough. Why go through 30 steps to make a fire when he’s just going to ask for more, proving that what I did was not enough–even though it was exactly what he requested.
But the good news is–Carlos has developed an abundance mindset. He asked for the marshmallows not to negate the work I had put into building the fire but because the fact that his wish had been granted left him optimistic about the next step, the next treat coming his way.
Even though we didn’t have any marshmallows, and even though I got my fire-starting feelings hurt for a second, I’m delighted that Carlos asked for the marshmallows. He BELIEVES that marshmallows are possible because he’s seen Mama will do allllll these things (and answer his questions along the way) just to get to Ta-DA!
He expects sweetness and warmth. And he honestly believes that I can make them happen.
