Brothers and Sisters.

It has been quite the week.

Brother flew home from Texas for a surprise visit.

Sister made a pit stop in Maryland before jetting back to California.

Another Brother turned 21.

And the Baby broke his arm.

All in one week.

It's a beautiful kind of craziness being one of eight.

Sometimes the craziness looks like arm wrestling on a Friday night.

First up, the Sis and the Baby (please note the sling. The broken arm. One minute he was playing football with friends, and the next minute he was in the hospital.)

The Dog: WHAT is going on, guys?

The second brother and the third brother square off.

These middle brothers...they don't go down without a fight.

The middle brother and the oldest brother. Will the oldest go easy on him? Or, will he put him in his place? Will he show him who's boss???

 OH!

The second born steps in...he must have a hand in this fight. Literally.

In fact, he wants more than a hand. He wants a whole body.

The wrestling begins. Sis clears the scene. The Dog scrambles for post-dinner crumbs.

Man down! Man down!!!

Post-arm wrestling. Brothers and sisters.

Together for the first time since January.

And as for a next time? Soon I hope!

Disclaimer: I am wearing the apron, yes. But it was Brother who cooked the dinner. And it was Pioneer Woman who shared the recipe.

And it was my stomach that enjoyed the Chicken Fried Steak.