The house is quiet.
This is a phenomenon that occurs only when the four little noise & mess-makers that live inside these walls have traded in their cowboys hats and ballerina skirts for little halos sleeping like angels in their beds.
This is my house.
This is the place where a coaster can never be found for a wandering drink as they are being continually hidden under couches and flung like Frisbees.
This is the place where at the end of the day, little tea-pots and a procession of army-men are more likely to decorate my end tables and shelves than picture frames and candles (which are also always M.I.A.!).
This is the place where throw pillows are literally thrown and are rarely setting on their couches.
This is a phenomenon that occurs only when the four little noise & mess-makers that live inside these walls have traded in their cowboys hats and ballerina skirts for little halos sleeping like angels in their beds.
This is my house.
This is the place where a coaster can never be found for a wandering drink as they are being continually hidden under couches and flung like Frisbees.
This is the place where at the end of the day, little tea-pots and a procession of army-men are more likely to decorate my end tables and shelves than picture frames and candles (which are also always M.I.A.!).
This is the place where throw pillows are literally thrown and are rarely setting on their couches.
This is the place where you could put down money on the presence of a Cheerio or jelly-bean hiding under the dining room table and always win the bet.
This is the place that is rarely quiet and usually loud.
It’s where laughter and tears converge.
It’s where food is devoured and messes multiply.
It’s where memories linger and time fades away.
It’s where little people learn and big people too.
It’s where a family learns to grow and to love.
It’s where I live and there’s no other place in the world I’d rather be.
Although I day-dream of fluffy pillows on clean couches (without crooked cushions!!) and roll my eyes when I can’t find a coaster for my drink, I wouldn’t trade the messes and the mayhem if it meant living without the privilege and joy of raising four people we are blessed to call our children.
I suppose one day I will have picture frames on my shelves instead of tea-pots and marching army-men; beautiful carpets and crumb-less floors. I may even reclaim all the M.I.A coasters and be able to finally offer our company a resting place for their drinks.
And when that day comes, I think I’ll throw a throw pillow on the floor...just for the heck of it. I’ll try my hardest as I sit in that quiet room to remember the noises of those little cowboys and dancing ballerinas who have grown and now have little mess-makers of their own!
And I may wish I could trade a clean and quiet house for the messy, loud one that sometimes drove me crazy.
This is my house...and I’m realizing, I really do love it; messes, noises and all.
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