Monday, March 5, 2012

...and this is why we can't have nice things.

Living with a house full of kids has it's benefits, for sure.

They always have someone to play with.  They've got allies in their battles.  They have cohorts in the land of imagination.  They lean on each other.

They make me laugh....all the time.  They are my greatest source of joy and pride.

Living in a house full of kids also has it's downsides.

They are basically the human equivalent of poop-flinging monkeys.

They make messes.  Everywhere they go. There isn't a single room in my house left untouched...not even my bathroom.  There is evidence of children in every nook and cranny, under every bed and cabinet, on the carpets and on the floors.

They touch everything.

Over time, it builds and builds.  It's reached a critical level.

I have nail polish drops on my wood floor.  Pieces of the molding that have been kicked off or run into so many times that they are broken and gone now.  Every so often I still find tiny black letter keys from the computer they disassembled.  I have a set of gorgeous bookcases, covered with glass doors....only the glass is missing from one after the ninja door kicking incident that tested my kid-patching abilities again.

I spent all day Saturday shampooing the carpet downstairs.  There is little else in the universe that can make you feel completely disgusted by the living conditions you dwell in than shampooing carpet.  So gross.  I hate carpet.  On the upside, the dirty water that got sucked off the floor was sparkly....proof that there are indeed two little glitter-loving girls here.

I'm really glad that a few people talked me into waiting until after the slumber party to do it.  If my kids are messy, adding an extra 6 didn't make it better, that's for sure.

It's to the point now where I pretty much need to repaint the entire house.  You can only scrub the walls so many times before the texture starts to come off with the markers and glue and glitter.  The walls are scraped and dinged and dented, proof that life is well lived here and often includes dart gun wars and indoor soccer games.

There are the marks that I can remember, like the morning the metal shopping cart got launched from the top of the stairs and the kids all immediately realized they were going to be in big trouble.  Not just for the dent in the wall, but for the risk they were taking by doing it, knowing that someone or something more important than a sheet of drywall could have taken the hit.

There are the marks that still make me laugh, like the streaks of yellow on Ally's closet door, put there by a very mischievous little boy one afternoon as his sister slept.  Don't worry, she got colored yellow too.  Of course he found a cheap dollar store marker to do it.  The marks on her eventually faded, but nothing was getting them off the walls.

There are the ones that scare me, like the line the baby gate made in the wall when it came crashing down.  I was reminded again that morning that kids will always, always, always find a way to escape, even if it means scaling walls and banisters.

My home is far from perfect.  It is damaged and flawed, there is nothing about it shiny and new anymore, but it tells the story of us.

I'll get around to replacing the missing glass door and patching the holes and painting over the evidence.  You know, in my free time....when I'm not busy being a mom.

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