If You Came By My House Today.......

Sweet precious crafty Kellie over at La Vida Dulce is hosting a bloggy carnival, and I love a good party. 

I'm also intrigued by the fried butter that is supposedly the new rage at state fairs these days, but I don't know that Kellie's carnival is sportin' fried lard.  And it isn't that I want to try fried butter...I am just wondering about the person that decided one day that it was a good idea to dip a tablespoon of Country Crock in batter and plop it in the fry daddy.  Next it will be fried jelly.  Or fried syrup.  Or fried mustard.  You know...as long as we are going for condiments.  But I digress...

Kellie provided us with a writing prompt.  And as a former English teacher, this concept excites me to no end.  So I'm gladly playing along......which meant that we were to complete this sentence starter.....

If you came to my house today......

Now, first of all, this terrifies me.  Because I am NOT a fan of the drop-in guest.  Uninvited and unexpected visitors literally make me shake and usually lead to me hurrying the children to the back of the house, shushing them, and playing the very fun childhood game "Duck and Hide From the People Ringing the Doorbell."  You think I'm kidding. 

But because I like you, I'll let you in....today.

And what you would find would be a VERY lived in house.  Excuse me.  A very lived in HOME.

The slipcover is off the couch and is draped over four dining room chairs.  It has been a fort.  And a castle.  A jungle.  And, most recently, a veterinarian clinic.

The couch cushions are off of that same couch and are piled up in Mt. Everest fashion. 

There is a strange aroma wafting from the shoe shelf.....it smells of boy. 

There are cereal bowls in my sink.  From two days ago.

There is a carpet of laundry in my laundry room.  I counted them up the other day, and to be completely caught up on every stitch of clothing/laundry that needs to be washed would mean doing 17 loads.  17!  Guess what??  It's not happening.  So the carpet of laundry will stay.

There are piles of toys in Sawyer and Tate's room that are a hodgepodge of army men, action figures, and HotWheels.  The piles are stuffed under the bed and in the corners....as if they are invisible to mother's eyes on the last "Clean Your Room" tirade. 

There are stacks of folded laundry piled in the floor of my room.  I can fold.  But I can't seem to put it away.  It truly is sad when the children come first to my floor to look for clean undies instead of their drawers. 

The vacuum cleaner is sitting in the hallway.  Waiting to be used.  Or put away.  Or to be invited into the living room to help hold up a part of the fort. 

School books are sitting on the table.  Because we didn't put them away.

The boys' bathroom smells of stank.  And looks as though the children have missed every attempt of actually hitting their target which is the toilet.  It is gross.  And unsanitary.  And I continue to just resolve to not.go.in.there.

And I could go on. And on. And on.

Because our house is rarely clean. 

It is full of forts, and roads made of DVD cases, and strewn legos, and pillow towers, and soccer played in the hallway, and fishstick crumbs under the table.

Because it is lived in. 

But maybe more importantly....our home is LOVED in.

****Thanks, Kellie, for hosting!  Head over to her place to find out what is going on in everyone's cribs today!!**