Our home is the heart of who we are. It is full of activity and love and noise and messiness. There is never a day when the dishes are done and the laundry put away. There is never a day when the dust doesn't cling to the furniture and the floors aren't sticky.
Our home is never quiet. Our home never organized. You certainly can't come to my house with Good Housekeeping and take pictures for your glossy, perfect magazine.
This is a house where boys play war around this old blue couch. You know, the same couch that my husband played around when he was a kid and has been passed onto us. We talk about replacing it. But, I love this couch. It's the couch that we all sit on with a big bowl of popcorn and don't mind when little fingers rub butter all over it. It's the couch that cradles my babies when they are sick and home with a fever. It's all I want in a couch. It's old. It's worn. It turns into a jungle gym and trampoline and I just smile because if it gets more stained and more broken....I will love it even more.
This is the floor that causes the clickety clack of high heeled shoes worn by my 2 year old. This two year old won't wear anything but a party dress and heels. Always a princess. Always a party to attend when you are at my house.
This is the laundry room that holds the laundry of 6 people. A sacred space where I stand and fold and hang and pray over each person as I put their things away. I love this picture because it shows the messiness of what we are. We are not perfect and with each load comes a prayer for guidance and protection and love. The satisfaction of all of it only comes as the last child leaves the house with clean shirts and socks As they head out into their day, I turn around and promise that I will clean up this space yet most days it doesn't get cleaned. And it's OK because I know my husband and children are headed out into their day with clean clothes and covered in prayers.
This is the kitchen where backpacks hang in a row as we do our nightly homework. We wrestle and fight over spelling words and math problems. We whine and complain as we start each problem. We dread each paper that comes home with all those red marks over it. My patience runs thin as I vow never to lose my temper again. I take a deep breath and ask the two year old for the 5th time to go back to my bedroom and finish her cartoons because she is not much help in the homework department. A struggle that is always blessed by working together and finishing a project and learning. A struggle that ends with memorized multiplication problems and better spelling.
Our home is never quiet. Our home never organized. You certainly can't come to my house with Good Housekeeping and take pictures for your glossy, perfect magazine.
This is a house where boys play war around this old blue couch. You know, the same couch that my husband played around when he was a kid and has been passed onto us. We talk about replacing it. But, I love this couch. It's the couch that we all sit on with a big bowl of popcorn and don't mind when little fingers rub butter all over it. It's the couch that cradles my babies when they are sick and home with a fever. It's all I want in a couch. It's old. It's worn. It turns into a jungle gym and trampoline and I just smile because if it gets more stained and more broken....I will love it even more.
This is the floor that causes the clickety clack of high heeled shoes worn by my 2 year old. This two year old won't wear anything but a party dress and heels. Always a princess. Always a party to attend when you are at my house.
This is the laundry room that holds the laundry of 6 people. A sacred space where I stand and fold and hang and pray over each person as I put their things away. I love this picture because it shows the messiness of what we are. We are not perfect and with each load comes a prayer for guidance and protection and love. The satisfaction of all of it only comes as the last child leaves the house with clean shirts and socks As they head out into their day, I turn around and promise that I will clean up this space yet most days it doesn't get cleaned. And it's OK because I know my husband and children are headed out into their day with clean clothes and covered in prayers.
This is the kitchen where backpacks hang in a row as we do our nightly homework. We wrestle and fight over spelling words and math problems. We whine and complain as we start each problem. We dread each paper that comes home with all those red marks over it. My patience runs thin as I vow never to lose my temper again. I take a deep breath and ask the two year old for the 5th time to go back to my bedroom and finish her cartoons because she is not much help in the homework department. A struggle that is always blessed by working together and finishing a project and learning. A struggle that ends with memorized multiplication problems and better spelling.
This is the 7th dinner I have cooked this week. Only 2 of the 4 children will eat it and the other two will whine and cry as I ask them to take a "no thank you" bite. It feels like a failure because I can't ever seem to please everyone and just when I decide that it's pizza every night with sodas and candy for desert....my husband walks in the kitchen and reminds the kids to thank me. At the same time, he reminds me that today I was a good mommy. Those words from him reassure me and I am filled with confidence again as I start planning the next days meals even before this one is finished.
Today, as I look around at all of these imperfect things I am so thankful. I keep waiting for the day when everything will be done and clean and there will not be a struggle. I have just decided that doesn't exist. What does exist are these moments that make us a family and these pictures that helps me never to forget.
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