We recently had a friend of Abe’s over for the first time. As always in our house, play was loud and lively. They shot indoor basketball and Nerf guns. They snacked and crumbled. They took the cushions off the couch to build forts. And later used the cushions as trampolines to dunk the basketball.
When Friend’s mom came to pick Friend up, she seemed mortified to see the aftermath of pillows, blankets, and balls that spanned the floor. I figured this would be second-hat to her. After all, she has boys of her own. But she kept apologizing for the mess. I assured her my house looks like this every day. EVERY DAY. It had nothing to do with her son. And eventually The Dirties would have their chance to help clean the clutter.
A week later, I went to pick Abe up from Friend’s house. And I realized why my house haunted Friend’s mommy so. It looked like Pinterest had taken a giant crap on every entry-way, wall, table, and counter top. I was walking into a flipping DIY Museum of Contemporary Luxury. A Sanctuary of Complementary Color Palates. The large decorative glass balls. Really? The photo-less picture frames. The pin-striped walls. The WHITE furniture. Seriously, how is this possible? HOW. DOES. THIS. FREAKING. HAPPEN?
I’ve said before that in my experience with boys, houses get destroyed. I came home and took a good look at my own house and this is how it stacks up next to a Pinterest Palace:
So, I’m pretty sure my house won’t be featured in Better Homes & Gardens any time soon. But it is kid-friendly. It’s comfortable, safe…and no dump either. Just lacks a certain je ne sais quoi. And I don’t think twice when the boys plow a remote control monster truck into our crown molding. Or take everything out of our built-ins so they can hide in the cabinets. Because I have an entire lifetime ahead of me to create (or deal with) THAT kind of house. But only one to create a house where there are constant reminders of them every time I turn around. Or step on their Legos.