The mess

My house is a mess. It was cluttered before the children got here but now it's a mess. I watch TV and see these ideas of what a home is supposed to look like and I know what I would like my home to look like. Well it's just not going to happen. In order for the house to remain clean you would have to do something about the children, meaning that they are not allowed to play with their toys or art supplies or games or really anything that defines them as children. I don't know what any other parents with young children much less triplets have going on in their home but mine is awash with the destructive wake of children.

I have crayon and marker marks on every possible surface. walls, floor, tables, cabinets, each of the children. There are cars and little toys along ever baseboard as well as in the couches and chairs. There is copious amounts of kid art plastered all over the kitchen. If you were to look around you may find perler beads, broken crayons, broken toys, stickers, scraps of paper and clothing.

The stickers are the worst though. There are stickers everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I have even found them under tables and chairs. There are stickers on the floor and walls and in children's hair. I find them in my clothes in the washer and dryer on dishes and the dogs. I rue the day that stickers ever came into my house.

I do my best to keep the house organized and tidy but the truth of the matter is you can only cry so many times after had mopping the entire kitchen to only have a child spill apple juice the length and breadth of the floor in the two minutes it took you to go to the bathroom. It's these little moments that when asked by some knuckle dragging man child why don't I get a job I am filled with the fury of a thousand suns and I have to just walk away. I have accepted that I am no stepford husband.