A friend's baby spit up on our couch a little while ago. Amongst the mother's adamant apologies, I quickly assured her not to worry and that it was no big deal. I then shrugged and said, "We have a kid house." And it is true. Our house is a home for children. You will find very few delicate or fragile decorations in our home, and the few special knick-knacks that we do have are high up on a shelf. We don't have beautiful flowing drapes, or nice upholstery or even live plants. Instead we have extra panels for our patio door to replace the ones that get ripped off or bent out of shape every couple months, and our furniture is made of wipeable microfiber or draped with washable covers. Instead of beautiful adornments, you will find our house is embellished with toys. We have toys everywhere, toys in each of the boys' rooms, toys in the living room, toys in our backroom, toys in the office, toys in the kitchen and toys in the bathroom.
Our guest bedroom, which I decorated with pride and joy, now houses a big orange Mickey Mouse themed Halloween bucket holding the candy remains from past holidays. This monstrosity is in our lovely guest room, because when locked, it is the only place in the entire house that Palmer can not connive a way to get to. Believe me, I tried everything, locked up in a baby proofed cabinet and sitting atop the refrigerator. It did not matter where I put it, he found a way to weasel or climb his way into that bucket of coveted candy.
Thanks to Brody's little grabby hands, I often find magnets and little toys stored in my pots and pans. There is a bright, neon green mark, (one that has sustained itself through countless cleaners and washings) on one of our couches which appeared during Brody's hospital stay that I can only guess might be from playdough? Our walls, laundry baskets and tables often display my children's artistic talents. The kids are always in my make-up, jewelry and scrapbooking supplies. They have lost, damaged and out right broken so many of my things I can not even keep count.
Here is one case and point. Palmer came to me the other day bearing these marks.
Because of the iridescent silver colored mark, I instantly knew he had gotten into my stamp pads. I went to the office to investigate what else he had inked. Instead of a ink colored room, I found this - my fabulous, custom designed, and expensive if I might add, scrapbook desk had been ripped apart thanks to the ever-so-busy-hands of my two year old son.
So come one, come all. Bring your babies, your toddlers, your children. Our house is equip. We are child friendly, child ready. And we have absolutely no plans to purchase anything nice or new for the next several years.