The Journal of an Honest Mom

Six o’clock in the morning.

I wake up with a headache, so my husband tells me to stay in bed a little longer. He tells the boys they can play until Mom is ready to get up.

An hour later, I finally wander into the living room.

Only… there isn’t much of a living room left.

My kids haven’t just built a blanket fort.

They’ve built a blanket subdivision.

A king-sized blanket covers almost the entire floor. Three beanbags are holding up the roof. Their piggy bank has somehow become a structural support beam, clipped to the top so the blanket doesn’t cave in. My nursing pillow has been transformed into the front entrance.

Then I notice my baby’s toy.

It’s sticking out of the top of the fort.

Apparently it wasn’t a toy anymore. It had become a screw. The boys were walking around with their toy drill, pretending to tighten it into place while they “worked on the house.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

I may have a few future engineers living under my roof.

As I walked toward the kitchen, I stepped in something sticky.

Normally, that wouldn’t surprise me.

But it was seven o’clock in the morning.

I had mopped the night before.

How was the floor already sticky?

The answer is… I have no idea.

I didn’t ask.

Some questions are better left unanswered before breakfast.

I grabbed a rag, wiped it up, and carried on with my day.

Life around here is loud. It’s messy. It’s creative. It’s a little chaotic.

And honestly…

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

There were days when I prayed that God would bless us with a big family. We’re still on our way there, but every blanket fort, every mystery mess, every toy that somehow becomes a construction tool reminds me that He has already answered those prayers in so many ways.

The chaos is real.

The sticky floors are real.

The headaches are real.

But so is the joy.

And I wouldn’t trade this wonderfully crazy life for a quiet house.