A maze of bags and shoes block the doorway, 

Toys sprawl out of the toddler’s room and into the entryway

Three warm and rambunctious bodies propel into me as I enter the house,

Shouts of joys deafening and in unison

The dog knocks one over, and the joy quickly turns to wails of indignation.

Not really hurt, just upset that their pride was dinged, 

that their bold shouts of homecoming welcome  interrupted.

It smells a little funny in here, but quickly that dissipates as my nose acclimatizes to a place with small kids and pets.

Items litter the counters and the floor and the incessant sound of paw patrol fills the air

I can sing it in my sleep

Demanding to “play up at the table” means painting and crayons

I watch as they sort of share their implements, becoming bored and moving on in minutes,

Quickly to the next activity

I know the upstairs is full of baskets overflowing with laundry to fold and put away (four, in fact) and the sink in the girls room is covered with toothpaste again.

I can’t wait to put them to bed, but at the same time the mess and the noise fills my heart

Home is where the family is