My house has turned into a daycare.

Early this morning I brought up two toys that we bought for Manny when he started to crawl, and pull himself up onto furniture. They are big pieces, but because we have no living room furniture, they will fit.

I cleaned the dust off them and sanitized them, and let the boys (yes, Manny wanted to play with them too) have at 'em. I took a step back and looked at my living room, and with a bit of sadness realized that my living space has turned into a daycare (not that daycares are bad, but when you don't run one, it's a bit funny to have your home look like one). Nearly every bit of perimeter of my living room has a toy occupying its space.

(Don't mind the laundry...)


While staring at my boys, and their toys, I was reminded about my life when John and I first met. Replace the numerous toys with people (plus 10), and that's what our house looked like.

We lived weekend to weekend. Each paycheck went to fund the party that we would attend on Saturday. We had the nastiest furniture, our kitchen cupboards were baron, and turntables were neatly tucked away in the corner of our living room.

It feels like a century ago that that was my life. Whooda thunk that six years later I'd be happily married with two beautiful/gorgeous/adorable little boys.