We’ve been crashing at my parents for the past several days. My mom prides herself in a well kept home full of cozy handmade quilts and knick-knacks galore. Walking into the living room is like opening the pages of Country Home.

And then the five of us show up.

More specifically: my three children showed up.

The living room is now Hot Wheels headquarters. The family room is home to a whole city of transformers. Baby dolls and baby clothes litter the nooks and crannies of bedrooms and couches. Tiny Dixie cups from the bathroom are being used up at a rate Al Gore would find utterly appalling. Batman is on the couch. Voltron is over here; Ninja Turtles over there. And even as I write this a G.I. JOE helicopter is taking a nap in a baby carriage. Basically we’re leaving evidence of our stay everywhere we step.

Now I’m sure that underneath it all, this is driving my mother crazy. This is a regularly pristine house being marred by the life my three kids bring into the picture. However her attitude is great. I think she is simply thrilled that her grand-kids are here and enjoying their time at the house.

The mess is just part of the joy.

At least I’ll keep telling myself that.