Kiddie Decor

I have been sick.  Yes, I have gotten colds and been a lovely cranky mess.  Yes, I have had a tummy bug and yakked five pounds out.  But this has really beaten me down.  An acute sinus infection that set up shop in my ears, throat and eye orbits.  I was told the built up mucus was distorting my eyeball.  And here I thought random blurry vision was due to the boy gas that is rampant in my house.
Now that I am feeling human, and can swallow without feeling as if I took up sword swallowing, I noticed ....my house is a wreck!
Granted, when Mama is sick things grind to a screeching halt and survival is at a premium.  But I look past the basics of "mommy no feel good".  Yes, towels on the floors and toothpaste art in the sinks.
There is a certain look to my house.  A look that other moms must recognize.
You see, at any given time, no matter how "clean" (and I use that term to mean disinfected) my house is, there is no doubt that kids live here.  When I clean, I don't look to eradicate the kid evidence, just keep Haz Mat at bay.
But it dawned on me as my troop of noise buckets took off for school (God bless a carpool), that there was every evidence that not only did children live in this house, happy children live in this house.  It is all in the kiddie decor.
The laundry room has the usual clutter, including a ball pump and an incubator with chicken and duck eggs.  The latter being a 4-H project my daughter has embarked on. (guess who gets to help)
Going into the kitchen, the evidence of my juvenile decorating is even more pronounced.  Matchbox cars on the table.  Child art everywhere. (I feel like such a schmuck if I throw any away!).  A corner of the kitchen is designated "art land" and it overflows with ribbon and crayons in a trail of creativity.  The latest basketball schedule is on the counted, along with graded papers that have to oohed and awed over.
Soccer pictures, school candids and more artwork is on the fridge, along with a postcard of Hogwarts Castle, as Conner still thinks he might get a letter when he turns eleven.
On the counter are a handful of oranges that someone didn't eat in their lunch.  Stray socks clutter a corner of the family room, where a dvd case is flipped halfway through.  Obviously a child flipped through their collection and somehow forgot (really?) to put them back.
A tangle of blankets on the couch shows were we snuggled last night to watch American Pickers.  A cluster of light sabers and plastic rifles shows the lookout post that kept watch, protecting me from rogue clone warriors.
The little bits are everywhere.  Even if I had no pictures of my children (snort snort, laugh laugh) it would be obvious that not only do children live here, children are loved here.

And how was your day?