My House Looks Like a Toy Store Exploded (And I’m Okay With It)

Sometimes my house looks like a toy store exploded in here. There are toys under the couch, a rocking horse in the middle of the living room, a doll without her original clothes on the dining room table (still not sure what happened there), and Legos scattered across the floor like booby traps.

I used to think I’d be the kind of mom who always kept things tidy. You know… high end decor and dishes, floors mopped, kids maybe a candle burning while soft music played.

And then I had kids.

Now, my soundtrack consists of Gracie's Corner and Danny Go. I'm organizing books and picking up toys 2-3 times a day and all my dishes are silicon or plastic.

For a while, I looked at the mess and thought, I have to clean this up again. The again part felt heavy. But lately, I’ve been learning to flip my perspective, mostly for my own sanity but also because I'm really starting to see Jesus in all the things. Now I whisper, I get to clean this up again. It’s a subtle shift, but it’s everything. Because one day, and I know this in my bones, the toys won’t be here.

A Heritage in the Mess

The Bible says in Psalm 127:3,

“Children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.”

Heritage. Reward. Those aren’t small words. They’re holy words.

When I really stop and think about it, the mess isn’t just clutter, it’s evidence. Evidence that my children are here, growing, playing, imagining, leaving little fingerprints on the story of our home. Evidence that God has trusted me, a whole mess myself, with these tiny little people. It's a privilege.

A spotless house usually means no children are there to mess it up. A perfectly organized living room might photograph well, but it can’t tell the stories a messy one can. The blocks on the floor tell me there was a a tower built here today. The baby doll on the floor means my toddler was mimicking me and caring for her own baby. The cup rings and the sticky on the table means someone had a good lunch.

The Toys Won’t Be Here Forever

It hits me sometimes. Usually late at night when the house is finally still, it hits me that I won’t always be tripping over dolls and stepping on Legos. One day, I’ll wake up and the living room will be tidy… and quiet. No stuffed animals lined up for “school.” No requests for a dance party in the living room. No sticky cups on the counter.

And here’s the part that gets me: I will miss it. I will miss the chaos that I once felt overwhelmed by.

Motherhood has taught me that blessings aren’t always wrapped in pretty bows. Sometimes they look like laundry piles, cookie crumbs, and a sink full of sippy cups. When I choose to see it this way, the mess feels less like a burden and more like a bouquet of everyday graces God tucked into my home.

Gratitude Over Grumbling

I won’t pretend I never get overwhelmed or frustrated. I’m still human. I’d love a clean living room and five minutes of silence just as much as the next mom. But I’m learning to catch myself. To breathe. To see the toys, not as something in my way, but as something for me to be thankful for. Because they are proof that my kids are still small enough to leave them behind for me to find.

One day, the toy store will close. The living room will be clean. The floors will be safe to walk barefoot without fear of Legos. And I’ll wish I could go back to today, just for a little while, to trip over the toys and scoop them into baskets. So today, as I pick up the dolls and blocks for the hundredth time, I’ll thank God for the privilege of being the one who gets to do it.

Because in this season, the mess is proof of life .And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. If your house looks like a toy store exploded, maybe it’s just a sign that you’re right in the middle of the good stuff.

xx

Santa Naisha