Let's just say, my house probably won't be clean when you come visit. The trash can might be sticky. There might be crayons on the floor and cheerios in the corner. There will probably be a pile of laundry in my bedroom. There might be cobwebs by the porch and a stroller parked on the doormat, and I won't even mention the condition of my van.
But we laugh. A lot. And I try to cook dinner. And the girls run around in their underwear or make water messes. And we laugh, most of the day. And in 20 years, I'll be a happy, laughy woman with a [finally] clean house, who will still be very blessed.