Sometimes when I look through magazines and blogs and see beautiful houses with organized rooms and clean spaces, I wish it was mine. But then I remember I have Van who is every bit of the terror two-year old you hear about. Then my thoughts turn to how much it bothers me that I can't have anything nice. Then I don't want anyone to have anything nice if I can't. Then I wish I could take Van to those houses and let him have his way with it.
I know, I am so bizarre.