Mr. Plum, with the candlestick, in the kitchen.

There aren't really any rooms in my house that I truly dislike.  I would love to do a little remodeling to our office.  I would love to update the master bath.  But as a whole, I honestly like my home.  It suits my family very well and I feel very blessed to call it my own.

If I had to pick my favorite room, however, I would definitely pick my kitchen.  Oh sure, I would love to rip down the floral border that the previous owners hung (which sounds way worse than it really is) and give the room a fresh coat of paint.  I would also like new window treatments if the funds were available.  But even those things truly don't bother me.  I don't come home from work each day, look around my kitchen and think, "Boy, this sucks."  On the contrary, I like it quite well. 

It's an eat-in kitchen with darker cabinets and faux granite countertops.  The tile backsplash wraps around the entire kitchen while an island sits squarely in the middle of the room.  The island comfortably sits two and has ample storage underneath where I stow pots and pans and baking dishes.  Our table (which may be too large for the space, although I like it quite nicely) and chairs sits beside the kitchen area.  Because the table is so large, the hanging light above it doesn't hang directly in the middle of the table.  It actually hangs mostly over Little Mama as we eat dinner each night.  Yes, the physical features of the kitchen are nice.  Plenty of storage, plenty of countertop space, a large sink, island, table, etc, etc. 

The best part about my kitchen?  The memories that we've made there.

Other than the hours that we sleep in our beds, we do most of our living in the kitchen.  When I walk in the door from work at night, the girls are usually hanging out there.  On most nights, I'll find Little Mama doing homework and Baby Angel coloring at the island.  We have sat at that island for countless hours, working on school projects, checking over homework, proofing research papers, practicing spelling words....Dear God, the number of hours we've practiced spelling words at that island. 

We've made dozens upon dozens of cookies in the oven.  The countertops have withstood the girls climbing on them to reach their favorite water bottles from the back of the cabinet ump-teen million times.  We've whipped up numerous batches of hummingbird nectar at the stove. 

The table though is where it's at for our family.  Rarely do we skip eating a meal together.  Oh sure there are nights when Jas works late and can't join us or I'm off at a conference in another state.  But most nights, we eat a nutritious meal together as a family (and share our highs and lows from the day!). 

Other than meals and the occasional homework assignment that's not completed at the island, we play lots and lots and lots of games there!  We're on a big "Clue" kick right now (hence the title of this entry), but we've played our fair share of Uno Attack, Trivial Pursuit (the kid edition), Solitaire, Spit (a card game I learned as a kid), Trouble, Mancala, and Dominos at that table.  A comprehensive list of all games played on that large piece of wood would be nearly impossible for me.  We are definitely game playin' fools in this household.

Ah, that table and chairs.  They were a gift to me from my in-laws when I graduated with my masters.  I've only had them for about a year and a half and until recently, I would freak the freak out when a new scratch or dent would appear.  I'm not sure why I've chilled out about it these past few months, but now, I don't mind those scratches.  In fact, when I Pledge it each weekend, I actually smile as I wipe my rag over its kid-made flaws.  All of them hold a memory for me and they remind me that all too soon my babies will be gone.  I suddenly found that scolding my babies for scratching a piece of wood did nothing to enhance my happiness in life.  In fact, I realized that by doing so, I was placing more value on a piece of wood than I was on my own children.  So now I smile when I see the 1,492 scratches on Baby Angel's side of the table, each made because she just.can't.sit.still.during.meals.  The little speck of nail polish that refuses to leave reminds me of all the manicures and pedicures we have given one another.  In my mind's eye, I will forever see Little Mama flinging her backpack on to the table when I spy that super deep scratch on the corner.

Oh, dear friends, we've made a trillion and one memories in our kitchen and we've only lived here for 1 year and 8 months!  The physical features of the kitchen will become marred.  Faucets will start to leak, microwaves will short out, and tile floors will get scuffed.  But as corny as it sounds, the memories made within the walls of one's home will shine brighter with each passing day.