“It’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s absolutely wonderful,” he said with a laugh. “If the dog isn’t barking, someone’s dribbling a basketball inside, or the little one’s trying to teach herself how to bake without supervision. But that’s what makes it home.”

Tyrus and his wife, Ingrid, are raising three teenage children from his earlier relationship, their daughter Georgie, and Ingrid’s two sons from her first marriage. The ages range from elementary school to mid-teens, and that spread alone keeps things lively. “One moment you’re explaining algebra homework, the next you’re teaching someone how to ride a bike, and then you’re refereeing who gets the TV remote,” Ingrid explained. “It’s like having a time machine in your own living room — you’re in every stage of parenting at once.”

Mornings are the busiest. Breakfast can feel like a short-order diner shift. Tyrus usually mans the griddle, flipping pancakes for some while frying eggs for others. “I wrestled in front of thousands, but nothing compares to the pressure of six hungry kids staring at you at 7 a.m.,” he joked. Then comes the great backpack shuffle — finding shoes, hunting for missing permission slips, and reminding everyone that brushing your teeth isn’t optional. Ingrid said she’s learned to keep a labeled basket for each child by the door. “It saves me at least three meltdowns a week,” she said. Evenings bring a different kind of chaos: homework, sports practices, music lessons, and sibling debates that can range from who stole the last cookie to whether pineapple belongs on pizza. Tyrus admits he sometimes channels his wrestling persona to restore order. “I’ll walk into the room, arms folded, and say, ‘Do I need to cut a promo on bedtime?’ They usually scatter,” he laughed.