Transients
With all of my interest in interior design, my quest to be at rest, comfortable in an aesthetically pleasing space, my fascination with dual purpose pieces and multi-functional furniture, you'd think that my house would be a perfectly designed and lovely haven. Not. Even. Close. I've given it some thought and it's the convertibility thing, I think. Everything is in a state of flux. Those who know me know my stock phrase, "it's in transition."
So it really shouldn't surprise me that each of my children have lived in my house as if they were transients. But it does.
We've been lucky enough to have rooms for each of the children from a very young age (it was tough sharing with the screaming Mimi for two year, for which I apologize to the Boss). Each room was carefully designed and decorated to delight, comfort, and provide a quiet space to work, think, or read. We painted murals on the walls, including integrated chalk boards, sewed canopies, curtains, and stuffed palm trees! I wanted these rooms to be my children's haven.
Apparently, they were only my idea of a child's haven. My children, however, chose -- each in his own way -- to treat their rooms more like an AMC tent platform/transfer station. From sleeping in a sleeping bag on the bed so he wouldn't have to make the bed (a request I gave up years ago), to hoarding things under her bed in case the candy-apocalypse should come, to having her own "if it smells okay, wear it" clothing-pile boutique, each child made her room her own.
As the last child is poised to head off to college, I've begun to wonder what I should do with the now three, not quite empty bedrooms. After a shake up in the room pairings, my other half has converted the smallest into the music room with great success. Both he and my youngest have spent hours and hours in there filling the house with music. But two rooms remain without purpose.
My immediate task is to change the boutique from the pile-it system to something more livable and inviting for when she brings home friends from college (again - my idea of what she needs), and the other into a real guest room, unoccupied by metaphorical candy wrappers. Once those transitions are completed, maybe I'll be bold enough to introduce that white damask duvet cover in my own restful haven.
So it really shouldn't surprise me that each of my children have lived in my house as if they were transients. But it does.
We've been lucky enough to have rooms for each of the children from a very young age (it was tough sharing with the screaming Mimi for two year, for which I apologize to the Boss). Each room was carefully designed and decorated to delight, comfort, and provide a quiet space to work, think, or read. We painted murals on the walls, including integrated chalk boards, sewed canopies, curtains, and stuffed palm trees! I wanted these rooms to be my children's haven.
Apparently, they were only my idea of a child's haven. My children, however, chose -- each in his own way -- to treat their rooms more like an AMC tent platform/transfer station. From sleeping in a sleeping bag on the bed so he wouldn't have to make the bed (a request I gave up years ago), to hoarding things under her bed in case the candy-apocalypse should come, to having her own "if it smells okay, wear it" clothing-pile boutique, each child made her room her own.
As the last child is poised to head off to college, I've begun to wonder what I should do with the now three, not quite empty bedrooms. After a shake up in the room pairings, my other half has converted the smallest into the music room with great success. Both he and my youngest have spent hours and hours in there filling the house with music. But two rooms remain without purpose.
My immediate task is to change the boutique from the pile-it system to something more livable and inviting for when she brings home friends from college (again - my idea of what she needs), and the other into a real guest room, unoccupied by metaphorical candy wrappers. Once those transitions are completed, maybe I'll be bold enough to introduce that white damask duvet cover in my own restful haven.
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