Their rooms, their way

Before I had my firstborn, I spent hours designing her nursery, poring over paint chips and Pinterest and themes. We bought new furniture (gasp!), ordered a Beatrix Potter mural for the wall, and drove all around town looking at rugs and curtains and lights (nine years ago guys – there were so many stores!). By the time our daughter arrived, her room was perfect.

Flash forward a month and there were diaper cream stains on the dresser, a laundry basket of unfolded clothes, and a diaper pail that filled so fast I swear we were emptying it twice a day. And yet still I tried to keep my vision alive, spending much of my nonexistent free time cleaning and rearranging.

But as time passed, keeping the room “perfect” became impossible. There were the books she’d pull off her shelf and stack next to the rocking chair. The stuffed animals she arranged on the floor just so. And the princess dresses she’d change in and out of all day, and leave – you guessed it – scattered around her room.

As my daughter grew, her room started to look a lot less like me and a lot more like her. And while I continued to clean it, I also found myself caring less about its aesthetics. Because I realized her bedroom wasn’t about indulging my Pinterest dreams, but about creating a safe haven where my daughter could just be herself.

Today all my kids rooms have lots of personality. Their artwork hangs from the walls along with notes from friends and posters from magazines. Their beds are a mismatch of superheros and sharks, koalas and gymnastics. Because we don’t live in a magazine, but a home where rugs get stained and walls covered in thumbtacks. Where I don’t want my kids to conform to my tastes, or Pinterest’s or anyone else’s. Where I want them to celebrate what makes them unique. 

And so I say ‘yes’ to their decorating and ask only that they keep their rooms clean. And sometimes help with the laundry.