Growing up I always shared a bedroom. We had two twin beds, a nightstand and one dresser. Her side was tidy, mine a mess. When we fought a line was drawn down the center of the room, which was problematic for the person without a door, but which never lasted too long. Especially if the doorless girl had to go to the bathroom.
When my older sister Heidi moved out, I had my own room for a year or so. I thought it would be heaven, but alas, sometimes it's nice to have a bed fellow. Like on Christmas eve and when you get home from a really good date. A girl needs to talk about things.
Now I, of course, share a room with Sugar Daddy and I can honestly say that I never, ever, want my own bedroom.
I finished my studio exactly one week before Henry was born. We didn't think we would be needing that last bedroom. When you make plans for your life, God laughs.
Henry's crib is in our bedroom. He's nearly six months old and he really should be in his own space. But oh how I love my room! I love to sit at my work bench in the late afternoon, when the sun streams in. The whole room glows a warm pale blue. I open the windows for the evening breeze and my butterfly chandelier rustles and sways. Everywhere I look there are things I love, things that inspire me. I keep a stash of chocolate and mint gum stowed away in the cabinet and it makes the whole room smell like a peppermint patty. I tell ya, it's my happy place.
Eventually, I am going to have to move my studio. We are talking about what we could do. The Boy's room isn't big enough for two beds. The Bird wouldn't sleep if Henry was in with her. We will need the last room.
After one has had a room of one's own, it's awfully hard to give it up. But maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to recreate my little utopia somewhere else.
Also, you should know that seven years ago today, my son Thomas was born. He looked like an old Jewish man. He only weighed five and half pounds. He was nothing like I had imagined but all that I had hoped for. Everyday he says something funny. Everyday he gives me a look that says, "I love you Mom." Everyday I fall in love with him just a little bit more.
Friday night is the birthday party. There will be hyper boys in pajamas. There will be video games. There will be shave ice. There will be potty humor.
And I couldn't be more happy about that.