A Room of Our Own

I'm certain that there is some sort of pseudo-psychology out there that addresses what sort of person you are based on the way you prioritize  your home. And if there isn't, there really should be. The people who landscape first are most certainly different from the ones who set up intricate sound systems. And there must be a difference between the people who focus on their kitchens and those who put their efforts into the rec room.

My sisters are bedroom people. It seems to me that all my sisters learned the art of setting up a bedroom from my mother. Their beds are floaty and luxurious. The rooms have the perfect amount of feminine touch without being cloying. They are rooms men can still feel comfortable in, even if the rooms are just a little sweeter and softer. Their bedrooms are beautiful, relaxing, serene.

I did not inherit this bedroom designing skill, or maybe my psychology is just different. Maybe I am not really a bedroom person (I feel like there should be a joke about my husband's disappointment, but I can't quite flesh it out so...) I have fully embraced the idea that bedrooms are supposed to serve very limited, very specific functions: sleep and one other thing.

I have always focused my attention on public spaces-- making my home as welcoming and inviting as I can for guests, even to the point of neglecting the private spaces. I hang my favorite pictures where they will be seen and admired. I vacuum the living room floor at least four times as often as the  bedrooms. If I am going to spend money, the money goes towards the people zones: new throw pillows, coffee table books, candles.

My bedroom is the room in the house that always feels the least finished, a hodgepodge of whatever is left, and I'm sort of sick of it. For my birthday I got a dreamy white bedspread and beveled edged mirrors. My parents are buying us antique dressers for Christmas, and I'm ready to replace the plastic mini-blinds that came with the house.

I think the fact that I want to change our bedroom is tied to my own psychology, a desire for a little more private life, a little less public. This pregnancy has  begged me for more solitude, more quiet time, more reflection. There have been times I have not felt like myself. My most typical self craves lots of people, lots of energy, lots of conversation. But these days, I'm spending a lot more time tucked away somewhere reading, listening to my children playing together in the yard from an open window. And for the first time, I want to room I share with my husband to be a place I can retreat and relax, rather than just stumble into late at night once all the kids are in bed and all the lights are turned out.

It's not there yet. It is still full of things that don't exactly spark joy. But I'm excited to make it better, make it ours, probably just in time for a new person to invade our sleeping space and constantly dirty our sheets.

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