My bedroom is my sanctuary. As I arrive home on any given night my bed is neatly made and is screaming my name. I can get into comfy pjs, a new pair of socks and be completely enveloped in this cozi-haven. I snuggle into the middle...it is my sweet slumber
Our bedroom is our sexy sanctuary. Two nightstands, two sides (albeit I don't get the middle anymore but love means compromise, right?) a love nest where we can come together at the end of our long work days and eat ice cream, watch a movie, or practice making babies.
Then practice became perfection (which as most know doesn't take as long in the sport of baby making) and the real babies arrived:
My sanctuary has now become the family bed. While our children do not sleep with us somehow, someway our room has become a catch all for every.person. in our family. Laundry, mail, spit up, diapers (yes, even the dirty ones) and all things child related have wound up in my once known as-sanctuary.
Present day-January 2012, 3.5 yrs of marriage, 1-2yr old and a 6 month old later:
When did this happen? How did this happen? (answer: all of the above) but seriously why can't the children have their space and I get my own? I mean they get the whole damn house. I, at one point, thought that I could have a house and have kids without people walking in and knowing kids live here (in hindsight I don't know if I even like this perspective...ponder this...back to reality). As a mom, I have voluntarily given up all the obvious things that non-moms know about i.e. sleep, body, modesty, eating privately in restaurants without people scowling at me with judgment; but then there is the list of things I didn't know about i.e. the ability to drink a glass of water without fingers in it, the privacy of going to the bathroom or taking a shower by myself, losing my hair *literally* due to hormones, and then my favorite my personal freedom of choosing my own scented fragramce and accessories (because for those of you who aren't aware, for the first 2 years you smell and look like baby vomit and breastmilk/formula, and if you are lucky) And you know truth be told I wouldn't trade any of it and on most days I don't complain about it. I can proudly where a vomit-scarf to work *uknowingly* (but really because I didnt realize it until I was walking into my office) But seriously, my bedroom?? Why that? I'm not fancy. I don't need spas or expensive lounges to relax I just want my nicely decorated and clean room with the comforter I purchased and the matching his/her sidetables to curl up into so that after I have fought hours of bedtime wars and cleaned a messy house and pumped my breasts for the 8th time, and worked all day... I can crawl into a made bed without having to clear it of your crap. And *your* refers to you darling baby # 1, adorable baby # 2 and you my loving husbandperson. All of you ARE guilty!
I don't want your mail, I don't want your stickers, take your empty bottles, and your dirty socks. Throw pillows are not dinosaurs and those fake flowers belong in my perfectly placed vase and NOT IN THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL! I'm drawing a line in the sand. This mom is re-claiming her right to her room! Get on board and get the picture or get LOCKED OUT! and yes, this applies to said husbandperson as well. If you would like to join the ranks of the grown ups then please remove your crap from where we lie, if not I have the address of a comfy couch I can refer you too! **Smooches**