Much of my life happens in my bedroom.
I know that "they" (whoever they are) say that you should reserve your bedroom for sleeping and relaxing only. It should be a sacred haven, a private getaway, that you associate with warmth and comfort and sweet slumber.
Yeah, those people don't have kids.
My bedroom is a playroom, a jungle gym, a movie theatre. It's a wrestling ring, a petting zoo and a parade ground. In every corner of the room there are toys and clothes, yarn and knitting needles. Yes, I have a TV and DVD in my room. A couple of years ago, when we switched from satellite to cable, I made the man run a cable to my room. That was the first time in years and years that I actually watched TV. I found awesome shows like River Monsters and the Dog Whisperer.
But life interfered and we stopped having cable (a blessing in disguise, really.) From there, our new obsession, Netflix came to visit and stayed. The kids know how to watch Dora, and every night before bed we have our movie time. We snuggle in bed together, sometimes with popcorn and watch old favorites, like Monsters Inc, and Flushed Away, or discover new treasures, like Pete's Dragon (thanks, Auntie Dawn!). Soon, little heads begin to nod, and we toddle everyone off to their own beds.
When the TV isn't on, we have blocks to build with, and a big bed to jump on. The closet is great for hiding in, when a game of hide and seek is in order. Laundry baskets in the corner are great for building cages for animals, or cars or sleds, or any number of things. Bastian will wrap himself in the blankets, so that he resembles a giant caterpillar, and hum with delight.
When someone is sick, it's into Mommy's bed they go. Our room will smell like eucalyptus and Mentholatum rub. The humidifier billows steam, and there are cups and plates everywhere, from the little treats, and cups of tea. Kleenex boxes are stacked 3 high. It's absolute chaos, but no one would rather be anyplace else.
We can see the sunrise through our bedroom window and the sun shines in all morning. We get nice breezes in the summer. In the middle of the night, it's into mommy's room everyone comes. They know just to climb over the nearest body and find the warm spot in the middle. The dog sleeps at the foot of the bed, the cat sleeps as close to our heads as we will allow. It isn't unheard of to have 6 warm bodies occupying the suddenly small queen size bed.
So, my bedroom is the heart of the house. I know for many, it's the kitchen. Not here.
My daughter, quite literally, was born in this room. In this bed. She was conceived in a clinic, so it seemed better for her to be born here. I laboured between my Grandma's cedar chest at the end of the bed and the old chest of drawers we got from her. She drew her first breath on my chest on my bed. I can remember the sights and sounds and feel of that night, and every time I close my eyes, I can transport myself there if I wish.
We have decided to re-do the bedroom. And silly me, I am a little worried.
I worry that I will miss the horrible "Grape Ape" purple that decorates my walls. I worry that the stain in the carpet from where Sebastian dropped the can of pop that exploded everywhere won't be there anymore. I worry that the little hand prints, dog nose prints, jelly fingerprints, crayon marks, mud stains and everything else that has land marked 8 years of my family's life will be gone and I will miss them so.
I know that it needs to be done. I really don't like the colour. I don't like the old lady border with gold and pink floral arcs. The curtains didn't match. There are smushed spiders in the corners. The plaster peeled away int he corner of the window where the air conditioning unit leaked one summer.
I can't wait to have new curtains, and a new closet. I want to steam clean the carpet or replace it. I want a new light, and bed side tables and head board. I am excited about the change.
But I cling to my past. And I will miss the blemishes and faults when they are gone.
My bedroom will still be the heart of our house. I know this. It will just have a shiny new finish.
Prime for some crayon art, that I am sure is soon to come.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "newness".