In our almost ten years of marriage, we've never had new furniture. We've had hand me downs, things found on the side of the road and Goodwill treasures. Our dining room table is new from Ikea and it was the cheapest, smallest one of the showroom floor.
Our bed is the only exception. I dreamed about this bed every time I strolled through World Market. When I was pregnant with Scout, we decided to splurge and buy the dream bed.
The master bedroom, with the natural light and whitewashed floors, was one of the main draws when we moved in to our house last year. I've tried and tried to declare our bedroom a kid free zone. Every time I find evidence of goldfish cracker crumbs on our white duvet or when I step on a lego that somehow ended up on our floor, I shout, "Out of mama's room!" But no matter how much it frustrates me when I find their shoes and books and stuffed animals in my bed, I just can't bring myself to enforce my own declaration. I kind of love it when they invade my space. I love Sunday mornings when all three of them make their way upstairs and end up piled in my bed. I love rolling over and finding one of them snuggled up beside me in the middle of the night. I love sick days with books and movies and snacks in bed.
One day, I'll get the big, white kid free bed. There will be plenty of time in the future for slow, easy mornings with breakfast in bed. So instead of kicking them out, I'll just brush the goldfish cracker crumbs in the floor and let them pile on in.