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Time to Invest in Our Own Space: A New Peaceful Bedroom

March 31, 2016 By Kelle

I’m partnering with SLEEP NUMBER® this year to talk about Family & Rest in our home. They are sponsoring a series of posts including this one, and I’m excited to dig in to one of the biggest challenges in parenthood…sleep.

Considering I’m fresh off a full week of flu in our family and repeated awakenings from all the crying children, you should know that I am so legit when I talk about the importance of rest right now. Rest has teetered many times in a highly dangerous position in our Family Priorities Jenga game, but it’s been repositioned to the bottom where it’s solid and holds everything up.

I wrote a post earlier last year about rest and all these special things we can do to value it–like spritz our pillows with eucalyptus and lavender and keep our bedroom a sanctuary and take the time to slip into nice pajamas before bed. I don’t necessarily get an A+ on adhering to everything in that post, but when I go back and read it, it makes me want to get an A+. I accepted the invitation to expand this into a series of posts with SLEEP NUMBER® because the challenge of restoring our rest habits and creatively exploring what a well-rested family means for us would be really good for us, and I knew without a doubt where this series would begin…in our bedroom.

When it comes to spending money on our home, our bedroom has been the last priority. Spend it on the kids! Their rooms are fun! Their rooms don’t cost as much! Besides, our bedroom has kind of turned into the throw hole. People coming over? Don’t know what to do with those cords/socks/basket of weird stuff/papers you never signed and have no intention of turning in anyway/attachment to the vacuum that broke off and Lord knows you’re never going to fix it? Why, hide it all in the bedroom, of course!

Our bedroom hasn’t been touched in a very long time, and while I have loved my big statement headboard (over 10 years old), it’s big and dark and echos what our room has been feeling lately–dark and messy and not someplace that says love and comfort and peace. We are thankful we aren’t sleeping on boards in a hut, yes. But we also knew it was time to admit that we are the foundation of this family and our home, and our room should be a place we can retreat to replenish and rest. We cannot expect our kids to create positive spaces if the one place Mom and Dad call their own is a hot mess. So over the past couple of months, we’ve taken everything out of our room and rebuilt our space focusing on comfort, peace and things that make us happy. There are some old things, new things, inexpensive things, splurge things, sentimental things, cozy things, things we made–all combined to create something we really really love now. A place of rest.

Before I get into the details of the room, we sleep more than anything else in this room and are committed to getting the best sleep possible. Our new SLEEP NUMBER® bed is the foundation of our new comfort goals. And they don’t mess around with sleep. In fact, when Brett and I went to try new beds and pick out our favorite one, we got a full sleep assessment–like Mission Impossible computer evaluation and all these pressure points on our back identified and mattress adjustments made that fit our personal needs. I like my mattress a little softer, Brett likes his a little firmer–we both get what we want. And we love the results. Our bed no longer says, “Shut up and go to sleep,” It says, “I bet you had a hard day. You’re important. Shhhh….close your eyes.” Okay that was a little creepy, SLEEP NUMBER® beds don’t talk. But if they did, I bet they’d sound like Norah Jones singing you a lullaby. They do have brains though–little technological brains called Sleep IQ ™ technology buried in the mattresses. Sleep IQ technology collects information about your movements, when you get up, average breathing and heart rate, what time you hit the hay–and it calculates that information to help you monitor your sleep habits. Brilliant, huh?

Finally, we paid a little attention to our own important needs: our new space of comfort and rest.

We tore out our awful dirty carpet and had wood laminate installed. My dad and I built the headboard together with old maple flooring our neighbor gave us. Every time I look at this headboard, I think about that afternoon my dad and I shared together, making it. He had blood running down his leg from a nail that got him–he never even told me. We’re still waiting for legs to arrive to hoist the bed up.

My other favorite thing about this room is the photo above the bed. In fact, it’s the first thing I planned in this room and everything–the colors, the textures–was built around it. It’s a slide I found in my grandpa’s slide box–a photo of my grandparents’ first Airstrem trailer and their car in the mountains on one of their trips. I had LegacyBox transfer it into a digital file and framed it with Framebridge.

This new space and our commitment to more comfort has already created such a healthy shift–I can’t wait to see what follows.

And thank you to SLEEP NUMBER® for sponsoring this post, creating some good momentum we needed and for supporting our goals to be a healthy not-freaking-out-because-we’re-so-tired-and-crabby family.

A Room for a Boy, A DIY Project for a Girl

January 11, 2016 By Kelle

As our family and children’s personalities have grown and changed over the years, we’ve switched up our kid spaces many times, mostly for practical reasons (new baby, the need for an office, changing sleep habits), but also just for fun (creative itch, changing kid interests). There are lots of spaces in our home that make me happy, but my kids’ rooms have always been places where I especially love to nest, the ultimate goal this cozy vision of tucking them in at night amid warmth and comfort and all the little things that say “You are loved” and feeling like these little spaces are colorful reflections of each child. It also helps if toys and books and all their little treasures have a place so that rooms stay somewhat orderly.

Dash’s space was in limbo for a while as we knew he wasn’t going to be in a crib much longer and we’d eventually switch things around when the girls got bunk beds. This room that once was an office and then Lainey’s nursery has been a pink baby/toddler sister room for Lainey and Nella, a shared baby/toddler room for Nella and Dash, a shared big kid sister room for Lainey and Nella and now, finally, Dash’s boy cave. I love the outcome.

Using mostly what we have allows us to switch things up. Instead of all new bedding or furniture, we save a lot of money by switching less expensive things that still add a lot of character–pictures on the wall, a coat of paint on an end table, a little D.I.Y. project and new sheets.

The D.I.Y. project in this room is the peg board on the wall, something I’ve been wanting to install for a while. Total cost with paint, peg board and materials was around $40.

What I love about it:

1) Display. It goes all the way to the ceiling, breaking up the wall a bit bit yet still keeping the large open feel to the room. I’m no minimalist and have a hard time deciding what stuff gets displayed and what doesn’t–I love it all! There’s no way I could have displayed all these beloved treasures with no peg board and maintained any kind of order. Containing it all to the pegboard creates an organized display that not only has character but functions as an extra place to put things. Which brings me to….

2) Extra Storage! I can hang hats, toys, pictures, kid art, etc. We can also easily create a few small shelves here later if we want to add more storage.

3) Changeability. We love to switch things around a lot, and now we can do it without hammering more nails into the wall. Simple move a peg, slip in another hook and Voila!

I’d also love to ~~brag~~ report that this pegboard work is all mine, no help. I’m all for a good D.I.Y. when it comes to glue guns and paint brushes, but power tools and accurate measurements? I’m out. Which is why I asked my dad and Brett to help me with this one. Thing is, I got tired of waiting and, like many other projects in my brain, wanted it done yesterday. So I girl powered through this one and found myself in the lumber aisle of Home Depot, feeling like a complete fraud, but doing my best to pull off Legit Home Improvement Lady by myself. I only felt like an ass once when I pointed out the pegboard sheet to the burly guy in the lumber area and asked, “Think this will fit in my minivan?” And he answered, “I don’t know, M’am. I’ve never seen your minivan.” So I winged it. Loaded this thing out on a little scooty cart, only crashing into a curb twice. And then? Delivered a 15-minute free comedy performance to the people of the Home Depot parking lot which, might I add, none of whom offered to help. Don’t ever underestimate the weight or awkwardness of an 8-ft. sheet of pegboard. Just ask my bloody shins or the cut between my thumb and forefinger or maybe my ass as it was hanging outside the end of my van while I hoisted this thing up enough to clear the back seat head rests. Ask the man in the truck two parking spots over who watched while I ran back and forth–side seat, back seat, front seat, side seat–pushing, pulling, lifting, cursing, wedging, pleading the girl power gods to please let something loose so I could at least say I bought a piece of pegboard by myself and carried it home. I called Heidi TWICE from the parking lot with a “Sweet Jesus, so help me God if you don’t have to come up here and help me shove this mother $#&er in this van so I can get it home without Brett telling me, ‘I told you to wait for me.'” Let me tell you this: the girl power gods are alive and well. We cleared the head rests. We shut the door. We brushed the blood off our shins and we drove home with 180 degrees of blind spot, singing GLORY BE. We spread drop cloths out on the driveway and had this thing painted before Brett could say LUNCH BREAK. And when he got home that evening? He just smiled. Nothing else because he knows and I know and we all know how this story ends. This pegboard is going up on the wall tonight and it might be crooked and it might be a little jagged and it might have some blood germs on it, but I’ll be damned, this project is getting done. NOW.

I’ll admit, I took his help for one little thing–I needed an extra hand to hold the board when I used the electric saw (NOTE: I USED AN ELECTRIC SAW), and I needed an extra hand to hoist the board when I screwed it into the wall with a power drill (NOTE: I SCREWED THIS SUCKER TO THE WALL WITH A POWER DRILL). Also and perhaps most important, I used a stud finder. Like took the time to borrow one from the neighbor and put batteries in it and actually read the directions on how to use it. And measured where to put the screws instead of drilling holes all over the wall on the off chance it might land a good spot. I’m LEGIT HOME IMPROVEMENT LADY now who does things the proper way!! (For how to install a pegboard, follow these perfect and easy directions). The bottom is only a teeny tiny bit crooked, but I will proudly point that out to my kids with a “Your mama is imperfect, but she tries!” And when it was all said and done, Brett loved it too.

Moose Head Wall Hanging, Rainbow Trout, White-Tailed Deer, Black Bear

My favorite thing on here: the teeniest tiniest pair of red Keds from when Dash wasn’t 8-feet tall and didn’t have Michael Jordan feet.

And without a crib, we now have the loveliest space for play and cubbies for all the toys. Nothing new bought here–just gathered some crates and baskets together.

Sheets, Discover Pillow

I dug up an old white matelasse coverlet we already had and added the sweetest camp badge sheets from Land of Nod.

I think sheets and pajamas are my favorite thing to buy for my kids. If you’re budgeting for new bedding, get a white, versatile comforter. You can change the entire look of the bed over the years without switching the comforter by getting new sheets, adding a blanket, changing a toss pillow. I love these sheets so much. They match my wild and adventurous boy and with the soft edges of the bed frame, it’s a perfect mix.

The black and white stripe blanket is an IKEA throw.

Wall Color: Behr Opal Cream, Pegboard Color: Behr Durango Blue

It’s Dash’s pad, but all the spaces of our home belong to all of us, and we often find ourselves piled up–the entire family–on this bed. Feels refreshing to have some new creative flavor in this room and space carved out for his next boyhood adventures. Not to mention some girl power under my belt…oh the places this power drill will take me!

Going Home, Coming Home

December 10, 2015 By Kelle

I flew home to Michigan early this week to celebrate my dad’s retirement party and flew home last night, truly full after some heavy family time and all the Christmassy things we packed into a few short days. As evidenced: my dad and Gary picked me up from the airport wearing Santa hats and had another one waiting for me in the car. We pretty much just rode a virtual sleigh for the rest of the week.

Also, this is what “Act Normal” looks like for us:

After my initial Oh-my-God, I’m-in-a-box-that’s-flying-through-the-sky-and-held-up-by-nothing-but-some-opposite-forces observation/panic that begins all of my flights home, I went into the familiar reflection that the space in the sky between two homes provides. I’ve been there many times before, mentally transitioning between going home to be a daughter and coming home to be a mother; feeling small and safe and protected at the same time I feel large, the safe place, the protector.

Seated on the plane, I fished through my purse to find a pen and smiled when I pulled out the one my dad let me use the other day—the one he retrieved from the inside pocket of his sport jacket and handed to me, like he’s done many times, with, “Always have a good pen on you, Kelle. I always have two. And don’t settle for those cheap things.” In our family, we talk about pen types like car models. This one was a Pilot Precise Rolling Ball—V7 to be exact. Glides nice. Thin tip but good distribution of ink. I opened my journal and wrote a few memories I wanted to remember from the week. Falling asleep next to the fire with my siblings in the same room. Feeling the cold wind behind me from the sliding glass door I purposely left open while I wrapped up tighter in the electric blanket, the same one I used through winters when I was in college. Sipping drinks around the table at my favorite restaurant on Main Street, telling stories about our childhood, remembering my grandparents, watching my dad pull out his credit card and hand it to the waitress with a proud “I got this” as if the simple act of paying for his kids’ meals gave him a good surge of that protector/safe place/largeness that parenthood grants. And yet I saw just moments earlier—when we were talking about his mom—the need to be held up, to belong to someone, that never really goes away.

I heard a lot of stories this week. At my dad’s retirement party, friends he’s worked with over the years, patients whose hands he’s held through losing loved ones and family who drove in special to celebrate, all shared stories about the last thirty years since he started his job. “I wanted to tell you how I met your dad,” one woman explained to me, her eyes already pooling with tears. “Many years ago, I was here in the hospital and had just received some really sad news. I was making my way through the main hallway back to my car, and everything suddenly overwhelmed me. My knees buckled and I started to fall to the ground, but someone caught me. Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed my elbow and lifted me up. I turned around, and there was your dad–a complete stranger. He lifted me up that day, he helped me, and I came back to volunteer for him here later. I just thought you should know that.”

In a way, I already did.

Whether it’s holiday nostalgia or the evaluation of where we are and where we’re going at the end of the year, I think a lot about belonging this time of year. I want my kids to feel a strong sense of home, of belonging to this family and being loved by us. I cozy up everything—hang twinkle lights, play music, tuck them in at night with winter poems. Bake cookies, keep traditions, watch movies snuggled into the couch with blankets, searing memories into my own minds as well as theirs. At the same time, I feel my own needs to belong—I miss my family back home, I want my mom’s cinnamon rolls, I remember what it feels like to fall asleep with new pajamas, snuggled in bed with my brother and sister, waiting for the magic the next morning will bring. I think about what this all means—the holiday, the things I used to believe, the things I believe now. Who do we really belong to? I feel strong and secure in my uncertainty, in the openness of all the possibilities and yet this time of year, sometimes I miss the ceiling and walls of the church where I felt scared/confined/judged but also quiet/inspired, especially when no one talked, when candles were lit on Christmas Eve and the flicker of lights would dance on the stained glass windows. Where I could close my eyes and listen to the choir sing “Silent Night” and for a moment feel like I completely belonged…to what, I don’t know, but I felt it. I feel sad especially this time of year for the people who don’t feel a place of belonging, and in my own little holiday quest to make my children feel warmth, to find my own warmth, I try and let that sadness seep in—to teach it to my kids—because it’s important.

(My brother and I picked out this house–the one at the top of the hill, with the fire crackling inside. This one’s home.)

I let it all seep in last night, while I temporarily belonged to the middle space of clouds and dark sky lit only by the tiny blinking lights of the plane’s wing. The woman in the seat next to me could have easily been my grandma—late 70’s probably, her white hair brushed and sprayed into a perfect round fluff like the top of a cotton candy cone; her hands, like my grandma’s, maps to where she’s been—lots of wrinkles, faded brown spots and large purple veins that run like rivers from her fingers to her wrist. I was too tired to talk, but I looked over nosily at the Woman’s Day magazine she was intently reading, the open spread full of holiday recipes and craft how-to’s: Spiced Cider, Scented Sachets, Cozy Mug Cuffs. She dog-eared the page, and I fist-bumped her in my mind for her holiday spirit before trying to figure out which of the three ungodly sleep-on-a-plane positions I’d attempt (weird side curl, crooked neck hunch or seat tray head drop). I opted for the latter, opened my tray table and hunched over it, stuffing my scarf between my head and my crossed arms. I didn’t think I’d stay there long but found myself waking up, what had it been—30, 40 minutes later?—opening my eyes to the horror that I had slumped over and was resting the entire weight of my head in the woman’s lap. Embarrassed, I slowly resurrected, yawned and tried to play it off. “Sorry, guess I was more tired than I realized,” I quipped.

She smiled a smile I’ve been lucky to see many times in my life. “I was holding you up,” she answered.

There’s so much to belong to, there’s more than one thing holding us up. The forces of flight, the people we love, the stranger next to us who shows up out of nowhere and lifts us, the stranger next to us who needs us to show up and lift her. We belong to all of them.

The wheels of the plane found the ground, the rumble of the landing quieted, and I pulled out my phone to text my dad:

Landed. I’m home.