They say that your bedroom should be a Sanctuary. It should be a haven of tranquility reserved only for relaxation and romance. There should be no TV, no piles of clothes and no kid’s stuff. Is that even possible when you have kids?
I’m writing this in my bed with half an eye on an episode of Alphas on the TV in the corner. My bed is full of biscuit crumbs dropped by E. Long gone are the crisp white bedclothes in favour of cheap duvet covers that i don’t mind being covered in anything from vomit to jam. Propped on the end of the bed are the V pillow I use to keep T upright while I feed him his breakfast in the mornings and a handful of his toys that rustle and jingle and start playing their tunes when I turn over in my sleep.
My bedside table does not play host to some flowers, an intellectually challenging paperback or a tasteful photo of me and Hubs. In reality it has two baby monitors, half a dozen of E’s stickers that I’ve peeled from the bed head, a red toy sports car and a mini Ben and Holly book. The floor has a row of cars, trains and planes which E has left lined up ready for a race in the morning. Tomorrow I know I will shout at least once before I’ve finished my first cup of tea ‘This is my bed, not a trampoline’.
It’s not a sanctuary, it’s chaos, but luckily I’ve got used to it and our bed is big enough for the four of us because I don’t think this is likely to change for a while.