The playroom that wasn’t, then was.
This room had a job, but it wasn’t doing it. Over time it had quietly become the place where everything else in the house landed: the unfinished projects, the things to deal with later, the stuff that didn’t have anywhere else to go. The kids technically had a playroom. They just couldn’t use it.
We cleared it out, found homes for everything that had taken over, and rebuilt the space around the people it was actually meant for. Now it has a spot for books, a spot for toys, and room to actually play. The kids have claimed it completely.
That’s the whole goal, every time.
Her Room, Her Rules
She met me at the door of her room and hesitated before opening it. I told her what I tell everyone: I’ve seen it all, and I’m not here to judge any of it. I’m just here to help.
Once we got started she didn’t stop. She had opinions about everything, which is exactly what you want. She knew which stuffed animals had earned their spot on the shelf and which ones she was ready to pass on. She knew what she wanted to be able to see every day and what could live in a drawer. She had things she wasn’t ready to let go of yet but wasn’t sure what to do with, and we figured that out too. There’s always a way to honor the stuff that matters without letting it take over.
By the time we were done, her room felt like hers in a way it hadn’t before. Not because it was perfect, but because every single decision had been made by the person who actually lives there. She did that. I just helped her see that she could.
Room to Breathe 