I thrive in tidy environments and prefer uncluttered surfaces. My minimalist tendencies usually keep me sane—until I step into a shoe store, of course! Too much stuff around me can send me spiraling into chaos. My kids understand that they need to clean up after themselves, or else I might take matters into my own hands. This sometimes means that if their candy is left scattered on the counter for days after I’ve asked them to tidy up, Mama might just toss it in the trash. I wish I could see the messes as something other than chaos, but alas, I find it hard to overlook the disarray. However, I do have one exception: their bedrooms.
When I recently ventured into my son’s room, I was greeted by six beakers filled with “secret potions” he created months ago—some even sprouting a mysterious growth. Gross? Maybe. But when he said, “Please don’t touch it; this is what was supposed to happen,” I couldn’t help but appreciate his enthusiasm. I leave his little science experiment alone because seeing him so engaged in his world is priceless. His solar flower spins in the sun along with a lineup of solar cars, and Legos are artistically arranged in one corner. His space is a sanctuary for epic blanket forts, and I want to preserve that magic. The dead dandelions in a vase are part of his wish-making ritual, and I respect that too.
My daughter’s room is no less enchanting. I won’t disturb her rock collection or her proud display of perfume bottles. Her four favorite baby blankets are strewn across her bed and floor, where she lovingly wraps our dog each night—who willingly submits to her whims. When I peek in to kiss her goodnight, I often find her reading or drawing with our dog snuggled up beside her. Jewelry hangs from a gold elephant I gifted her years ago, and her baby photos adorn the walls. A fairy house in the corner is lovingly decorated with acorns and bits of fabric, and her homemade bookmarks are scattered across her dresser. She definitely needs more storage for all her treasures; poor girl is running out of space!
In my oldest son’s room, a bike is propped up by the window, tools scattered around like a mini repair shop. Music fills the air as he tinkers, with baggies of elastics on his nightstand next to loose change and a Matchbox car still in its box from his aunt. His desk is a chaotic mix of phone chargers, hall passes, and ski clothes draped over a chair. He’s a keeper of boxes for every electronic device he owns, stacked proudly beside a few trophies.
While I used to dream of cleaner rooms, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I don’t need to love the clutter. I can simply close the door and ignore it—or, even better, occasionally venture in and embrace their creativity. I remember being a child, wanting my possessions on display, like that beautiful shell or new doll. Kids see their stuff as life, art, and passion—not as a mess. Why clean it up when they’re bound to use it again soon?
Sure, there have been times I’ve done a “Mom Clean” with a garbage bag in hand, and we’ve tackled closet cleanouts together a few times a year. I don’t expect them to maintain a pristine room daily. I’m not bothered if they leave their beds unmade. What truly warms my heart is discovering sweet notes they’ve exchanged, unfinished puzzles on the floor, or containers of slime they created together. They’re growing up fast, and these little moments remind me they’re still my kids for just a while longer.
Just because I wouldn’t want to sleep in their rooms doesn’t mean they feel the same, and that’s what matters most. They’re comfortable and at home, and I trust that if that ever changes, they’ll take action to fix it. Plus, I have the rest of the house exactly how I want it. Their rooms are their own little worlds.
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Summary
As a neat freak, I often struggle with the mess my kids create, but I’ve come to appreciate the importance of allowing them to have their own chaotic spaces. Their bedrooms are their havens for creativity and imagination, filled with treasures that tell their stories. While I maintain order in the rest of the house, their rooms are their own domains, and I cherish the moments of discovery within them.