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When I reflect on my childhood, I remember the strong bond I had with my brothers. We were incredibly close, with just six years separating us from the eldest to the youngest. I was the oldest, and I never really yearned for a sister. Perhaps it was because I didn’t want to share a room or my belongings, but honestly, I was just happy being with my brothers. That sense of unity hasn’t faded over the 36 years since my youngest brother was born; we remain a close-knit family, and I cherish that.
After marrying, I was blessed with four kids of my own — three sons and a daughter. Interestingly, our family dynamic is a mirror image of my own upbringing, with our little girl being the youngest. I’m thrilled to see that my children share the same closeness, if not more, than my siblings and I did growing up. It warms my heart to witness their bond.
Now, before you envision a picture-perfect family straight out of a 1950s sitcom, let me clarify: we are not the idealized Cleaver family. We have our share of arguments, sulking, and occasional timeouts. However, for the most part, we operate as a tight unit. My sons, in fact, share a room, and they’re not toddlers anymore.
We live in a four-bedroom house, meaning at least two of the kids have always shared a space. Before this house, we had three bedrooms for three kids, so someone was always a roommate. That someone was often my middle son, who has never had a room to himself. In our first house, he shared with his older brother, and the arrangement persisted when we moved to our second home, where my daughter got her own room.
As the kids matured, we made some adjustments. My eldest turned 13 and wanted his own space, so we gave him a room. My third son then moved in with my second son, and everything seemed fine for about three months. My oldest soon realized he missed sharing a room with his brother and wanted to return. So, we faced a dilemma: we had freshly decorated rooms, but my son opted to crash on a beanbag on the floor just to join in on late-night conversations and gaming sessions.
We recognized the unique situation we had — our kids loved being together so much that they preferred to share a room rather than have their own spaces. In fact, my sons even found a triple bunk bed online, which they convinced us to buy. It became clear this was less of a problem and more of a delightful blessing. Their love for one another was evident, and we embraced it.
The bedroom was big enough to accommodate the massive bed, and soon after it arrived, my five-year-old daughter was so excited that she claimed the beanbag for herself. She frequently chooses to sleep there, not wanting to miss out on the fun in that shared room.
The boys transformed their space into a hangout spot. They received a TV for their birthday, so they often engage in video games or binge-watch shows together. Meanwhile, my daughter brings in her dolls and spends hours playing under the loft. When I call them for dinner, it’s a simple shout to one spot, knowing they’ll all come running together. It fills me with joy.
I understand that this arrangement won’t last forever. With my eldest heading to high school soon, I suspect he might want his own room back. But for now, that shared space is home to laughter, late-night chats, and cherished memories. I take great pride in that.
It may seem unusual, but I feel as though I’ve succeeded as a mom. My kids genuinely care for one another, which isn’t a guarantee in every family. Personalities can clash, but thankfully, we don’t experience that in our home. My children are best friends, and I hope this bond continues throughout their lives.
I dream of them standing by each other at weddings, eagerly awaiting news of new family members, and being there for milestones together. Family is a treasure, and I want ours to remain close.
While they might eventually stop sharing a bedroom and there may come a day when my middle son insists on having his own space, for now, I’ll continue to sneak in and kiss them goodnight. I’ll hold onto these moments of innocence and sweetness, replaying them in my mind when challenges arise.
Sharing a room with brothers is a fleeting experience. I encourage them to enjoy every moment and always support and love one another. Life is short, and they are incredibly blessed — as am I.