Surviving Adolescence: My Room

As a mom of four, the idea that my bedroom is my sanctuary is . . . well, laughable. By the time I am done with dinner, clean-up, laundry, writing, answering emails, homework duty, putting my Demon Baby to bed, and all the rest of it, and get into my bed, all I want to do is collapse in quiet and read. But then starts the older ones tromping in. This one wants to talk about boy problems. This one about his evil science teacher. This one about . . . life in elementary school. So I put my book down and talk. Because I know too well that someday, they will all be gone and no one will want to talk to me.


But when I was a teenager? My bedroom was my sanctuary. My escape from my FAMILY. Much as I loved them, I just wanted to be ALONE. It helped that my room was in the finished basement. I had my own bathroom, and it was quiet down there. I could cocoon all I wanted. I could read. Play my clock radio. (I know . . . dating myself here. Now, of course, I have a killer stereo and iPod.) Talk to my boyfriend on the phone. In other words, HIDE.

Better yet, when the weekend came, I could SLEEP. Right now, I have sleep lust. Between four kids and deadlines, sleep is something I crave.

But back then . . . I could sleep in until noon.

I wouldn't want to go through high school again. But sometimes I find myself wishing for that old cave of a room of mine.

Anyone else treasure their room in their teenage years?

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