I’ve spent months mourning the state of the bedroom our boys share. After taking their bunk beds apart, we lost virtually all of their play space and I was convinced this was the source of their lack of creativity. “There’s nothing to do!” became their default response – sometimes before I even suggested they “go and play.” The room made me tense and that made my boys tense, and it all slipped downhill from there.

I was hoping I could move their beds into an L-shape and talked up how cool it would be to have a “giant couch” on one side of their room. My husband was ready to lend a hand, but not as quickly as my mania demanded, so I began rearranging furniture while he was at work one Sunday afternoon. It turned out my mania was so intense that even when the furniture didn’t fit, I plunged ahead, thinking it would be helpful if I shoved the beds into place – even if that meant one was resting slightly on top of the other one – so my husband could see what wasn’t working and “fix it.”

Fast forward several hours and we had, in our boys’ words, “the best bedroom ever!” More floor space. An upper bunk that’s easy to climb in and out of (and not a pain in the backside to change its sheets) and a lower bunk that won’t give you a concussion if you sit up too quickly. There’s even a built-in fort, with bookshelves and cushions and warm lighting (and – bonus – it’s not in the center of my living room!)

Like so many of the things I wrestle with, deep down I believed the solution was beyond my reach (i.e., moving to a bigger home). And, like so many of the things I’ve discovered about myself this year, I learned that a lack of (simple) solutions spawns a level of creativity I couldn’t access if things were any easier.

Oh, and did I mention my boys think it’s the best bedroom ever?!