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The whir of the wall heater lulls me to sleep. I’m in seventh grade again, at my friend’s house, dreaming of my life as an adult. We just watched Dirty Dancing and inhaled a bag of Doritos with a 2L of Dr Pepper and no one considered the carbohydrates involved. In reality, I am an adult. With children. And two husbands by now. And a whole lot of disappointments and triumphs along the way. I still feel like that awkward seventh grader when, I’m actually the mother of a seventh grader. How did this happen? I’m typing this in a cottage in the woods. A writer’s weekend, that’s what I claimed it to be. And in late 2022, I am stuck trying to decide how much of my life to share on social media and how many posts are “enough” to promote my writing. The internet connection is poor here and it’s a blessing and a curse. When did we become so tied to people we’ve never met and numbers oft generated by bots? Do I measure the importance of my work by likes, shares, and follows or by actual lives impacted? And let’s be honest, we rarely know when we impact a life because the Enneagram and Myers-Briggs tells us that a certain % of folks are introverts and would never tell us if we helped them, to no fault of our own. And the trauma we have all endured. I am not joking. The real actual trauma and pain I have seen my fellow GenXers and patients and friends endure. We all go to therapy and spend countless hours trying to right some of the wrongs between scrolling and TikToking, working our regular jobs, raising tiny to full-sized humans, and trying to eat whole foods. In this world of 2-4 second attention spans, I feel lost. I feel lonely. I feel drained. Am I the only one? And so I sit. In Midlife. In the Southeast. In middle school bleachers and while planning a wedding for the oldest. I sit at baseball tournaments and in my car traveling to see my patients. I sit at kitchen tables discussing hospice the same morning I sit with my fifth grader studying vocabulary. I know I’m not alone. The Middle is weird. It’s not the beginning, like I am reminded of with my oldest and his fiancé. The furniture shopping and the bedspread and dishes selections. It’s not the end either. The disbursement of family heirlooms and quiet days sparsely populated by visiting friends or family. It’s not the days of toddler-parent-survival where bath time and nap time ruled the schedule. But it’s not the days where everyone can drive yet either. And oh yeah a pandemic happened. School shootings. A nation so divided I can’t even recognize it. But just keep on going folks. Keep on posting and hashtagging and hustling. Meh. I will take this Middle. I will take the Menopause and the investment planning and the figuring out how to parent adult children. I will take it and try to learn from it and admit that it’s uncomfortable. See, we are too old to fake stuff in this Middle. We have seen too much. I think my writing will continue to be what it is. Real. Raw. With a flimsy filter and a side of sarcasm. It will grow as I do. I hope you join me. If anything in this little diary entry stirred your insides, then know that we are in this together. Let’s go. Awkward but not alone.
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Here are my FAVORITE things for November 2022:
I hope these gave you some good gift or snack or entertainment ideas! Life is short, so have fun! Godspeed my friends. Turns out, my next right thing includes more writing. More creating. More TikToks. More singing. More reading. More sleeping. More dancing. More laughter. More fun. Adapted from several sources including MakseLife and Emily P. Freeman's Next Right Thing Journal, I try my best to do a monthly (and best practice- weekly) reflection. In that reflection, we should ask ourselves:
As I reflect on the past 6 months of my life, I wonder where the hours and the days have gone. I made such a huge life change that it almost feels like I experienced some type of time warp. The only way I can describe it is by framing those 6 months as a rebirth, a metamorphosis, but also... a hibernation, a recharge, an INHALE. When we run so fast and so hard for so long, we don't know how to stop. We have to schedule time to cry and time to laugh. Time to talk to a friend uninterrupted and time to touch our spouse. Now that I am seeing patients closer to their last days than their first, I know deep in my soul that I will never resume that pace. The little things are the big things. The best things in life are free. Sleep is a beautiful thing. All the cliches are true. So in reflection, I deem:
What next?
I encourage you to have a Fall Reset. Fall Reflection. Fall Recharge.
Holidays will be here soon and being less stressed and more rested is GOLD. Allow yourself an inhale this October. Shed your dead skin. You know what needs to go. And if you can't even think about focus or reflection, just stay on the couch scrolling. It worked for me. And now I'm back. 🥰 There is nothing worse than having a fight or flight response. It can last for hours once the adrenaline and cortisol dump into the bloodstream. It is bad enough when you have that response and you know what caused it, but imagine having that response without knowing what caused it. That can feel defeating and depleting. Since I have had too many panic attacks to count over the years, I have started to identify ways and places I feel safe. If I am able to get to one of these places, I can sometimes head off a panic attack or restore a calm mood. I hope you can start to identify your safe places and safe activities. For ME, my top 7 are:
I created a Power Hour with my husband 1-2 years ago. This hour from 7-8 pm is sacred and did not happen until at least 10 years into my marriage. There were lots of reasons we were not connecting regularly, but one of them was some strained family dynamics. I created this time and location so that we could start to connect regularly and so that other family members would respect that time we both needed so desperately. Naming what you need is so important. Deciding what will happen and when it will happen is paramount for consistency and expectations in a relationship. As I have said many times, I am not a licensed therapist.
When I found my AMAZING current therapist, one of the very first things she guided me to ask myself regularly was "do I feel safe?". I barely had time to stretch for 5 minutes a day, so how was I going to remember to ask myself if I feel safe? What in the world was she talking about? I soon realized that the simple, brief, piercing question "do I feel safe?" would become a huge turning point for healing in my life. Do I feel safe in this friendship? Do I feel safe in this marriage? Do I feel safe at work? Do I feel safe with just me, myself, and I? And if I don't feel safe, can I ask those that love me for what I need? Are there some strategies we could implement that would help me to feel safe? Do I need to close spend more time with those people and in those places that help me feel safe? Will that help me navigate the unavoidable situations where I do not feel safe? And most importantly, if I start to feel unsafe (which can sometimes lead to a panic attack), HOW can I get back to safety both mentally and physically? She freed up my LIFE when she explained that I don't have to "fix" whatever is making me feel unsafe. I just have to learn how to regulate my own body and get back to a place of calm and centeredness. Wow. Mic Drop. I don't have to fix it! I can't fix it! This is one of those posts I encourage you to read a few times and perhaps grab a pen and paper. Jot down the places and people who make you feel icky. Write down the people and places that make you feel GOOD. And try to stop focusing on fixing the first list. You can't fix it. Focus on spending more time in and around the second list. And find your seven ways and places to feel safe. Godspeed. I distinctly remember a conversation I had with an acquaintance when I was a brand new NP in my late 20s. I did not have children yet, but I had made some poor money decisions (traveling and shopping outside of my means mostly). The woman chatting with me (who was 10-15 years my senior) said "Oooooooh, I can only imagine how much money you make. You're a nurse practitioner!" She added "If I were you, I would go get a Starbucks every day! I would pay someone to clean my house! I would buy whatever I wanted." What she didn't know:
What I didn't know:
So - what does any of that have to do with me taking my lunch to work every day as an adult? The truth is, everything. Every. Single. Thing. My plans for this post were to include healthy lunch tips. I was going to post pictures of a variety of healthy lunches I have made and taken (those don't happen during baseball season). I was going to calculate the money I have saved over the past 12-15 years I have been brown-bagging my lunch. But here's the truth. This is why I take my lunch every day. Are you ready?
And I guess me laying all that out to you, friends, is the point. I like the truth. I like the real WHY. I see through the frivolities in life and I shudder at the brand-chasing and label-seeking that drives so many. There is no dollar amount one could pay me to give up my kindergarten-style lunches. It's what I need at this moment right now, and it keeps me sane. Time is my Starbucks - freedom is my housekeeper. To write, to think, to create, to build something from nothing. That's what I chase. Until then, there's homework and practice and rehearsal and charts. Laundry and dishes and puberty and a tired Mom pouring her heart out on the internet. Find your "lunch" --- figure out what keeps you off the edge and what you really want to chase. Godspeed. ❤️
Does any of this sound familiar? It can be so VERY painful! How do we handle it? How do we move forward? I am currently working on being more vulnerable with my SAFE trusted people. I do not encourage jumping into vulnerability with strangers or acquaintances - you will almost always get burned. Instead, I encourage you to try it - tiptoe into it- with a very few people that you trust. Share your true feelings. Your fears. Your struggles. Your feelings of inadequacy. Your shame. But beware- even your SAFE people may not know what to do when you share these things. You may be the one who is always strong. You may be the one who always helps others but never needs help. This may be due to your Enneagram or personality type, or it may be a learned skill from your family of origin. And by skill, I also mean defense or coping mechanism, but I digress... So... what if you finally open up with said trusted people and they don't know how to respond? What next? My suggestion is to allow THEM time to process it. After all, they aren't used to you coming to them for advice or support. After adequate time has passed, ask them if you two can talk about it. Remind them that you shared this with them because you trust them and you value their feedback. If they are unable to support you for whatever reason, you will know that they might not be someone you can turn to in a time of need or that right now they just do not have the bandwidth to support you. And that's okay. If you receive pushback from your person or one of the rejections I listed above, then perhaps this says more about them and their own feelings of self-worth or lack thereof. Perhaps empathy is not their strong suit. Perhaps not being the center of attention does not fit within their needs. Perhaps supporting you takes too much of their energy that they would rather spend elsewhere. And if so, then you have your answer. Take that however you choose. So that covers the topic of vulnerability with SAFE loved ones. What about rejection? Rejection can occur in friendships, romantic relationships, at work, at your child's activities (mom hate, anybody? or mom cliques?). Rejection can be aggressive and in-your-face or it can be silent and manipulative. Rejection can be someone you love simply not supporting you or asking about your newfound passion or project (or marriage or kids or job or anything for that matter). That feels like rejection, right? Rejection can be passive-aggressive or outright pointed and forceful. Anything that makes us feel like our efforts are either unnoticed or unappreciated or unsupported FEELS LIKE rejection. Perhaps your corporation just doesn't know what to do with you. So they just kinda ignore you and your talents and even though EVERYONE ELSE you encounter praises you, they just watch you from afar. Perhaps your love interest is jealous of your success, so instead of celebrating and bragging to others about you, they just sit quietly while complete strangers are the ones to congratulate you. Maybe your family members have always wanted to do what it is that you are actually brave enough to do now and so they can't find the words to talk with you about it. Their feelings of inadequacy outweigh their actual love for you and desire to support you. All this stuff is DEEP, ya'll - and it's real. I have witnessed it on both ends - both the recipient of rejection and the one crippled with (insert emotion here) so much that I couldn't tell my loved one I was proud of them. How many social media posts have you AVOIDED (scrolled right by) because you weren't sure what to comment or if you were truly happy for that person OR it made you feel some type of way? STOP RIGHT THERE. I know for 100% FACTS that I just told the truth. Every single person reading this right now has done that. DM me if I'm wrong. It's okay that you have done it (I've done it too!!!!), but I would encourage you to stop. Take some deep breaths. Walk outside if that's what grounds you. And ask yourself what emotion you are feeling and maybe why you are feeling it. That person who posted whatever it is that triggered you was NOT thinking about you when they posted it. (Everyone is always only thinking about themselves, 99% of the time, or so Dear Therapist reminds me regularly). Perhaps YOU need to work on whatever it is that was triggered inside you to the point that you couldn't congratulate or console someone you actually care about. I REPEAT. Perhaps YOU need to work on whatever it is that was triggered inside you to the point that you couldn't congratulate or console someone you actually care about. Again, I am not a licensed therapist, but I have worked with patients for over 20 years. I'm in my second marriage. I am a regular mom and a full-time step-mom. I have been in and lived in functional families and dysfunctional families. I have been betrayed. I have been lied to and belittled. I am a trauma survivor and I am honestly only trying to help anybody, not everybody. If I can help one person know and feel that they are not alone, then me sitting here typing on my back patio on my glorious day off is worth every second of my time and ounce of my energy. The birds are chirping, ya'll. The sun is shining. And I want to live. I want to both be alive and enjoy my life. It's almost spring and I feel a shift on the horizon. I'm tired of all the surface conversations and BS. I'm ready to speak my truth. Vulnerability is hard and rejection stinks. Bottom line. But we can do better. We just have to pause, think, consider who it is we may be hurting (because of our own garbage we are also working on), and then do better. Godspeed.
How on earth is it already time for 2022? Where did 2021 go? I'm not sure, BUT, I am ready for 2022. 2021 was messy and ugly in many ways. On a personal level, it was unkind to my health. I received a new diagnosis of psoriasis in March and had to miss an entire month of work while my body was adjusting to new medications and my skin was trying to heal. October revealed an unexpected opportunistic infection (since I'm immunocompromised) that required strong antibiotics and made me feel pretty lousy. Since November 1, I have been hobbling around on painful swollen knees and am facing unexpected knee surgery. Pity party? Nah, not my style. Swallowing it all? That's my go-to. When I think about my health and how unfair it is that I've tried to take care of my body my whole life and I'm still getting the short end of the health stick, I can get pretty low. Then I think of all my patients who have it "worse." And I swallow it. I shove it down. I brush it off. But is that healthy? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. So I'm learning to acknowledge my own feelings. I'm sad that my body is not behaving. I'm angry in some ways. I'm frustrated for sure. I'm still thankful that I can work for right now. I am beyond grateful for my parents who live 2 doors down and help me daily. I'm tired. I'm realizing I have X amount of energy each day and my family needs the bulk of it. If my job takes most of it then I'm robbing my family of my best self. Filing for disability has been on my mind more in the past 9 months than it ever has during this 5 year sarcoidosis journey. So what next? New year, new adventures, new planner, new goals, new.... what else is new now that I'm 45? I have a lot of old. Old hurts. Old unmet needs. Old furniture. Old clothes. Old shame. Old junk in my kitchen drawers. Old relationship issues that deserve a conversation. An old van that has chipping paint but it's paid for and gets us to ball tournaments. I think the reflex for all of us is to replace the old with the new and that will make it all better. New clothes. The newest kitchen gadget. New furniture or decor, ON TREND, my dear! A shiny new SUV that costs more than most people's annual salary and gets 12 mpg. But boy does it look good and that's what counts, right? I'm no longer trying to replace the old just by reflex. It's harder to keep it and try to keep it running. Purging the clothes and kids' toys is definitely good, but when we throw out things that still work but aren't "good enough" for whatever standards, what does that say about us? Who and what have you thrown away and replaced with newer and easier? (ouch)... I'm falling apart health-wise in a lot of ways, but I "still work." Will my family or employer throw me out? Will my friends forget about me if I'm not as active and fun as I used to be? Where does that leave me? As an Enneagram 3 (Performer, Success Driven), I've been gut-punched this year by my body's betrayal. But God must be telling me something. I know He has a plan. I have to trust and slow down and just be. NOT. MY. STRONG. SUIT. Perhaps 2021 leaves you feeling like I do. Maybe you lost someone you loved. Maybe you were also betrayed by either your body or someone you trusted. Maybe you felt out of control all year like I did? Maybe you spent too many hours googling vaccines and viruses and death tolls like most of the world. Maybe you feel all the "junk" you've shoved down and swallowed for however long starting to surface and want to be named and noticed. I feel that with you. 2022 can be a renewal for us, my friends. I'm going to intentionally name what's working, what's not working, what is worth repair, and what really needs to be purged from my life. This goes for relationships, time spent, health choices, what I consume digitally and physically, items in my home and closet, and my thought life. I'm going to check myself when I just want to replace the old for that quick dopamine hit. I'm going to try to sit in the uncomfortable and define what's causing it. I can't keep running 90 mph. 2022 is for slowing down. It is for evaluation. It is for growing up, finally. Godspeed. There are SO many ways to use a daily planner. Over the years, I have tried numerous daily planners: Planner Perfect Traveler's Notebook system, Passion Planner Daily, Erin Condren Daily Petite Planner, bullet journaling, Michael Hyatt's Full Focus Planner, and Emily Ley's Simplified Planner Daily. The 3 that I stuck with the longest are Planner Perfect, Passion Planner, and EC Daily Petite. I really enjoyed bullet journaling, but it seemed to take more time than I currently have available since everything is blank and undated. Planner Perfect is also blank and undated (other than the pre-printed week-at-a-glance and month-at-a-glance in each of her monthly journals), BUT if you receive her monthly subscription box, you'll get 3 coordinating washi tapes for the month and 4 coordinating sticker pages for the month which make it easy to set up your monthly book. I also find it calming and rhythmic to lay down washi and stickers every month in a freshly printed traveler's notebook that I know will change out of my beautiful, rich, fabulously-leather-smelling Coco TN each and every month. It really is like a fresh start and a new beginning each month. There is something to be said for that. ☀️ Ways to use a daily planner (what to write in it):
Using a daily planner may seem cumbersome, time-wasting, like overkill, or even pointless to some. At times, I agree. Other times, however, I feel like I'm in 4th grade again - unable to drive yet- unable to see my friends freely - and full of creative energy and thoughts that need to land somewhere. I have markers, pens, coloring pencils, stamps, washi tape, and a TV with streaming services or Audible with any book I want or a phone with YouTube and AirPods to fill my creative or avoidant needs.
Planning CAN be numbing, and that's okay. I know a 40-something woman decorating paper with stickers is a much healthier outlet than substance abuse or an eating disorder and I do not say that lightly. Addiction is real. Trauma is real. Numbing is real. Self-soothing is real. Finding healthy and safe ways to calm our nervous system can be both life-giving and life-saving. YOU may just like pens and paper. I encourage you to take your planning love for what it is and enjoy it. I never met a dual-tip marker I didn't like. 😜✍️📝🌻
I was pretty sure an acorn grew into a tree. I haven't been in first grade for a while, but I thought I remembered an acorn grew into an oak tree. I decided I better look it up before I wrote an entire post about it, and alas... an acorn does grow into an oak tree. Wikipedia expounded upon acorns being used in art, cuisine, customs, and as food for various birds and mammals. When I took the picture of the acorn in my husband's hand this morning, I wasn't thinking about anything but stored potential. Stored potential. I remembered squirrels collect and store acorns for the winter. And they eat the acorns. And those eaten acorns never reach their calling of becoming a beautiful oak tree.
There are all kinds of books and stories and even a finance app regarding the acorn as a tool for storage, delayed potential, growth. And yet... Here we are, scrolling on our phones or our laptops or our tablets (thank you, dear readers, and I do mean that)... Did we write that book we wanted to write? Did we take that ballroom dance class we wanted to take? Did we belt it at karaoke night like we'd been rehearsing with our brush mic in front of our bathroom mirror? (Okay, Susie did but that was the bottomless margaritas singing, not her true heart's desire to sing on a stage in front of strangers and have someone's heart beat a little faster and someone's eyes water at the sheer sound of her voice... wait, maybe that's just me)? Did we finally tell our friend we were sorry when we did that thing that's rolled around in the back of our minds for 20 years? Did we hold our child close to our chest and tell them everything is going to be okay even though we know it might not be okay and we don't want to be the reason they're in therapy later but we don't want to pretend everything is okay, oh my goodness, what is the right answer? Did we apply for the promotion we know we deserve or let another opportunity pass us by? Did we sign up for the race we know we aren't ready for but really, really want to try? Did we tell the person that hurt us repeatedly that they did hurt us and going forward, did we define what we need from them? Did we look in the mirror this morning and like every single inch of our bodies and every single fiber of our heart and soul because God designed us as a masterpiece, beautifully and wonderfully made, despite society's measuring sticks? Or, did we remain on the leaf-covered ground like the acorn... waiting for a squirrel or bird or toddler to scoop us up? Were we stored away for another day? Were we consumed before we ever began our destiny? An oak tree is a beautiful destiny. She is strong, tall, sturdy, and beautiful, with colors that change with the seasons. She provides shelter, shade, and structure. She never leaves us and she stays the same for the most part. You know what else is beautiful? A mother who tells her children she has been hurt too, and that it really is all going to be okay. That she KNOWS it's going to be okay, because she is okay and she will help them be okay as long as she is on this earth. A wife who tells her partner what she needs from them even if she doesn't know if they can give her what she needs. A friend who tells the truth when asked if she's okay. And a friend who recognizes her own flaws and asks for patience and understanding. A daughter who can look at her elderly parents and recognize every line on their face and hands for all its good and bad and steadfastness. She can see herself acquiring those same lines and she knows the toll each one has taken. She knows that her own children will see her lines one day, and she hopes they give her the same recognition. I'm typing this on the porch of a cabin on a lake in north Georgia and the acorns are literally spilling from the treetops hitting the ground HARD and abruptly and with force and determination. Each one comes down on this cabin rooftop or leaf-scattered ground with a POUND or a BOOM or a SNAP. And my heart is full. For I know the destiny of each tiny acorn. She is yearning to become a beautiful oak. She is waiting for her moment to rise. Now it is your turn. What path will you choose? Will you make the hard decisions, let your voice be heard, show up for those who love and need you? Or will you stay on the ground... waiting... watching... allowing life to happen all around you? I dare you to stand. I will stand with you. Who knew a pen and paper ✍️ could save a life? I wasn’t actively suicidal. But I was having frequent daydreams of having a wreck that was “bad enough” to keep me in the hospital a few days, off work at least a month, and unable to help anyone else for a while. 😳 I wanted it to be a single-car accident and of course I wanted to be alone. I wasn’t looking forward to the injuries and was praying nothing would require surgery, but I couldn’t wait to have a respite from work, life, and motherhood. Does that sound crazy? Selfish? Or similar to thoughts you’ve had? Caregiver fatigue 😴 is a real thing, even if you’re paid to care for others. Motherhood fatigue 😴and lemme just say it, full-time step-motherhood 🤷🏼♀️ fatigue is a real thing even if you love your children 🚶♂️👬🏼 dearly. Today’s world 🌎 for women is exhausting:
Toss in a pandemic 😷 and virtual school 📚and BAM, all the therapists are booked! Fortunately, my mental "breakdown" was pre-pandemic. Thank the heavens I already had a therapist when my regular job got flipped upside down in March of 2020. My crazy started when I was in the throes of motherhood, working full-time and commuting with kids age 2, 4, and 12. I was crying regularly on my way home from work, wondering how I was going to get everything done and actually sleep too...😴 I’ve always had pen and paper near me, but I didn’t start regularly journaling ✍️ until I started feeling that OVERWHELM on a regular basis. I had so many thoughts racing through my head and I didn’t have a system to capture them. I was using a planner, but I might think of something while driving or in the shower and I would lose the idea 💡 or thought before I captured it. Some internet scrolling led me to David Allen’s Getting Things Done method. By this point I had played around with bullet journaling and list making (List Maker 4 Life right here now!), but again, I felt like my thoughts were fleeting and scattered. I will link the GTD method below, and I do think it's a good system, but that's not the point of this post. Once I started decluttering my mind from all the racing thoughts, then I had to face my actual thoughts. This was not a good look. I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed with abandon or woken up with a passion for life. I felt like I was on a treadmill with no way off. Someone was going to have to pull me off, and I didn't have the time or energy to ask anyone to pull me off. I never felt relaxed. I was in a constant state of fight or flight (or so it seemed). I was alive. But was I living? Enter the JOURNAL. ✍️ A journal can be so many things:
Singing my wake up song 🎵 to 2 sleepy-eyed, bed-head boys.
Rocking a baby in a soft onesie wrapped snugly and tenderly in a blanket. Seeing my parents’ puppies run towards me with wild abandon as I beckon “hey, Littttttttle Boys!!!!” A brand new journal tight at the spine, crisp at each paper edge, blank as a fresh-fallen snow. A mug full of barely-used dual-tip markers with a coffee-infused brain and 20 minutes to doodle. That bass drum, the high hat, a sexy snare, a rumble from a bass guitar, melody from those 🎹 keys, and a voice belting out pain or ecstasy in an outdoor venue. Yes 🙌🏻 I will and I want more! 100k of us squeezed together, sweating, smiling, ❤️ racing, waving shakers, roaring as a collective animal as one 20-something runs up and launches that 🏈 into a fall Saturday reunion of college powerhouse rivals. Inching into my ✈️ seat and opening a magazine I will never read on my way to something new. And this. Writing. Typing. Dreaming. Reflecting. Lamenting. Laughing. Crying. Smiling. Feeling. This gives me hope. Meeting you and considering one of my words might tug at your ❤️ or muster a grin. That gives me hope. Cabinets are Diamond from Lowes. Drawer pulls and knobs also from Lowes. Backsplash tile is from Home Depot. Bar stools from Hobby Lobby. Floors are Revolution Mills Aspire Accolade LVP. Sherwin Williams Angelic paint. My brother built this simple desk. Black chair from Amazon. Gray chair from Home Goods. I love the acrylic shelves to hold my planners from Amazon. Kanban board from Amazon. Intellectual Gray Sherwin Williams Paint inside the sleeping nook. We decided not to waste space under the stairs and placed a twin bed there. My husband wired it with a light and wall outlet in case we ever wanted to mount a TV. The kids love it!
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