The Atelier Is Taking Shape

I’ve been collecting things for the atelier for months, and I’m at the stage where almost anything can make me think, babies would love this.

A basket at the thrift store. A wooden object with a nice weight. A piece of fabric. I bring it downstairs and start imagining what a child might do with it, even though the whole point is that I don’t actually know.

That’s what I like about open-ended toys. The basket will probably be emptied more than it is filled. The scarf may become interesting only because it can be pulled through a hole. One beautiful wooden thing might be carried around for half the day and then abandoned under a chair.

I know I’m the one curating all of this, which is a funny tension. I care deeply about how the room looks, and then I want the children to come in and use everything in ways I didn’t plan.

I keep finding reasons to go downstairs and look at the room again.

I planted the long raised bed on the terrace too. It is definitely a first attempt, but just having something growing out there changed the feeling. I can picture a child checking the same leaf every day, or touching the soil when I wish they wouldn’t, or being much more interested in the hose.

Downstairs, I went all in on color drenching with low-VOC paint. The walls and trim are the same color in the main room and nap room. I wanted it to feel cozy and enveloping, almost womb-like.

Painting everything one color was satisfying for about five minutes and then became a lot of painting. But now I walk in and the rooms feel held together. They don’t feel like leftover rooms in a house anymore.

There is still a long list. I move an object onto a shelf, stare at it, and move it somewhere else. I worry that I have too much. Then I worry that I’m missing something essential.

Still, it’s starting to feel real. Not finished. Just real enough that I can stand in the room and imagine an ordinary morning there.