I still remember stacking lunchboxes in the kitchen while telling my son about his school play and reminding my daughter to finish her math; mornings in our suburban cul-de-sac are a choreography of backpacks, bikes, and friendly waves to the neighbors. At forty-two, I like the little routines that make our house feel like home: pancakes on Saturdays, bedtime stories that stretch a little too long, and the quiet, half-empty moments when the kids are at school and I finally sip my coffee. Those in-between spaces made me rethink our rooms — especially the bedrooms — and how a calm…