Scrappy, I lived in one of those "train" style apartments that were like a long hallway of rooms divided by walls with no doors. My room was more of a cubbie hole or cubicle that was initially painted tomato red. I whined for robin's egg blue and got it. Then realized I liked the red better! LOL

That's so funny. I think waiting for the blue room for thirty years makes me appreciate it more.

Scrappy,

As one of fourteen children, 9 of us girls, I never even dreamed of having my own room. Sometimes I slept four to a double bed. It wasn't until I left home at 18 I had my own room, but I could just barely afford the luxury. I now have a nice home, my children are grown and I see my young grandchildren often even having "sleepovers" once a week. I never mind sharing my bed with the little girls. Funny how things lose their importance.

I came home from the hospital and was plonked down in my brother's room, where I lived for the next 17 years (and really it was my permanent home until I was 22 or so). The brother left for college when I was 13, I guess; being a little brother, it never occurred to me to want my own room, but I'll bet it did to him.

I shared with my younger brother until I was 6, then had my own room in the two houses we lived in after that. My rooms were very small and I wasn't allowed to paint (my mom had an all-whites and taupes thing going for a long time), though in high school I did stick up lots of art postcards and things in what I thought was a very sophisticated arrangement. In the house we lived in from 5th grade until I went away to college, it was actually a small 2-bedroom house, modern and spread down several levels. I had what was meant to be a study, all the way at the bottom of the house, which was great in high school when I was up late writing papers but scary when I was 10. I'd fight with my mom to try to get her to leave the stairway light on so I wouldn't feel so separate from them (three flights of stairs away). I'm still kind of afraid of the dark.

Yes, as far back as I can remember. My sisters happened to be twelve and thirteen years older than me.

However, the fact that I have two older sisters I don't remember living with just means I grew up as an "only child" but have then spent my loooong adulthood as the "baby sister."

Uh huh, I believe that is the root of all my problems. That is my story and I'm sticking with it.

I shared a room with sister who was six years younger than me. When I was twelve, our grandmother surprised us with new twin beds and it was announced that we would each have our own room henceforth. Officially my sister moved across the hall, but in reality she almost always slept on a mat on the floor in my room. Our brother (closer to her age) would sometimes sleep on my floor too. I was busy and not home much, and I don't remember ever minding them being there, although it was annoying if one of them fell asleep in my bed if I stayed out late.

Today, I have a biological daughter who is 5, and a foster daughter who is 4, and my husband and I keep camping mats under our bed so they can just come in and sleep on the floor when they need us close by. Our foster son (6 months) has his crib in our room too. The only one that really sleeps on his own is our foster son who is 2.

Recently we asked our daughters (who share the master bedroom) if they would like to have their own rooms, and each of them looked at us in amazement and asked "Why?". So, for now this arrangement seems to be working (although we hope to move the baby in with his brother soon)!

I loved having my own apartment until I was 30, but now at 40 I enjoy sharing my space again.

These stories are so amazing, everyone. Thank you so much for sharing. If you have a scan of your childhood room, I'd love to do something with these stories either for the site or on the blog. You can email them to me at videos (at) dominomag.com and put childhood room in the subject line. Either include your story in your email or let me know your username on this site and I can do posts about them or a slide show once I see what I get.

I slept on a pull-out sofa in our flat's living room until I was 10. That's when we moved and when I got my very own room with my very own furniture of beautiful, inlaid rosewood. A big double bed, dresser, chest of drawers and the most glorious piece of all - a vanity table with a three-way, stand-alone mirror and a sweet swivel chair that allowed me to turn and gaze at myself from every angle possible. Perfect for hours of daydreaming. I was so excited to get that furniture that I even wrote my name in chalk on the back of the dresser...Dolly. I still have that furniture and my name is still there Every time I dust it I find myself smiling and daydreaming again and remembering.