By Paige Rien

The transformation of our formal living room (a maximalist, moody and formal space that people really seemed to like on Instagram) into a teen boy hang out space where parents aren’t allowed, has been an exercise in dying to self, to put it mildly. Our last decision in this project was whether to use a flag with the original Redskins logo or one with the new Commanders logo. It was remarkably easy to buy a flag with the now banned name and logo, which I was told had “more aura” and so up it went. If this offends you, just have a seat because there will be a lot more where that came from as you hear of my design process led by my teenage sons, their whims, and my hopes for them.

Now this may sound strange, as “teenage sons” and “living room” and “design” are odd bedfellows, and for a variety of reasons. Teenagers tend to not want to be anywhere where an adult may be. They crave their very own LED-lit space where they can be alone with their phone. And parents are often loath to surrender a space like the living room, which for several generations in suburban America has been where the woman of the house fashions the most ideal, formal and not-to-be-used space in the house.  And then often enough the living room furniture ends up being sold at an estate sale after the family downsizes with at most nine people having ever used it. (Insert palms up shrug emoji.) But still, to let the teens use it seems sacrilegious I”m sure to interior design dogma.

We would do well to question the format of the American suburban home more often to see if it matches how we really live or not. My work in interior design has always been about addressing how each unique family operates. There is something about having teenagers which has forced me to see how my family operates, newly. They are busier, older, less interested it seems in the family as their dominant influence and domain. Still, it’s been said that the home is a place where you are known, seen and loved, even when you’re 16. As parents if we want to see and know our teens they have to be home some (no small feat) and we need to know their friends. Convenient for our design process, in preparing for their friends to potentially come to the newly fashioned living room, my children told me exactly what was wrong with the house. They have clearly been inspired by lots of spaces on social media resplendent with LED lights, contemporary blandness, gamer tech, etc., all in the goal of being “aesthetic,” which no matter how many times I say is a noun not an adjective, no one will listen.

Hearing the tick-tock of the childhood clock made the dying to self process of surrendering my sophisticated living room, all the more easy. My hope is that making the space hospitable to 16-year-old boys, that 16-year-old boys will actually come, and in so doing, my 16-year-olds will learn to be hospitable, build friendships in a wholesome way, and give mom and dad a small window into what the heck they are doing when they are not with us. I will add that practically and logistically speaking we have a tiny basement, which I know is rare in the suburbs, and this forced my hand a little. But I chalk up this circumstance; designer mama with maximalist tendencies and a huge ego who has three teen sons who want anything but anything mom could ever want, to be just as it's supposed to be in this humbling, edifying, clarifying season with teens. Lord, you sure do have a sense of humor! 

So here we are, with the formerly “formal living room” right next to the front door, draped in movie posters and NFL flags and four shades of grey. Lest you think this is indulgent, we are still using an old couch, an old mini-fridge, an old coffee table, and (keeping) the old curtains no one has noticed are still there yet. This project was more about removing layers of mom, than adding things that would please them. And I was happy to do this because one of my deepest regrets as a parent, and designer, distracted by a desire to receive outside affirmation, is not leaving this room absolutely empty when we moved in, which would have been the ideal composition for three boys under 8 years old. Rather than immediately transform it for adults who rarely came to use it, I wish I kept it as an empty playroom for whatever LEGO/ride on/wrestling romp they might have delighted in. But I didn’t give them that. So I am happy to surrender the teen living room today.

Adapting our home to teens, or allowing it to be adapted, is in its own way sanctifying. Just as is to adapt your sleep schedule, your bank account and orient your prayers around young people who spend more time than not, away from you. But this is all an important part of our development and spiritual growth, and part of the natural process of the family home where this growth takes place. Practically speaking, if you sincerely want your house to be used as a vehicle to get to know your people, there are some important questions to ask:

If you have teenagers, does your house work for them to be there with their friends?

Is there a space in your house which you are holding on to, which could be enjoyed more by someone you live with, if it looked different or was used differently?

How can you work to get to your teens either in the home, or outside of it?

All good, hard questions. Please know if you have to give something up, in exchange for the home being used, and relationships being more deeply formed, that is a good thing.

Paige Rien is a designer, author, mother of four, wife to Francis, television industry escapee and Catholic convert. She is passionate about encouraging women in their homes. She is the author of two books and is working on a third. She can be found spending too much time on Instagram, @paigerien or at one of her boys' football games cheering too loudly.