How a Christmas Desk Paved the Way for Small Space Hospitality

Adding a desk to our kids’ bedroom launched an apartment reshuffling akin to a game of musical chairs. The desk was the last player standing, so to speak, as we shed the outgrown or underused contents of our New York City apartment–all for the sake of making our home a welcoming gathering place.

My eldest daughter had included a desk on her Christmas wish list. For a suburban family with ample room, this would have been a no-brainer. As a mom fitting a household of six into a two-bedroom apartment, however, her wish seemed unrealistic.

I saw the value in upgrading our toddler table to a scale appropriate for my eight, ten, and twelve year olds. An extra workstation would come in handy, especially considering they often invite friends over for homework playdates. However, we needed to think outside the box to seriously entertain the idea. Two bunk beds, two dressers, and a bookshelf monopolized all four walls in the kids’ bedroom, so where could we squeeze in a desk?

As an experiment, we tried moving the dressers to the same wall, arranging them back-to-back. While they fit, I didn’t love seeing their mismatched sides as I entered the room. We later discovered that rotating one dresser to create an L shape eliminated the eyesore; it also formed a notch perfect for discretely storing the laundry bin. Newly confident that we had the floor space to make my daughter’s dream a reality, we found a desk with a top hutch for extra storage, drawers for each of the four kids, and a built-in power system with lighting and outlets. Sold! 

But to add something as physically substantial as a desk to our home, we had to shed the same volume of stuff. As a rule of thumb, if an item comes into the apartment, another item must leave. Living in tight quarters requires us to use every cubic foot strategically, whether it’s for active living space, storage, or simply breathing room so the apartment doesn’t feel too cramped. 

Motivated to accommodate the desk and maintain our apartment as an inviting hangout spot, we launched into an apartment-wide decluttering and reshuffling. For each item, we asked: “Do I still need this?” “Is it worth the space it occupies?” “Do we still play with this toy?” “Does this bring me joy, or would it bring someone else even more joy?” Donating neglected picture books made room on a bookshelf for the artwork the desk would displace. Cleaning out old linens from under a bunk bed created a new home for our stuffed animals (which also got pared down), subsequently freeing up a cubby to house my daughter’s bulky sweatpants and hoodie collection. We went vertical, perching the doll bunk beds atop the dressers–made possible because the paperwork that was previously filed there now had a new spot in the desk cabinet.

When we considered our lovely but bulky dollhouse, we realized it was time to part ways. Because it inspired such fond memories, I didn’t take this decision lightly. It originated with a fellow twin mom whose girls worked as my mother’s helpers when I had three kids under three years old. It then passed to a family at our church who mentored me as a newlywed. When they handed the house down to our family, my kids were the perfect preschool age for such a treasure. When I discovered a neighbor with a kindergartener who loves to make believe, I decided they would provide the perfect new home. It brings me immense joy knowing the dollhouse and its Calico Critters residents avoided the garbage pit, and we gained six cubic feet of space!

With our odds and ends tidied up and dust bunnies banished, we eagerly awaited the arrival of our new desk. The behemoth box greeted us when we returned from Christmas vacation. My daughter was so excited to see it assembled, the gazillion pieces of hardware and planks didn’t daunt her. In fact, she discovered her fingers were the perfect size to twist the tiny screws as my husband held various elements in place. They worked as a team for more than five hours over New Year’s to build the desk. It came together hours past bedtime, but we didn’t want to kill the momentum with an overnight building break. My daughter took particular pride in assembling all the tricky drawer gliders. This accomplishment will certainly come to mind as she interacts with the desk day to day. I imagine it will also boost her confidence as she assembles her own furniture some day.

I was particularly motivated to make my daughter’s vision of a kids’ desk a reality as I see an increased need for workstations around our home. As the kids grow, so does their homework load–with more and more work requiring a computer. They used to complete their assignments on the couch or kitchen table. Now, I see the value in having a homework desk in a room where they can close the door. Add saxophone and flute practice to the mix, and there’s even more reason to set up quiet work zones.

My desire to provide a welcoming and functional home environment extends beyond homework. The new desk acts as a hub for hobbies and fun as well. For instance, many art supplies have migrated to the kids’ desk drawers, and the hutch provides a great spot for displaying finished creations. The bedroom is now even more equipped for the middle schoolers who descend upon the apartment for after school hangouts. Much of their social interaction involves computers (since we have managed to hold off on phones). They pop by in the afternoon to work on projects with “study music” playing on the computer in the background, negotiating with each other about which siblings and friends get to use which laptop and when it’s time for a snack break. Somehow, my son has assumed the role of homework enforcer and so gathers his buddies to simultaneously goof off and work on Google Slides. While not super efficient, they certainly have fun, and the homework eventually gets done!

The kids inevitably play some computer games, jumping into each other’s interactive worlds on Roblox. The other day, my daughter and her BFF challenged my son and his friend to a virtual fashion show competition–with hilarious results. My fifth grader was giddy with excitement as she joked around with my son’s friend about hair styles and who knows what else–I mainly just heard lots of belly laughs bouncing off the walls as I prepared dinner. Another evening, my son set up a video call with a buddy he met at a Rubik’s cube competition, during which they chatted, demoed their cubes, and spurred each other on toward faster solve times. Today, the girls are browsing recipes online and running kitchen experiments involving melted sugar and baking soda; now the apartment smells like caramel.

I cherish the opportunity to provide a landing spot for our family and friends. It means the world to me that my tweens still choose to socialize here. Their ease at inviting others into their space will serve them well through the years. This culture of hospitality is something I hope my kids carry into adulthood, as I have found life lived in community to be priceless.

As my tweens become more independent, I can’t be physically present with them all the time. They self-dismiss from middle school and plan their own social outings with classmates whose families I’ve never met. When our home is a compelling hangout option for these roving young adults, I can meet their friends, listen in on the topics of the day, and understand what sort of influences and peer pressure my kids are facing. On that note, I hope our home environment positively influences anyone who walks through the door by encouraging wholesome fun and friendship.

In her Master Class, designer Joanna Gaines encourages listeners to envision the moments they want to experience in their living space and craft those spaces to make such moments possible. For me, I picture an apartment full of friends and family members working, playing, and resting together. One of my fondest memories at home came on a rainy afternoon when my four kids and I each spontaneously invited our closest friends over to shelter from the storm. What resulted was a dozen bodies in an apartment full of happy chaos in what I have since dubbed our Best Friend Playdate.

My goal is to provide the canvas of a comfortable, peaceful place to gather after a day out and about. If creating this environment means shuffling stuff to make room for a desk, completing my computer work during the school day so the laptop is free when everyone arrives home, keeping the snack cupboard stocked, giving kids space to let out their goofy giggles, and laying out the welcome mat for whomever my children invite over, I’m game.