I never thought I’d become obsessed with spa design principles until I started connecting them to what I was learning about creating calming spaces for my kids. It started when I stumbled across an article about a local wellness center that completely transformed their treatment rooms, and honestly, the before-and-after photos made me realize why so many “relaxing” spaces – including parts of our own house – feel more stressful than soothing.
The article talked about this business owner who kept trying different color schemes – those predictable beiges and sage greens you see everywhere – but couldn’t figure out why the spaces still felt “clinical and cold.” Sound familiar? That was basically our master bathroom before we renovated it. We’d painted it in what the paint store called “spa blue,” added some generic art prints, but it still felt more like a doctor’s office than somewhere you’d want to unwind after dealing with two kids all day.
What really caught my attention was how they approached the problem. Instead of just focusing on what looked relaxing, they started thinking about what actually makes people feel restored. The owner mentioned visiting her grandmother’s old sunroom – nothing fancy, just windows, plants, and furniture that had been worn smooth by years of use, but somehow time seemed to move differently there.
That’s when it clicked for me. The spaces where my kids naturally calm down aren’t necessarily the ones I decorated to be “calming.” My daughter gravitates toward the window seat in her room where light filters through the tree outside. My son settles down fastest in our kitchen nook where he can hear water running and see the garden through the window while he does homework.
I started researching what made those spaces work and found myself deep in articles about biophilic design principles – the same stuff I’d been reading about for kids’ environments, but applied specifically to creating truly restorative spaces for adults. Turns out our nervous systems respond to certain environmental cues whether we’re six or forty-six.
The water feature thing was a revelation. Every spa you visit has some kind of fountain or waterfall, right? But most of them sound like industrial white noise machines. I started paying attention to the sounds my kids find soothing – gentle rain on our roof, the small fountain we installed in the backyard, even the dishwasher running with its rhythm of filling and draining.
When we redid our bathroom, instead of installing one of those standard shower systems, we researched rainfall showerheads that actually sound like rain. Found one that creates these variable flow patterns instead of that harsh, constant spray. Cost a bit more, but the difference in how it feels to shower at the end of a long day is incredible. My wife, who was skeptical about my “weird shower research phase,” admitted it actually does feel more relaxing.
Lighting was another game-changer. I’d been reading about circadian rhythms for my son’s ADHD management, and realized our bathroom had the worst possible lighting setup – harsh LED bulbs that made everyone look terrible and felt nothing like natural light. We installed dimmer switches and warmer bulbs for evening routines, brighter but softer lighting for mornings. Nothing fancy or expensive, just bulbs that actually shift with the time of day instead of blasting the same harsh light at 6am and 10pm.
The texture and materials part got me thinking about why certain spaces in our house feel more comfortable than others. Our living room has this old leather chair my wife inherited – worn soft from decades of use, and it absorbs heat differently than our modern furniture. My kids both gravitate toward it when they’re feeling overwhelmed. Meanwhile, our formal dining room with all matching furniture feels cold and unwelcoming, even though it’s technically prettier.
For the bathroom renovation, we used reclaimed wood for shelving and kept our existing tile floors instead of replacing them with something that looked more “spa-like.” The wood warms up throughout the day and actually smells faintly cedar-like when it heats up from the shower steam. The tile stays cool in the morning, which feels amazing on bare feet, but warms up by evening. These weren’t conscious design choices initially – we were just trying to save money – but the temperature variations make the space feel more alive somehow.
Plants were obvious after all my research for the kids’ rooms, but I got more strategic about placement. Instead of just sticking a generic plant on the counter, I chose ones that actually respond to their environment. The snake plant by the window grows noticeably toward the light. Added some eucalyptus that releases scent when the shower steam hits it. Nothing high-maintenance since I’m definitely not winning any plant parent awards, but species that change and grow instead of just sitting there looking static.
The results were honestly better than I expected, and I started noticing similar patterns in other areas of our house. The spaces that feel truly restorative aren’t necessarily the ones that look like magazine photos – they’re the ones with natural light patterns, gentle sounds, materials that feel good to touch, and plants or other natural elements that change over time.
What’s interesting is watching how my kids respond to these changes. They both spend more time in our renovated bathroom now, not just for necessary tasks but actually choosing to hang out there. My daughter reads in the bathtub for longer periods. My son uses the counter space for art projects because the light is good and he likes being near the plants.
I started applying these same principles to other areas where we wanted more calming environments. Our bedroom was another disaster zone – no natural light in the mornings, synthetic everything, harsh overhead lighting. We couldn’t afford a major renovation, but we added sheer curtains to let in morning light while maintaining privacy, switched to linen bedding that breathes better and feels softer over time, and added some low-maintenance plants that don’t mind lower light.
The key insight from all this research is that true restoration isn’t just psychological – it’s biological. Our bodies actually respond measurably to certain environmental conditions, whether we consciously notice them or not. Spaces with natural light patterns help regulate sleep cycles. Variable sounds like gentle water help slow breathing. Natural materials that change temperature and texture throughout the day engage our senses in ways that synthetic alternatives can’t.
This isn’t just useful for bathrooms and bedrooms, either. I’ve been slowly applying these principles to our home office space, the playroom, even our front entryway. The goal isn’t to make everything look like a spa, but to create environments that actively support wellbeing instead of working against it.
The most successful changes have been the ones where I stopped thinking about “what looks relaxing” and started considering “what actually makes people feel restored.” Sometimes that means incorporating live plants that clean the air and provide visual interest. Sometimes it’s using natural materials that age and weather in interesting ways. Often it’s just creating spaces where you can see outside and watch weather patterns instead of being cut off from natural light entirely.
The real test isn’t whether a space looks good in photos – it’s whether people’s stress levels actually decrease when they’re there. Whether kids naturally choose to spend time in those areas. Whether adults feel genuinely refreshed instead of just temporarily distracted from stress. That’s the kind of restoration our homes should be providing, and honestly, it’s not that complicated to achieve once you start thinking about environments the way nature designed them instead of the way decorating magazines suggest they should look.
David is a dad of two who started caring about design after realizing how much their home environment affected his kids’ moods and sleep. He writes about family-friendly, budget-friendly ways to bring natural light, plants, and outdoor play back into everyday life.
