We bought a sandbox for the boys yesterday. Even a year ago that would have been a huge purchase- that’s why we didn’t have one. Yesterday we just went to Wal-Mart and picked one up. It means that that money won’t be going to our savings account or toward debt repayment, but that’s OK one in a while. What I want to avoid is buying them stuff just because we can. I don’t want to try to make up for the years when we couldn’t buy them new toys, in part because it’s not necessary, but also because they were great years, even without lots of new stuff.  They’ve always been clothed and fed and loved.

I’d like for the boys to remember that they can be happy without STUFF.

That said, the sandbox is SUPER fun.

Maybe we’ll go to the library. It’s a long drive, but it’ll kill some time, we can return the books that are due back on Thursday, and I can pay my fines. As long as the boys aren’t too cranky in the car (and that’s iffy these days- Ike’s teething again), we’ll be fine.

Actually, my chiropractor says it’s past time. My lower back’s been a mess since I was pregnant with Simon (almost 5 years) ago, and it’s been really bad lately. I’m picking the boys up less and being careful about how I lift stuff, but now that the crib’s drop-side is “fixed”, it’s impossible for me to get my solid lump of toddler in and out of there without leaning over- and that, my friends, is a recipe for pain.

It’s just too soon for my poor brain. It’s not that I don’t want him to grow up- I can accept that even if I don’t always like it. I’m just not ready for Hurricane Ike to be free in his bedroom, completely un-caged. It’s a terrifying thought! There are toys in there. And books.  There are clothes, people! The child is some kid of mess-making prodigy, and there’s zero chance that he’ll decide to leave that temptation alone and just go to sleep any time soon.

Last night was The First Night. AJ brought Simon’s old toddler bed up from the basement and set it up while I was making supper, and Ike was pretty excited. He loves playing o everyone else’s beds, and now he’s got his own!

It was still a few hours until bedtime at that point- he was just practising.

He went right to bed at bedtime, but we weren’t naive enough to think he was going to stay there. He stayed in bed for a few minutes… and then we heard footsteps. Then the sound of dinky cars hitting the floor. Then the beads-on-wires toy. Then a little hand on the doorknob.

We didn’t want to open the door unless we had to; we didn’t really expect him to go back to bed, but anything’s possible, right? But then he started knocking on the door and saying, “Mama? Mamama? My Mama?” I couldn’t take that, so I went to scoop him back into bed. He was at the door with Humphrey (his ridiculously large hippopotamus) in one arm, and he pushed past me and marched out to the living room. “Haa, Dad!”

Five minutes later he was back in bed. I know the theory is that you should put them straight back to bed, no talking, no cuddling, no nothing, but that doesn’t work for Ike. If he’s crying, he can go for at least an hour without letting up- we’ve never tried for longer. It’s faster to make sure he’s calm and then put him back. That time he stayed in bed for 10 minutes before we heard him knocking. I went in and scooped him back into bed, gave him a kiss, and left- and he ran back to the door crying, knocked and yelled, “DADADADADA!” Clearly, I was now the enemy. Told you it didn’t work! Out to Daddy for comfort, then back to bed. Again.

The next time he came out he sat on the couch with us for a bit, and then I pushed a shelf over beside the bed to block him in. He could have got out at the foot of the bed very easily; I just wanted to keep Humphrey from falling out of the bed and maybe give Ike the feeling of being in his crib. AJ put him back to bed and gave him a bottle of water, and we waited. We heard a few noises, but no crying. An hour later we were reasonably sure he was asleep, and I went to check on him.

The little guy was passed out across the foot of the bed- so close to escape! I hauled him back up to the pillow (NOT good for the back, but what can you do?) and kissed his smooshy cheek. He slept peacefully…

…until 5:20 this morning. Then he was up and about, and there was no way he was going to get back in that bed, thanks very much!

There’s definitely something to be said for a baby cage.

I’m also keeping track of what I’m eating. I’m using SparkPeople.com to track both. I’m not following their meal plans (too much to buy with groceries, and the boys wouldn’t go for the suggested meals), but I am entering everything I eat, and I’m trying to stay within the calorie/protein/fat/carb recommendations they’ve set for me. Eating better hasn’t been easy so far. I made “crustless quiche” last night that tasted pretty good to me, but all three of the boys gagged on the spinach.  Hey, it’s not my favourite food, either, but it’s good for you. I’m hoping that if the little guys will at least try stuff enough times, they’ll learn to like it- or at least tolerate it. The big one… well, I’ve asked him to at least set a good example for the little ones and try three bites of stuff he doesn’t like. I can’t really complain- most of the time he eats whatever I cook and he’s happy with it, even it it’s  bit burned. You know, as long as there’s no broccoli or spinach involved. ‘Cause that’s GROSS.

My in-laws sent me a couple of gift certificates for my birthday, for Wal-Mart and Reitman’s. The Reitman’s one will be staying in my wallet until I’ve actually lost some weight and need new clothes for the summer, but I used the Wal-Mart one yesterday. It was a tough decision- I was tempted to buy a baseball glove so I could join in playing catch out in the yard (Simon has decided that baseball is VERY cool, and he claims he’s “a ‘Ankee!”), but I decided I’d get a lot more use out of a pilates starter set- DVD, exercise ball and resistance band. I actually didn’t need the video, though I’ll probably use it; I just wanted the other stuff so I could do more of the videos on SparkPeople. I’ve done some of the 10-minute cardio videos already (Bootcamp day 1; cardio kickbox for beginners, that kind of stuff), but you need simple equipment for a lot of them. So there you go. That’s my present. I expect that the boys will enjoy the ball at least as much as I do- Ike thinks the ones in the physio area at my chiropractor’s office make GREAT drums. He’s not wrong, you know.

15 pounds by the end of June. That’s the goal. That, and I’m hoping to get more energy, but that’s not happening so far- I’ve been completely exhausted the last 2 weeks, feeling like I’ve been drugged a lot of the time. I’d also like to improve my health; I’ve decided that one of my goals in life is to either live to be old or (if that’s not possible) to be an organ donor. I figure being healthy will increase my chances of either.

On an only-slightly-unrelated note, the stuff I bought yesterday is all pink- the same pink as everything else that supports breast cancer research. It’s a nice colour, but the pump for the ball looks like either a really fancy cake-decorating tool or a weird sex toy. Or possibly a giant nasal aspirator for the Easter bunny. Some things were not meant to be made in pastel colours.

Oh, and if you’re on SparkPeople.com, my user name is MrsEmbers.

The box I mailed to friends in NL last week had a lot of the important stuff- nice-looking clothes that were still in excellent condition, many things my favourites from when my babies were actually babies. Stuff I wouldn’t have given to just anybody.

The first box that’s back in the closet now is stuff I’m saving for when my brother and his wife-to-be decide to have a baby. They have a daughter already, and I assume they still have baby clothes left, but if the next one’s a boy, he might not appreciate having future girlfriends seeing pictures of him wearing his sister’s pink and purple Dora jammies. So in that box we have my favourite little knit outfit Ike wore as a newborn and a couple of footie jammies, plus a few older-baby things: the outfit that Ike wore to his Daddy’s RCMP graduation (SO freaking cute!), the navy blue pea coat the boys both wore the winter they were a year old, a few similar things.

There’s one more box still up there. It’s about half-full with the stuff I can’t bear to get rid of. Most of it is stuff both the boys wore when they were very small, things that make me get all teary when I look at them.

Have you seen those TV shows, like “Clean Sweep” (and I assume 100 others), where they go into people’s houses to clear out their clutter? I know what they’d tell me about those things. I’d say, “there are just so many memories!”, getting all weepy, and they’d say, “But won’t you still have those memories without the THINGS? You memories are in your mind…” blah, blah, blah, etc. etc.

That’s not entirely true, at least not for me. My memory’s not great, and it wasn’t even before the boys came along and gave me the Mommy-brain. It was pretty good at one time, but Depression seems to have destroyed it (it was once so bad I couldn’t remember to go to regular classes, or the difference between Boleslav and Coleslaw in Eastern European history). I’ve learned to write everything down, from appointments to journal entries that remind me that not every day was the same as the one before or after it. Pictures help me remember things we did, details about those days, what Simon’s smile looked like when he was 6 months old. But those things don’t bring the feelings back. Pictures don’t remind me what it felt like when my boys were small enough that one could lie with his head on my shoulder and his little diaper-clad butt resting in one of my hands, or the way their hair smelled after a bath. The journal entries rarely capture what it was like to lie on the bed with a sleeping baby on me, how it felt to rub my hand up and down their backs, so tiny under those soft terry-cloth jammies. The jeans with the uneven wear on the knees are the only thing that really remind how funny Ike was before he was walking, when he hitched around the house, pulling himself with one leg, dragging the other. When I see and touch those few old things, I remember.

And yes, it makes me sad. When Simon was little-but-getting-bigger, I felt that way and wanted another little baby. I enjoyed seeing Simon growing up and would never have traded bigger Simon for little baby Simon, but I wanted to do it again with his little brother or sister. I don’t feel that way now. I don’t want another baby, and I can’t say I miss everything about the early days- the cuddles were so nice, but I can do without the painful feedings, the up-the-back diaper explosions, and the nights when I was waking up every 3 or 4 hours. I know I won’t be doing it again, but it still breaks my heart knowing that my boys will never be that small again- th0se days are really gone forever. I enjoyed every minute of them that I could, but even that doesn’t keep them from slipping away. I will continue to enjoy seeing my boys getting bigger, learning who they are as they grow up, discovering new things to enjoy… but I’ll always wish I could reach for the pause button on life, just for a while.

That stuff won’t sit in a closet forever. One of these days, when I have time (probably around the same time I finally get to work on our family scrap-book and plant a real garden), I’ll cut the clothes up and make a quilt for myself- just a little one I can keep to remind me. Maybe by then it won’t even make me cry.

Yeah, they’re the $15 Wal-Mart ones. I decided that getting something with a pattern just increased the chances I’d get sick of them and want new ones next year, so I went with the blue ones. Now I just need a rain coat, and I’ll be all set for spring!

Yep, them there’s my new boots. Also possibly the greatest knee-high socks on the planet, courtesy of my brother and his fiancee.  I am SO FREAKING COOL.

Not that I had much to say, mind you.

Fix your hat, Dude!

It wasn’t anything fancy. Neither of the boys really likes sandwiches (other than Nutella, and we try not to that too often), so we took cheese and crackers, apple slices and peanut butter, plus water for me and chocolate milk for the boys. It went pretty well- they actually ate a bit before Ike wandered over to the fire pit and brought back some little rocks to toss all over the blanket (and the food). Simon ate more than he usually does for lunch, Ike not as much. Neither of them was interested in trying peanut butter on the apple slices… crazy people! That’s about the only way I like peanut butter. More for me, I guess.

Mmmm... dead grass! YUM!

After that, the boys putzed around the yard, as they’ve been doing for a little while each of the last few days. There’s almost enough space out there that they can stay out of each other’s way; even when they don’t (like when they’re both playing in the pit), they’re starting, once in a while, to play together. Simon tries to boss Ike around, but Ike’s already sure that Simon’s not the boss of him. It’s all good.