When Hipster D was originally pondering what to get Hipster Mom for Christmas, there was only one obvious choice. I have wanted a treadmill for as long as I can remember. This is the first Christmas we have actually had enough room in the house to really consider it. That is, if we finally moved Em out of the master bedroom.

Every parent has a little way they indulge their kids, some go so far as to let them rule the house. For D and I , we let them take over our room. At-man stayed in the nest until his second birthday. He still sneaks inbetween us every night around 1 or 2am. Em had yet to move out, and until the mention of a treadmill there wasn’t any rush.

When we moved into this house, I remember telling D, “This bedroom was actually built for a treadmill.” and I still feel this way. It is WIDE. If you didn’t have a crib, or a treadmill it would look bare and un-home like. Knowing that Em would one day have to move out, I’m sure Hipster D felt almost obligated to find the right fill for the space.

My in-laws have had a perfectly good treadmill taking up much space in their garage for years. We had asked several times if it needed a good home but they held on to the illusion that one day it would again be loved. Finally they decided to give in. D moved on from having to buy a treadmill for Chrsitmas, to buying gift cards to fabulous stores that I want to shop at after a little fine tuning.

I understand that many people receive exercise equipment every holiday season, only to find their love fleeting. I can honestly say, I am like a hamster. I can run in place for hours, just enjoying the break. Our only problem now, the merging of two brothers.

We made the big move tonight. My father in law now actually has enought space to set up his table saw, he’s happy. I can tell my gym to stick it, I’m happy. D knows I am happiest when I am running, he’s happy. The boys are sharing a bedroom. Not so happy.

When we were doing the big furniture shuffle, Em kept walking in our bedroom and laying down on the belt, looking up with those “What’s with the weird new bed?” eyes. When I finally laid him down for the night, he cried until he made himself sick. When I picked him up to clean up the crib, he ran right to my room and once agian, laid down on the treadmill.

At-man declared he will never again have any fun in his room. I replied that I didn’t want him to have fun, I wanted him to sleep. As an only child, I remember dreaming of having a sister to share a room with. I guess we will never really be able to understand each other on this one, but I hope one day they will thank us for forcing the issue.

They are currently both sound asleep in their shared bedroom. D and I will be able to go to sleep in our very own room for the first time in years, but I think that’s how we keep getting into trouble. Stay tuned…