We're all trying to adjust
Monday I went to Beth’s house again to pack some more. If I were the psychoanalytical type, I’d wonder why I haven’t moved all my stuff out yet. But I’m not. As Beth says, I’m just lazy.
Then I went to Target to gets some more stuff. Pots and pans. A DVD/VCR player. It’s amazing how much stuff you need to have a house. Beth asked me if I wanted to fire up the grill and have a cookout. We did. So the Memorial Day holiday weekend we ate together, and I went home afterwards.
Before I left, the boy was excited to spend the night with me some night. “We can do things that mom doesn’t let us do!” he said.
“Most of the rules are the same in both houses, sweetie,” I reminded him.
“What time is bedtime at your house?” he asked.
“Same as Mom’s house. Eight o’clock.”
This morning the boy woke me up. I have a feeling this is going to be his thing from now on. We (he and I) had talked about him spending the night with me on Wednesday. That’s the day I pick him up from school, take him to the after school thing, and then we have sushi for dinner.
Beth didn’t think he was ready to spend the night. She wanted to wait until Saturday night when there would be nothing pressing the following day.
We went around and around on this all day. I’m willing to handle his anxiety but hers? Not so much.
The compromise we came up with was that tomorrow we would get sushi at the Whole Foods and bring it back to my house and have a pajama party. That’s what he and the boy next door used to do. They’d get together in the evening, put on their pajamas, and watch a video. Then the neighbor would go home, and the boy would go up to bed. It was kind of a sleepover without the trauma.
So that’s what we’ll do tomorrow. A pajama party.
When we were talking tonight, Beth and I were almost friendly.