Sleepover Shenanigans

Grady has made a bunch of friends in our neighborhood. It's really the ideal place to live for a kid. The best way to explain it is there is one large road that cars can drive on that goes in a circle. This is how you get to your house. In the middle of the circle is one great big gigantic park that's maintained by our homeowner association. It's massive and beautiful with gorgeous flowers and winding paths that you can walk forever. Believe me, I know this because you have to walk forever to get Lennox to knock off for a nap sometimes.

Anyway, since there isn't any traffic to worry about, the neighborhood kids are allowed to play together and and have free reign over acres and acres of land. I make Grady carry his cell phone so I can keep tabs on him (although his frequent butt-dials tend to get obnoxious) and sometimes it's the only form of communication I have with him all day, aside from him stopping in to ask me when he's supposed to eat food again.

I'm not saying an affluent neighborhood equals nice kids, but I will say that all of the kids Grady plays with are respectful and nice, where the kids he played with in Maine acted like they had just been shot up with espresso after undergoing a lobotomy. Mean thing to say? I don't especially care. I don't miss those kids at all.

Even though Grady has made great friends that I'm thrilled to know he's spending time with, the idea of sleepovers still stress me out. I'm leery of other people's kids. What if they don't like the food we serve? What is the proper way to tell someone else's kid to knock it off when they get all rowdy and act like a goon? What if they discover my large cache of automatic weapons? Can I even let them go home after that? The whole thing is very complicated.

SO, when my husband said to Grady last night "Hey, tomorrow you should have Ferdinand spend the night!" I almost looked into a divorce lawyer. I wasn't prepared for this and we're still experimenting with the right dose of Valium to get me through things like this. (I think the right dose is 'all of it' but no one ever listens to me) Then my husband said something about me sleeping in the next day while he handled Lennox and I immediately tabled the divorce idea. I think that horrific week of rollercoaster emotions is coming up anyway, and I assured myself that will be punishment enough.

So, here we are. Ferdinand is playing Xbox with Grady after eating out at a local restaurant that has mediocre food but also an arcade, so we'll probably be going there weekly from now on. Mr. Betty Crocker is out in the kitchen making a batch of his to-die-for cookies and wrangling the boys when they get a little too rowdy.

Me? I'm hiding in my bedroom. I love Ferdinand, he's a great kid, but I need to ease myself into this whole thing. I have a feeling it's going to be a common occurrence around here from now on. Plus someone has to snuggle with this adorable little baby that's snoring in my ear.

And the nice kid spending the night? He isn't named Ferdinand. He actually has a nice name, but I think it's weird to share stuff like that without some kind of release. I should totally type up a release for his parents to sign. How hilarious would that be?

Hey! In addition to making killer cookies, my husband hangs lights pretty nicely. This is the start of our fall-oween outdoor decor. We are the only ones in our neighborhood with outdoor lights, so I'm wondering if we're in some kind of violation of HOA rules. Meh.

Quick Recap

We moved from Maine to the central coast of California.

It was a miserable process that separated my husband and I for a few months while he started work in CA and I wrapped up loose ends in Maine. I hated it and gained a whole new level of respect for military spouses. All set with ever doing that again.

We found a house in an amazing neighborhood that I love.

Aidan is living in Maine during the school year and in California during the summer and holidays. Our family is devastated and Aidan is having immense difficulty with this. Please send positive vibes/thoughts/prayers or whatever you are into. We know this isn't permanent, but it's still very painful. And that's all I plan to say about any of that.

Grady loves California and I am so thankful he has made friends, become involved on Karate and started tutoring other kids at school. He was very unsure about our big move. Now, you would have to hogtie him and knock him out to get him back to Maine.

Lennox is getting big and naughty and cuter every day. The word 'no' is his absolute favorite and makes him giggle, which is adorable and messes up my angry mommy act.

We live really, really close to the ocean. There are some hills between our house and the ocean, which I sincerely appreciate. I have an issue with tsunamis, and those hills? Tsunami shields. I call them that, tsunami shields. I try to do it quietly though, in case my husband is listening. I don't need him trying to slip risperdol into my Diet Coke, thank you very much.



I think that's the major stuff. I didn't really know how to cover the major stuff, so it made it hard to start blogging again. Now it's just a slippery slope.

I just wrote this post at my husband's work. He works at a prison. I'd love to take a picture, but I'd probably be shot on site, and I really have to go grocery shopping later so a bullet wound would be very inconvenient. I'm sorry.