We hosted my sweetie’s son over at the New House this weekend
This was no mean feat.
After all that had gone on this spring (namely, by alcoholic sweetie falling off the wagon), his ex was considerably wary of letting him have time alone with his son. I can understand, certainly. The Little Guy is her only child, her pride and joy, and even though I’m not a Mom…I can empathize how hard it must be for her to trust J.
On the other hand, as someone whose Dad totally dropped the ball, I can’t help thinking that The Ex doesn’t know how good she has it. J has been as good as possible with his financial responsibilities, and tries like hell to be a part of the Little Guy’s life. I can’t tell you how many women I’ve come in contact with that wish the fathers of their kids would actually..oh…I don’t know…give a shit.
Ok, done with the rant-ola.
I was really, really nervous about the Little Guy spending the night. I wanted everything to be fun and OK, you know? I wanted to be just the right part of helpful, but yet a bit removed so J could have as much time with the Little Guy as possible. I had forgotten that J’s son is an awesome kid. He’s well adjusted, and adores his dad.
The two guys had fun at the Mexican restaurant where we ate dinner, and then retired to the spare room to put together a telescope. We all took turns looking at the Moon. It. Was. AMAZING. I love the moon anyway, but to see its craters in real time was a blast.
There was ice cream and Operation and omelets and silly stories (don’t poop at Pizza Hut!). I had a great time, and I think the men in my life did too.
But damn, kids are tiring. Who knew?