I like Sunday evening dinner. It's a nice end to the weekend, gives us a chance to connect as a family and gives me much needed leftovers to kick off the week.
Second Born Son was going to miss Sunday evening dinner. He was happily kidnapped after his hockey game by a fellow player's family. A mis-read of the clock meant the "hour to two" visit was only going to be 20 minutes, unless, that is, he could accompany his friend to his sister's hockey game.
I did pause. I do like Sunday evening dinner. But then I realized, sometimes, you just have to mix it up. I agreed that he could go.
"Thank you," said the friend's mom. "He said he would like to stay. He said "The boxes are stressing me out!"
She laughed. So did I, except I knew he really felt that way. All week he's been like a little clock, but instead of winding down, he's tightening up. He's picking fights, being moody and more than a little cheeky. For the first time in many months, he's been sent to his room for a time-out. Did I mention he's three weeks away from being 10? Thanks an entirely seperate entry.
First Born Son is coping in his own way. He's become very clingy. Lots of hugs - all the time. This wouldn't be such a stretch, except for the fact that he's come off a year where he would pull away from you if you even suggested a hug.
With the last four days ahead of us, moving has been real, and at the same time, surreal. I can't imagine living anywhere else, yet I can't stop imagining what it will be like in a new home.
Where home used to be a place we could relax and find refuge, it has now become a place where we can't catch our breath or find our space. our personal items are being removed. We are losing our hold on this home.
So yes, SBS missed Sunday dinner. But it's ok, it's what he needed to do. Sometimes, you just do what gets you through.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Mixing Business with Pleasure
As she speaks I'm scolding myself for allowing my eyes to drift around the room.
What will that wall look like in Spanish Moss? Would the TV work where she has hers, or should I get some wiring put in at the other end?
It's surreal that I'm here at all - a moment of bravery/stupidity and suddenly I'm in the door of the "new" house with the "old" owner. What started out as a simple business discussion quickly became a social call, and I wasn't minding in the least.
While it was easy for me to envision what the floor would look like without the shag carpet, it was much more difficult for me to imagine her husband supervising the construction of the house. Mostly because I've never met him. She tells me the stories that made this house her home; how her husband made a statement with a load of poor quality lumber; how he chose a rounded arch to make their entrance unique. He sounds like a man after my own heart. She stops herself to show me a feature of the windows, top of the line in their day - and are still in great condition.
The longer I'm there, the less I feel like positioning my furniture in my mind and more like I'm being given a great opportunity that I should appreciate.
We chat about the auction sale the weekend before and although she's interested to know that some things did go to "good" owners, you can tell it pains her to talk too much about the life she had being sold off. We laugh over the fact that I bought a desk that belonged to her husband.
"Had I known, we could have just left it here for you!" she smiles.
Personal posessions not needed or wanted went to the highest bidder. The accordions her husband treasured hadn't been around as long as I thought. He bought two of them second hand and only one was new. He taught himself how to play at the age of 60. I'm admiring the two of them more and more. He would sit on the front porch and serenade the neighbor, because he actually could play well.
She speaks of her daughters and how helpful they have been. The packing and cleaning and organizing they have done to help her in her transition from their family home to a modest two bedroom apartment. She would move closer to them, if it weren't for the fact that he's still in town and in a nursing home. He counts on her visits and looks forward to seeing her. Their 56-year marriage is tested by Alzheimers but she's willing to be near him as long as she can.
I'm stunned when she tells me her age - turning 82 in December. She doesn't look it, until we stand to seek out another feature of the house. Her hip and knee have tightened up, making walking difficult. In spite of my protests to return to the couch, she insists on showing me all of the thermostats, as well as the quality cleaning job she has done on the Rec room. Was there ever any doubt?
From time to time we talk about what The Big Guy and I plan to do with the house - mostly redecorating. She apologizes for the dated appearance but we agree it would be pointless to go to the expense of painting only to sell and have someone change it to suit their tastes. I gauge her reaction to things and carefully redirect the conversation to her when I see there's a saddness to her. It can only be expected, but after her generosity, I don't want to be thoughtless of her feelings.
She then tells me how the kitchen is one of the warmest rooms of the house, thanks to the oven and the southern exposure with a large window and sliding glass doors. While she is warm blooded, she would often seek refuge in the cooler living room to the north. I find myself daydreaming about baking on a Sunday afternoon, sunlight flooding the kitchen and it's warmth keeping me toasty as well. In my current kitchen, I get sun only late in the day through one window that faces West.
At some point we discussed the business - the purpose of my visit, and while she never offers me a refreshment, it was obvious she was not keen for our time to end, following me down the stairs and out the door. She shared more stories about the house and the flower beds. By now it's dark out and for the first time I see the view of the town with the lights on. My house on the hill has a beautiful view during the day, but it never occurred to me how lovely it would be at night.
Before I leave I extend an invitiation.
"Things are going to be crazy the next couple of weeks, so I'll say this now. If you would ever like to come back to the house, and see what we've done, you are welcome to do so. I know you might not want to, and I would totally understand that."
Her face lights up and while there is still a sadness to it, I can see she is considering it. If she never comes, I wouldn't blame her. You can't ever really go back. I don't know that I would have any great desire to see in our old home again.
The next day, I'm packing with my Mother and she's commenting on the various attributes of the little house we are leaving. How much we've improved the property and put ourselves in to it.
"You'll miss your oak cupboards," she says, removing pots from a lower cupboard.
"No, I don't think I will," I reply, instead thinking of the sunlight kitchen, the house with a history and a home with a view.
What will that wall look like in Spanish Moss? Would the TV work where she has hers, or should I get some wiring put in at the other end?
It's surreal that I'm here at all - a moment of bravery/stupidity and suddenly I'm in the door of the "new" house with the "old" owner. What started out as a simple business discussion quickly became a social call, and I wasn't minding in the least.
While it was easy for me to envision what the floor would look like without the shag carpet, it was much more difficult for me to imagine her husband supervising the construction of the house. Mostly because I've never met him. She tells me the stories that made this house her home; how her husband made a statement with a load of poor quality lumber; how he chose a rounded arch to make their entrance unique. He sounds like a man after my own heart. She stops herself to show me a feature of the windows, top of the line in their day - and are still in great condition.
The longer I'm there, the less I feel like positioning my furniture in my mind and more like I'm being given a great opportunity that I should appreciate.
We chat about the auction sale the weekend before and although she's interested to know that some things did go to "good" owners, you can tell it pains her to talk too much about the life she had being sold off. We laugh over the fact that I bought a desk that belonged to her husband.
"Had I known, we could have just left it here for you!" she smiles.
Personal posessions not needed or wanted went to the highest bidder. The accordions her husband treasured hadn't been around as long as I thought. He bought two of them second hand and only one was new. He taught himself how to play at the age of 60. I'm admiring the two of them more and more. He would sit on the front porch and serenade the neighbor, because he actually could play well.
She speaks of her daughters and how helpful they have been. The packing and cleaning and organizing they have done to help her in her transition from their family home to a modest two bedroom apartment. She would move closer to them, if it weren't for the fact that he's still in town and in a nursing home. He counts on her visits and looks forward to seeing her. Their 56-year marriage is tested by Alzheimers but she's willing to be near him as long as she can.
I'm stunned when she tells me her age - turning 82 in December. She doesn't look it, until we stand to seek out another feature of the house. Her hip and knee have tightened up, making walking difficult. In spite of my protests to return to the couch, she insists on showing me all of the thermostats, as well as the quality cleaning job she has done on the Rec room. Was there ever any doubt?
From time to time we talk about what The Big Guy and I plan to do with the house - mostly redecorating. She apologizes for the dated appearance but we agree it would be pointless to go to the expense of painting only to sell and have someone change it to suit their tastes. I gauge her reaction to things and carefully redirect the conversation to her when I see there's a saddness to her. It can only be expected, but after her generosity, I don't want to be thoughtless of her feelings.
She then tells me how the kitchen is one of the warmest rooms of the house, thanks to the oven and the southern exposure with a large window and sliding glass doors. While she is warm blooded, she would often seek refuge in the cooler living room to the north. I find myself daydreaming about baking on a Sunday afternoon, sunlight flooding the kitchen and it's warmth keeping me toasty as well. In my current kitchen, I get sun only late in the day through one window that faces West.
At some point we discussed the business - the purpose of my visit, and while she never offers me a refreshment, it was obvious she was not keen for our time to end, following me down the stairs and out the door. She shared more stories about the house and the flower beds. By now it's dark out and for the first time I see the view of the town with the lights on. My house on the hill has a beautiful view during the day, but it never occurred to me how lovely it would be at night.
Before I leave I extend an invitiation.
"Things are going to be crazy the next couple of weeks, so I'll say this now. If you would ever like to come back to the house, and see what we've done, you are welcome to do so. I know you might not want to, and I would totally understand that."
Her face lights up and while there is still a sadness to it, I can see she is considering it. If she never comes, I wouldn't blame her. You can't ever really go back. I don't know that I would have any great desire to see in our old home again.
The next day, I'm packing with my Mother and she's commenting on the various attributes of the little house we are leaving. How much we've improved the property and put ourselves in to it.
"You'll miss your oak cupboards," she says, removing pots from a lower cupboard.
"No, I don't think I will," I reply, instead thinking of the sunlight kitchen, the house with a history and a home with a view.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Treading water, but just barely....
This one is for Susan - who said "What's going on with the blog?" and to which I responded - "I HAVEN'T HAD TIME!" and for that I'm truly sorry....
The only way to do this right is to catch everyone up on the past two months which honestly seems like the blink of an eye, when I look back on it. Forgive me if break this up, because at some point, you'll want to sleep or eat or at least use the plumbing.
Mid August, the fam goes on holidays. We need to get away from the stress of the house selling and we decide to do something equally stressful - buy hockey equipment. On the way home to another ball game, one of the boys decides we should go camping. Sure, great idea, we can pitch the tent in the back yard...
"NO MOM - we mean REAL camping!" It was like Surround Sound. So, with a game ahead of me, the camping gear packed away and The Big Guy ready to book a site at a nearby campground, I realize, we should maybe let our realtor know we will be away from civilization for 48 hours. Make a mental note to call in the morning - as I will be up to midnight shopping (thank GOD for 24 hour grocery stores)and packing clothes.
Naturally, I forget to call said realtor in the morning, but instead he calls US! There's another offer on the second house we bid on and now we have to fish or cut bait. We know we want this house BAD, so we put the offer in and hope for the best. The Realtor says we should have an answer by the end of the day.
So by 10 a.m. we are off for our camping adventure - all the while laughing about what we might do with the house if we get it.
"You really shouldn't do that you know," pipes up Second Born Son.
"Do what?" I ask
"Get your hopes up, you'll only be disappointed if it doesn't work out." he replies.
I'm gobsmacked. We just got schooled by the 9 year old.
We set up our site, discuss our plan for the day and eat lunch. After some splash time in the river, we head out for a walk about the park. It's a 45 minute hike and we are on the way back to our site when we look across the valley and see a car remarkably familiar heading down the remote lane to our little campsite. It's the realtor's car.
The Big Guy and I look at each other - not a good sign - it's only been two hours and why would he come all the way here unless it was bad news? We are disappointed and the walk seems much longer as we find our way back to the little tent by the river. WRONG - it's GREAT news - we got the house, he brought the paperwork for us to finalize the deal and initial some minor changes. The camping adventure goes from fun to depressing to FREAKIN' AWESOME. The down side is - we won't move until Nov. 12 - and oh ya, we have to sell our house.
Now my sister had a philosophy. She said the offer on the first house didn't go through with our conditional sale because she feels we were buying the wrong house. So within 10 days of putting an offer on the second house, we have not one, but THREE offers on our little house. It's a whirlwind as we sit with offers around us and The Big Guy is in his glory because, yes people, THIS is what a Bidding War is all about.
In the end the deal is done, we are moving and just when we think there is SOOOO much time, it's back to school, hockey tryouts and just dealing with every day life.
...and it's two months later!
The only way to do this right is to catch everyone up on the past two months which honestly seems like the blink of an eye, when I look back on it. Forgive me if break this up, because at some point, you'll want to sleep or eat or at least use the plumbing.
Mid August, the fam goes on holidays. We need to get away from the stress of the house selling and we decide to do something equally stressful - buy hockey equipment. On the way home to another ball game, one of the boys decides we should go camping. Sure, great idea, we can pitch the tent in the back yard...
"NO MOM - we mean REAL camping!" It was like Surround Sound. So, with a game ahead of me, the camping gear packed away and The Big Guy ready to book a site at a nearby campground, I realize, we should maybe let our realtor know we will be away from civilization for 48 hours. Make a mental note to call in the morning - as I will be up to midnight shopping (thank GOD for 24 hour grocery stores)and packing clothes.
Naturally, I forget to call said realtor in the morning, but instead he calls US! There's another offer on the second house we bid on and now we have to fish or cut bait. We know we want this house BAD, so we put the offer in and hope for the best. The Realtor says we should have an answer by the end of the day.
So by 10 a.m. we are off for our camping adventure - all the while laughing about what we might do with the house if we get it.
"You really shouldn't do that you know," pipes up Second Born Son.
"Do what?" I ask
"Get your hopes up, you'll only be disappointed if it doesn't work out." he replies.
I'm gobsmacked. We just got schooled by the 9 year old.
We set up our site, discuss our plan for the day and eat lunch. After some splash time in the river, we head out for a walk about the park. It's a 45 minute hike and we are on the way back to our site when we look across the valley and see a car remarkably familiar heading down the remote lane to our little campsite. It's the realtor's car.
The Big Guy and I look at each other - not a good sign - it's only been two hours and why would he come all the way here unless it was bad news? We are disappointed and the walk seems much longer as we find our way back to the little tent by the river. WRONG - it's GREAT news - we got the house, he brought the paperwork for us to finalize the deal and initial some minor changes. The camping adventure goes from fun to depressing to FREAKIN' AWESOME. The down side is - we won't move until Nov. 12 - and oh ya, we have to sell our house.
Now my sister had a philosophy. She said the offer on the first house didn't go through with our conditional sale because she feels we were buying the wrong house. So within 10 days of putting an offer on the second house, we have not one, but THREE offers on our little house. It's a whirlwind as we sit with offers around us and The Big Guy is in his glory because, yes people, THIS is what a Bidding War is all about.
In the end the deal is done, we are moving and just when we think there is SOOOO much time, it's back to school, hockey tryouts and just dealing with every day life.
...and it's two months later!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Get Your Head in the Game
I've been assistant coach for First Born Son's ball team for many years now - like far too many to be honest.
I wasn't going to do it this year, but let's just say I was put in a "position". What amazes me is that in spite of all the skills a player may have and the practicing and drills a coach may run, little if any time is given to the "Mind Game".
That's usually what I bring to the table.
You can practice bunting all you want. You can have the best change-up in the league. You can launch a ball off a bat that burns up in the earth's atmosphere. But your head isn't the right place at the right time, you are SCREWED.
I've seen this too many times to mention. Lots of attention is paid to correcting a stance or perfecting a technique, but little if you are having a mental block at the plate - well, you just better get yourself out of that funk.
Huh?
The brain operates all of the other functions of the body. If your head is busy doubting that you can perform at the plate, your arms won't make it happen.
Never more was this demonstrated than in last night's game. We were facing a rival who has just come off of a B-Side Championship. It's a solid team but not indestructible.
First inning was stellar - we hit well and fielded expertly. We scored two runs and didn't let them near home plate. As the game progresses, there's a bit of bad luck with bad bounces and some near-miss moments, but the team is still positive and talking it up.
Then our catcher, who is physically likely one of the most co-ordinated and has loads of strength, launches a ball down the third-base line over the head of the third baseman. Why? He wanted the out at third, however, the runner wasn't off the bag. But you can bet for damn sure he was when that ball sailed deep into left field.
This pisses off the catcher, who yips at the baseman. The only person who speaks to him is the coach - who sets the record straight about the play - but in essence the catcher doesn't appreciate the dynamic of the play and he stays in a funk.
The next inning, the catcher is still in a foul mood and when the short stop has a messy catch and throw to first, he snaps and calls him out for it.
THAT is when we lost the game.
The coach marches out and speaks to catcher about his negativity and tries to build up the team. But the damage is done. We might as well have walked off the field.
I've tried to explain to players and coaches alike that you can't pound someone over the head repeatedly and then expect them to perform like a full-fledge member of the team.
Kick a dog enough times, and he'll bit you.
Here's hoping we can teach an old dog new tricks before we face this team again Monday night.
I wasn't going to do it this year, but let's just say I was put in a "position". What amazes me is that in spite of all the skills a player may have and the practicing and drills a coach may run, little if any time is given to the "Mind Game".
That's usually what I bring to the table.
You can practice bunting all you want. You can have the best change-up in the league. You can launch a ball off a bat that burns up in the earth's atmosphere. But your head isn't the right place at the right time, you are SCREWED.
I've seen this too many times to mention. Lots of attention is paid to correcting a stance or perfecting a technique, but little if you are having a mental block at the plate - well, you just better get yourself out of that funk.
Huh?
The brain operates all of the other functions of the body. If your head is busy doubting that you can perform at the plate, your arms won't make it happen.
Never more was this demonstrated than in last night's game. We were facing a rival who has just come off of a B-Side Championship. It's a solid team but not indestructible.
First inning was stellar - we hit well and fielded expertly. We scored two runs and didn't let them near home plate. As the game progresses, there's a bit of bad luck with bad bounces and some near-miss moments, but the team is still positive and talking it up.
Then our catcher, who is physically likely one of the most co-ordinated and has loads of strength, launches a ball down the third-base line over the head of the third baseman. Why? He wanted the out at third, however, the runner wasn't off the bag. But you can bet for damn sure he was when that ball sailed deep into left field.
This pisses off the catcher, who yips at the baseman. The only person who speaks to him is the coach - who sets the record straight about the play - but in essence the catcher doesn't appreciate the dynamic of the play and he stays in a funk.
The next inning, the catcher is still in a foul mood and when the short stop has a messy catch and throw to first, he snaps and calls him out for it.
THAT is when we lost the game.
The coach marches out and speaks to catcher about his negativity and tries to build up the team. But the damage is done. We might as well have walked off the field.
I've tried to explain to players and coaches alike that you can't pound someone over the head repeatedly and then expect them to perform like a full-fledge member of the team.
Kick a dog enough times, and he'll bit you.
Here's hoping we can teach an old dog new tricks before we face this team again Monday night.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
We can wrap this up...any time now.....
So two months into the adventure that is selling a house and the ride is still like a roller coaster.
We've had a showing a week, save for two weeks, and we have conditionally sold the house. We are waiting for the buyer to sell his home - and although he's had viewings, the offers aren't there yet.
So we keep showing the house. The Big Guy is awesome about it - even taking the idea of Staging a home so it's in it's best "light". The boys are terrific - making sure that they keep things cleaned up between the time we finish the actual cleaning and the arrival of the prospective buyers. Not an idyllic way to spend a summer!
Take today for example. We were called yesterday for an 11:30 a.m.-12:30 p.m. showing today. Totally jazzed, we get the place shining. The boys have a list of things to check on before they head out for the viewing. At 8:45 a.m., First Born Son calls me at work to say the real estate agent left a message cancelling the viewing.
I call the office and reception tells me that the buyer's mother had a heart attack, therefore, they won't be coming to see the house. Well - that's life. No one could blame them for not coming. The house looks awesome, but it's all for naught.
Speed up to 11:30 a.m. There's an urgent message from reception at the real estate office saying "CALL ME!!!" Another couple would like to see the house - can they get in ASAP. I call the boys who are just sitting down to eat. Fortunately, they finished their list of jobs before the cancellation call came in. Now they have to inhale their lunch and head to public swimming early to be clear of the viewing.
Not a easy way to go about things.
The other night Second Born Son said to me "I can't wait until the sign says SOLD, Mom." "Me too!" I told him. The summer is flying by and the weather is gorgeous, but it seems like we are in our Sunday finest every day. Just last weekend we had friends in for dinner - the first time all summer!
Here's hoping our patience pays off - we'd love to reclaim some summer relaxation!
Friday, July 23, 2010
Spreading the Good Word - of a fashion
There are some things you never discuss in polite conversation, Politics and Religion are usually at the top of that list.
Ironically, I feel I can talk about just about anything with anyone. It's HOW you talk about it that determines the success of the conversation. You can believe whatever you want, and we can share our opinions, but I'm not going to cram anything down your throat and in spite of how hard you may try, you won't be cramming anything down mine! Maybe we'll both learn something.
So when it comes to how a person demonstrates their faith, you could consider me more of a behind the scenes kind of gal, rather than a front and centre with a spotlight.
I absolutely believe in God. And Jesus. And even if you want to argue the validity of the Bible, I would suggest the meaning is there, if the message seems to be a bit handed down.
For me, living my belief is most important. Case in point.
Got my new truck (Santa Fe) back in February. Two weeks later, I bump (literally - a gentle slide) into another vehicle on an icy street when I'm backing out of a driveway. It was parked and unattended. I got out and had a look. I take pictures (because I always seem to have my camera around at the right time - lol!) and go to the house. I give the owner the info - it's a young mother and she's almost in tears, so grateful that I've come in to "confess" and not simply drive off.
I get home. The Big Guy is understandably upset. He says "Why didn't you just drive away if no one saw you?? Do you know how much this is going to cost?!?" (Keep in mind we have JUST bought the truck, taxes are due and both boys have $$ hockey tournaments around the corner - oh, ya and my sister is getting married in two months...) I look him calmly in the eye and say "Because that wasn't the Christian thing to do!"
I told him about the young mom and how I figure we can afford to fix her car easier than she can, and I simply couldn't expect to raise my kids to do the "right" thing, if I couldn't. IMMEDIATELY, he felt SO bad for what he had said, admitted it was likely the proper thing to do, but was still sullen about it.
The upside....(read here - GOD AT WORK) the body man agreed to fix both vehicles at COST! $100 for mine (it's a tank - you can't hurt it) and $500 for hers. It would have EASILY been $3,000 at full price and our insurance would have been impacted if we claimed it. In the end - doing the RIGHT thing was cheaper!!! THAT is my belief. THAT is what I feel I need to do to spread "The Word". My husband, my children, my family will know how to do what God would want us to do - and hopefully others will see what we do and will conduct themselves accordingly.
The Gospel According to Me...now where's the Offering Plate?!
Ironically, I feel I can talk about just about anything with anyone. It's HOW you talk about it that determines the success of the conversation. You can believe whatever you want, and we can share our opinions, but I'm not going to cram anything down your throat and in spite of how hard you may try, you won't be cramming anything down mine! Maybe we'll both learn something.
So when it comes to how a person demonstrates their faith, you could consider me more of a behind the scenes kind of gal, rather than a front and centre with a spotlight.
I absolutely believe in God. And Jesus. And even if you want to argue the validity of the Bible, I would suggest the meaning is there, if the message seems to be a bit handed down.
For me, living my belief is most important. Case in point.
Got my new truck (Santa Fe) back in February. Two weeks later, I bump (literally - a gentle slide) into another vehicle on an icy street when I'm backing out of a driveway. It was parked and unattended. I got out and had a look. I take pictures (because I always seem to have my camera around at the right time - lol!) and go to the house. I give the owner the info - it's a young mother and she's almost in tears, so grateful that I've come in to "confess" and not simply drive off.
I get home. The Big Guy is understandably upset. He says "Why didn't you just drive away if no one saw you?? Do you know how much this is going to cost?!?" (Keep in mind we have JUST bought the truck, taxes are due and both boys have $$ hockey tournaments around the corner - oh, ya and my sister is getting married in two months...) I look him calmly in the eye and say "Because that wasn't the Christian thing to do!"
I told him about the young mom and how I figure we can afford to fix her car easier than she can, and I simply couldn't expect to raise my kids to do the "right" thing, if I couldn't. IMMEDIATELY, he felt SO bad for what he had said, admitted it was likely the proper thing to do, but was still sullen about it.
The upside....(read here - GOD AT WORK) the body man agreed to fix both vehicles at COST! $100 for mine (it's a tank - you can't hurt it) and $500 for hers. It would have EASILY been $3,000 at full price and our insurance would have been impacted if we claimed it. In the end - doing the RIGHT thing was cheaper!!! THAT is my belief. THAT is what I feel I need to do to spread "The Word". My husband, my children, my family will know how to do what God would want us to do - and hopefully others will see what we do and will conduct themselves accordingly.
The Gospel According to Me...now where's the Offering Plate?!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
In Praise of the Momma Bear
A friend of mine is hurting right now.
Without coming out with an "I told you so", I'm trying to be as supportive as I can. It involves her daughter and a relationship she is just getting out of. The boy she was with is a complex character - he's hurt other people, including First Born Son with his unique talent of bullying and mind games.
When my friend told me last fall they were an "item" she asked me about him. Without hesitation I said "Remember all that stuff I told you happened to FBS and that other kid....HE was the OTHER KID!"
Now there were two options here. She could have said "Dear Gawd, I'll put an end to this at once!" or "Well, let's see how this plays out." She chose the latter since she felt strongly about developing her own opinions and experiences with this teen.
I admitt - I've done this myself. Just because you've had a problem with someone, doesn't mean that I will. Maybe you were hitting him/her the wrong way. Maybe there are other people involved in the problem you are having? Who knows!
But in a more severe case as this, I hope I would be open to listening to someone else's advice. The sad part is, a relationship between these two kids has hurt the friendship between her daughter and FBS as well as strained the friendship the mother and I enjoyed.
Be that as it may - it's over now. The boy in question has now moved into familiar territory, name calling, rallying the troups, poisoning friendships and being hurtful to this girl in particular. Why did things change? Because he found out she was friends with a boy he didn't think she should be friends with! Yes, control issues can be evident before the age of 16!!!
The girl has moved on and is "dating" a boy who is much more stable, low-key and genuinely cares for her. We all know this is supposed to be a carefree time in a kid's life, but the antics of the past few weeks has put a cloud over this girl.
Hopefully she'll learn from the experience and not repeat her mistakes. Because her Ex is bound to repeat them...
Without coming out with an "I told you so", I'm trying to be as supportive as I can. It involves her daughter and a relationship she is just getting out of. The boy she was with is a complex character - he's hurt other people, including First Born Son with his unique talent of bullying and mind games.
When my friend told me last fall they were an "item" she asked me about him. Without hesitation I said "Remember all that stuff I told you happened to FBS and that other kid....HE was the OTHER KID!"
Now there were two options here. She could have said "Dear Gawd, I'll put an end to this at once!" or "Well, let's see how this plays out." She chose the latter since she felt strongly about developing her own opinions and experiences with this teen.
I admitt - I've done this myself. Just because you've had a problem with someone, doesn't mean that I will. Maybe you were hitting him/her the wrong way. Maybe there are other people involved in the problem you are having? Who knows!
But in a more severe case as this, I hope I would be open to listening to someone else's advice. The sad part is, a relationship between these two kids has hurt the friendship between her daughter and FBS as well as strained the friendship the mother and I enjoyed.
Be that as it may - it's over now. The boy in question has now moved into familiar territory, name calling, rallying the troups, poisoning friendships and being hurtful to this girl in particular. Why did things change? Because he found out she was friends with a boy he didn't think she should be friends with! Yes, control issues can be evident before the age of 16!!!
The girl has moved on and is "dating" a boy who is much more stable, low-key and genuinely cares for her. We all know this is supposed to be a carefree time in a kid's life, but the antics of the past few weeks has put a cloud over this girl.
Hopefully she'll learn from the experience and not repeat her mistakes. Because her Ex is bound to repeat them...
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