I spent a fair amount of time today working on a more substantive post than I usually write these days, but my plan to finish up after bedtime was derailed. Stella had an unplanned early evening nap while I was out of the house, with the result that I just got her to sleep.
I despise early evening naps.
So: instead of my labored-over post, here are some random tidbits for you.
I have been experimenting with moving Stella's bedtime this summer, because we had a return of the wombat sleep habits. It's too demoralizing even to write about, really. Since I moved her bedtime she hasn't been doing that thing where she's awake between 3 and 5 am, but she's not getting enough rest this way. Which leads her to do things like fall asleep on the loveseat at 5:30pm.
I should make an appointment with her doctor, I think, because this has been going on for too long.
When Elwood came home from seeing Macbeth tonight I asked him about the production. How did they handle the moving wood scene? He described it briefly and then said, in mock surprise, "Birnam Wood came to Dunsinane!" In unison we said, "Who'd'a thunk it?" Neither one of us would have said that ten years ago and now we say it simultaneously, unprompted. Marriage is a funny thing.
This weekend I called my son's boss. He wanted parents of underage staff to get in touch to let him know if they could stay for the post-camp party, but I wanted more information about the party before I consented. The post-camp parties after Girl Scout camp ended were memorably rowdy; I wouldn't send my 16yo to something similar.
The camp director seemed vaguely amused (not in a rude way) by my concern that he was going to preside over some sort of bacchanal. There'd be no underage drinking, he assured me.
It's just tricky to know. I always feel socially awkward and overly suspicious when I call a parent whose child has invited one of my boys to sleep over, but I want to know what they're going to be up to in the small hours. I got burned in May when I didn't ask for specifics because I knew the family-- the dad gave his son permission to show an R-rated movie at the sleepover. My son is still having intermittent trouble sleeping.
A couple of weeks ago one of my teenagers was invited to a coed sleepover. Separate tents in this family's backyard, he assured me. Elwood and I agreed that he could go to the party but would need to come home at a reasonable hour. "You guys," said the boy in question, "there are going to be 4 Eagle Scouts at this party."
That argument never holds much water with me, because I knew Elwood when he was a teenaged Eagle Scout. He didn't spend the night.
I saw a hilarious drawing on Facebook earlier this summer, in which a 10yo rendered her mom as a one-eyed monster stomping out all the fun. I don't want to be the Fun Crusher in my children's memories of their childhoods. But seriously? Coed sleepovers for high-schoolers? R-rated movies for kids who aren't even in junior high school?
Doesn't work for me.