The Sleepover

I've entered a new era in mommy-hood.  My son was invited to his first sleepover.

I wasn't sure he'd want to go.  I wasn't sure I wanted him to go.  Yes, he's spent plenty of nights away...mostly with his grandparents.  And there was a week away at camp.  But somehow this felt different.

When I asked him if he wanted to go, he unequivocally said "yes".  So who was I to say no?

I suppose I should be glad that he was the invitee, instead of being the other way around.  I'll admit it, I think I'm too high strung, too controlling, to be able to deal with a boy's sleepover.  They would have a blast, but by morning I'd most likely be a wreck.  (So props to the mom who agreed to let my son sleep over...she is a stronger, or at least more flexible, mom than I will ever be.)

And so I packed a bag for him.  I dug the sleeping bag out of the closet (getting pelted by board games as I did).  I pulled a pillow off of the top shelf and put a pillow case on it.  (I'm sure Freud would have a field day with the fact that I put on a pillow case that I had as a child featuring the Peanuts gang.).

My husband and I took him over to the friend's house this evening.  It's only a few blocks away from our house and yet in some ways it feels further than the camp he goes to for a week in the summer.

I drilled the following into his head before we left him:

• In his friend's house, the mom's rules are the ones we abide by.  No questions
• He eats what is put in front of him.  (Which could be challenge since he is such a picky eater)
• If he has any problems whatsoever, he can always ask his friend's mom to call us.  It doesn't matter what time of the night it is.  If, for whatever reason, he needs us, we will be there.  (And that's why I'm sleeping with my cell phone on my night stand.  Our home phone is on my husband's side of the bed.)

I know he'll be fine.  I've already gotten a text from his friend's mom saying that all is well.  And I know that this is part of growing up and learning...

Still, tomorrow morning when we pick him up, I know I'll hug him a little longer and a little tighter.  And he'll probably like it a little less.  He's growing up...

And so am I.