On Friday, N asked me to take him to buy a new hoodie...with his own money. I agreed, so we went to look for this hoodie that he had imagined in his head. The poor kid. He's definitely mine. He couldn't find what he was looking for, and after two stores, he was becoming more and more frustrated. I told him that we were on the tail end of hoodie season, so the likelihood of finding exactly what he was looking for was pretty small.
His dad called as I was frantically searching for my keys at Academy (they were on a folding table next to the Rangers t-shirts...SUPER cute, by the way), and I agreed to watch Baby E for 45 minutes in exchange for Justin picking up BOTH Baby E and N and taking N to Grapevine Mills to the Nike Outlet. Well over 45 minutes later, he finally came to pick them up, and I told N I'd see him the next morning.
Around 10:00, I get a tearful phone call from my boy. He said he grabbed a hoodie at the Under Armour Outlet (a brand he had specifically told me he didn't want since all the other kids wear UA), and was really unhappy with his choice. I told him that he needed to get some rest, that we could talk about it in the morning, and reinforced what I'd told him earlier: just because you want something and you're prepared to buy it does not mean that you just have to go get it that second.
Impulse is NOT the best idea ever. People always laugh when I say that...probably because I've always been the queen of impulse. Look at my life. Exactly. Nothing further.
Anyway, I'm different now. I'm a real grown-up. Shut it. It's true.
N came home, brought the hoodie, and I told him we'd take care of it sometime this weekend (which we did not). Then, as I was drying my hair, I realized I didn't see a tag. I asked him where the tag was, and he said he took it off. I explained that, if you take the tag off of a clothing item, most places won't accept the return. Long story short, his dad had the tag in his truck and brought it over this afternoon. The tag was for a girls' hoodie, something I pointed out to N, who got super pissed in a hurry.
I told him it was because his hair was too long. I'm shamelessly lobbying for a haircut, and I don't even care if I'm playing dirty.
He went to the batting cages with his dad this afternoon, and when I got him back, he said the words I never expected to hear from him...
"Mom, I'm so glad I live with you...'cause it would really suck to live
at my dad's. And, yes, I know I'm not supposed to say 'suck,' but I
just wanted you to know how much I really mean it."
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...and yes, Aubrey, you ARE doing something right. He went on to tell me how he's not a huge fan of his stepmom, partially because she doesn't like me, and partially because she doesn't seem to care about him. (Both of these I know or have noticed, but haven't said a word...maybe I should now that he notices, too.) He asked why she doesn't like me, and I said, "Well, honey, maybe it has something to do with the fact that your dad and I get along so well. We're friends, and even though we don't always agree, we can usually work things out."
Disclaimer: This was not always the case, otherwise things in our lives would be different and probably joint. This is a recent development in the last few years.
He told me that his dad and I get along way more often that his dad and stepmom do. He said it seems like all she wants to do is fight. I probably found more joy in that statement than I should have. I don't want anyone to be unhappy...but when you're talking to your ex (me) and tell her, "Well, I guess I better marry her or cut her loose." it's hard to get a sense of overwhelming excitement about wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone...right?
Or maybe it's just me.
Aubs
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