The Man is making great progress with our new house. The plumbing and electric are in, and so is the septic system. We are awaiting inspections today to proceed with insulation, heating and cooling, and drywall. The roof is complete, and the siding is half done, thanks to The Man himself.
The Boy and I visit every weekend and some weeknights. He walks down the cul-de-sac that is one street over, and recently we brought his bike over to the new house so he can ride it there, as well (as he really has no space to ride it at our current house). We have met and befriended our closest neighbors, both of which have dogs, and The Boy loves to visit them. When we visited the site this past weekend, I couldn’t get him to leave.
We’ve also begun talking about his room and what he would like that to look like (blue walls with white puffy clouds, thankyouverymuch). We have begun stopping at a nearby convenience store run and owned by some great people who appreciate The Boy and his quirks. It even has a retro arcade so he can play his favorite games for a quarter.
The time it has taken to build this house ourselves has given The Boy ample time to adjust to the idea of living there, and become accustomed to the surroundings. He is now excited about the move, and this process has been ideal for allowing him time and experience to accept the change.
We can’t wait.
For most, high school orientation is an exciting time. I watched the 8th graders sit quietly and listen to the high school administration and teachers speak in the auditorium, and afterwards wander the halls, almost running at times they were so excited to see their friends and figure out how the building was laid out. During the presentation they were told what classes they would have to take as a freshman, and that they may not got the electives they want because they build the schedule from seniors down. They were told about foreign language, core classes, Career and Technical Ed classes, and counseling services.
On day 2, when I was teaching him about fire safety, I was amazed at how little he knew about what to do in a fire. I know that in his nine years in school, they have had various fire safety discussions, assemblies, etc. But The Boy pretty much had no clue about first feeling the door, and crawling to avoid smoke. Then I was blown away again by how quickly he learned it, and retained it. When The Man got home, I asked The Boy to tell him what he learned, and he did. When I asked him to tell Grammy & Poppy what he learned the next day, he did. No repetition was necessary, no flashcards… Just role play. Amazing.
We went in May last year, and The Boy had an absolute blast. But he was by himself, and after awhile, you realize it would be much more fun with friends. We talked about inviting his friend C and C’s brother and sister the next time we came, or possibly to celebrate their birthdays, as C and his brother are twins and have their birthday a month before The Boy’s. We talked about it several times with C’s mom, a friend of mine, because we would have to coordinate driving or possibly rent a vehicle big enough for all of us.
He also will never tell me he is experiencing pain, which worries this mama. In fourteen years, The Boy has never once complained of a headache, but he’s probably had one. And he definitely will not tell me if his dad’s absence and lack of communication is causing him pain, either. I have always told The Boy that he can call his dad anytime he likes. He has never taken me up on the offer. He has difficulty talking to him on the phone on the rare occasions that his dad calls him because he has difficulty creating conversation, and his dad doesn’t understand the types of questions to ask.
A couple of years ago, in an attempt to get him to do some chores, I tried to teach him how to fold and put away laundry. I still have him put it away for me (sometimes), but I do most of the folding. The other day, he happened to come into the living room the evening I was folding, and for some reason, The Man had turned Spongebob on – a rare occurrence. The Boy plopped on the couch, and I started handing him socks to match up. He not only matched them up, but balled them up the way I had taught him to do it. No prompting, nothing. He just did it, and with no complaint.
Simple. I Just Do. 