Birdnesting; you move in and you move out.
In and out. In and out.
It’s like a porn movie.
I roll my roller bag in, and Stanley rolls his out.
Actually, that isn’t so true anymore. He leaves stuff here and at his apartment, so he really doesn’t bring much of a bag back and forth to the nest. (Which is good since he broke his hip and can’t roll a bag.) I, however, leave nothing at the crash pad but a grungy nighty and a toothbrush. I haul my shit every 2 days.
I get so sick of it.
When I realize I forgot to pack underwear again (commando, yes, I’ve done it) or left my phone charger at home, I always comfort myself with the knowledge that although it is horrible and terrible, my kids don’t have to do it. When I was researching birdnesting as a possible option for us, I read several cases where judges in divorce court ordered the parents to do this for a while to show them how hard it is before they casually committed their children to this lifestyle.
It’s hard, folks. In my case, it also has an end date.
Stanley has been ready to end this for a good while. It is expensive and he wants his $$. His girlfriend also wants his $$. I get it. I hate for Al to spend all of his $$ too. But I understand it, I’m a parent too and I understand he has responsibilities. Stanley’s gf is a cat lady. She doesn’t get it.
(Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
“Children? Wait… You have to give money for them every month?”
I would be quite happy to continue birdnesting even after I get married again.
When I was researching the concept, I read several articles about people who birdnested for many years. They remarried, maintained the home, and both had separate spaces with their new spouses, going back into the nest for their scheduled time. I could do that to keep this arrangement for the kids. Stanley is a no go.
Therefore, when Al and I get hitched and he moves to town, the kids will be adjusting to 2 homes, and maybe 3 since we still haven’t decided whether Al will move in here or if we will sell and start over. Since Merlot wants me all the time and Jumping Bean has ADHD and can’t remember anything, ever, well, it ought to be fun.
I can’t say that I won’t enjoy sleeping in my bed every night, no matter where my bed ends up. But the person (creature) that will be happiest is not me or Stanley…
It will be the dog.
(She looks like this.)
I’ve realized over the past several months that while the kids have done great with our divorce, the dog is a neurotic mess.
Because I get free time to do my errands (Stanley doesn’t do that sort of thing), the dog never goes anywhere. Therefore, when I do take her to the vet or groomer, she is hysterical in the car, on the leash, in the waiting rooms, etc. I think the dog would have had more opportunity to be out in society and around people, if we were still intact, because we would have no choice but to take her with us at times.
Nights are the worst. I am up half the night with the dog.
She sleeps with Stanley when he is here in his room downstairs. She wants to sleep with me when I’m here in my room upstairs. I go up when I put Merlot to bed at 9 whereas Stanley tells Merlot to go to up to bed and he stays up downstairs until 11:07 pm. (yes exactly, he is a creature of habit. But so is Al, he goes to bed at 10:06 my time, 11:06 EST. Men are weird.)
My first night back in the nest is exhausting because of the stupid dog.
She wants to go downstairs and then cries to come back up.
“I need you Mommy. You’re my mommy too. Did you forget? Wait, are you mad?”
She is as bad as a newborn human child and I’m worn out with it. Usually about the time that she gets comfortable with me and our bedtime routine, I’m out and Stanley is back.
Is she especially stupid? Shouldn’t a 15 lb dog be able to make this adjustment?
I have no idea. Al says “‘the smaller the dog the smaller the brain.”
I try to remember that, I swear I do.
I know that Stanely and I should both put the dog to bed in a neutral space (like the laundry room) but she barks and barks and barks and keeps the kids up. The same kids that have to get up at 6 a.m. to go to school, so I feel terrible about the dog barking and shaving time off of their sleep. After 45 minutes or so, I feel guilty enough that I get up and go back to the ‘up or down’ game.
By 2 a.m. I will admit to having homicidal thoughts.
The kids would get over it, right?
(No, I’m just kidding, but they would, right?.)
I have all of these ideas now about how I am going to sleep train the dog when I am with her all the time, because I think as long as Cat lady is in the picture, I will get custody of the dog.