Sometimes you just have to go with your gut

Last week, our nine-year-old got an invitation to his first sleepover birthday party. To say he was thrilled is a drastic understatement. He couldn't stop talking about it. Initially, I was thrilled too.

As he transferred schools last year, I was concerned about him making as good of friends as he had at his previous school. It took awhile, but he had made some good friends--and a lot of them. The problem is, he hasn't gotten invited to a birthday party since he has been in the new school. This may be because last year most kids invited the friends from their old schools, or perhaps they don't do parties or something like that, but, as a mom, I worry that the lack of invitations is an indication that he may not be fitting in. This boy is so vulnerable, it breaks my heart. Outwardly, he is goofy and loud. Inwardly, he is sensitive, caring, fair-minded, and genuinely kind. To think that kids will only see the skin-deep boy means they have the misfortune of not knowing the best part of our son. I worry about him unlike our other son, of whom I have very little worries.

Our older son goes full-steam ahead all day long. He is brilliantly smart and fearless. Most often, he acts before he thinks, which leads to his biggest challenge of being impulsive. Between the non-stop action and the wheels spinning in his head, he crashes when nighttime comes along and sleeps like a rock each night. Like. A. Rock. This results in occasional bed-wetting. This isn't anything different than what both The Swede and I experienced as children.

So, back to my feelings about the sleepover. On one hand, I was as thrilled as he was. The birthday boy is his best buddy at the new school. The invitation stated that the group of invitees were to meet at a local hotel for swimming followed by pizza and a sleepover. It didn't state where they'd be sleeping. I called the boy's mom a few days later to reply yes to the RSVP. During our conversation, she mentioned that her husband would be there with the boys all night. They would be sleeping at the hotel. We hung up, and, being the worrier that I am, I began pondering the possibilities...

...did I want my boy staying overnight with a man I have never met?
...there are too many to fit in one hotel room. Would some of the kids be unsupervised?
...isn't 9 a little young for a sleepover, not to mention a sleepover at a hotel?
...hotel pools don't have lifeguards. How can one adult watch 8 kids when I can hardly keep track of my own two at a pool?
...being that it's a birthday party, the boys will be drinking pop....lots and lots of pop...then going to sleep. You see where I'm going with this one.

I pondered and pondered. Then the pondering turned to worry. I worried and worried. I had to get another mom's opinion. She agreed with my concerns wholeheartedly. When The Swede came home from his business trip, I talked to him about it. He agreed with my concerns too. We knew our son would be disappointed and angry with us, but sometimes, as a parent, you have to do what's in your gut and not what's in your heart. So we said no, he couldn't go. (Luckily, he had gotten sick on Thursday, so this was an excellent excuse for saying no.)

Lo and behold, I was awakened last night at 2am by him telling me he had wet the bed.

I think we aren't popular parents with him right now, but I truly think we saved his reputation.