Blending

Blending families isn't easy. There are always obstacles, speed bumps, steps backward. I've learned to be patient and keep my expectations reasonable.

But there are those moments that make my heart sing.

KlutzGirl curling up on the couch with me to watch TV, letting me stroke her long blond hair and give her a cuddle.

The Padawan making a sly joke about me that sets us all laughing.

The Dark One letting me hug her--and kind of hugging me back.

DramaBoy running across the room to hug MTL exuberantly after days at his dad's place.

The Widget giggling uncontrollably as MTL tickles him and they rough house on the couch.

Sitting around the dining room table, all of us, eating dinner and laughing. Together. A family.

Habit

There are moments when I'm washed with a wave of gratitude and relief to be joined with this man, moments when I recognize the subtle poison of many years' habit slowly leached clean by today's reality.

The Ex did not particularly love my parents. He didn't hate them, but he didn't ever feel terribly comfortable around them--and he most certainly resented them during the months they were here. We would go years without having them around, and then when they were--well, I wanted to spend time with them. So schedules would be altered, plans would be made, and sometimes they'd want to come over just to spend time. You know, with their daughter. With their son-in-law. With their grandchildren.

He resented the changes to the status quo. He resented having to fit additional people and plans into our holidays, our weekends, our summers. And he outright hated having them come by to visit if there hadn't been, oh, a week or so of advance notice.

I grew accustomed to mediating. I'd tell them I needed to check with him first before confirming. He'd rarely say an outright No, but I would be in for a long bout of soothing, cajoling, and hours of underlying tension. Flexibility and graciousness were not his strong points. I felt torn, forced to choose between my parents and my husband.

Looking back, no one won in that scenario.

Flash forward to last night. My parents are back in the country--they flew in this last weekend--and while MTL and I were able to spend some time with them, they hadn't gotten to see the kids yet. We had plans for them to come to dinner Friday night, and I hadn't told the boys that Grandma and Grandpa were back in town, since I didn't want them to get too upset about waiting. The Ex must have said something to them. Yesterday when I picked up The Widget from daycare, he took one look at me, burst into tears, and buried his head in his arms. I miss Grandma and Grandpa! he sobbed, and it was with no avail that I assured him they would be visiting the next day.

So I called them, and we made plans for them to come by for dinner and a brief visit.

As I hung up the phone, a wave of apprehension washed over me. I hadn't checked with MTL before making the plans. How would he feel about it? Would he be angry about my parents showing up a day ahead of schedule? Would he resent them spending this much time at our house? Would he be upset that I had invited them before checking with him?

I texted him nervously and waited for his reply, reminding myself that he is far more laid back than The Ex in these matters, reminding myself that he showed no sign of resenting my parents this last weekend--he was even pleased that their plane's delay allowed him to accompany me to the airport to pick them up.

Sure enough, when he called me, he had no problem at all with the change in plans. There was no guilt trip, no resentment, no tension. When I told him later that night what I had experienced, he just looked at me and said I'm a silly girl--and when I explained why it had happened, touched my arm with compassion and understanding, and told me not to worry.

There are so many reasons I love him. He keeps giving me more every day.

The Stories of Us

I think a few of you who read over here don't regularly read (or read at all) my main blog, Diapers and Dragons. So I thought I'd link you to the three posts I wrote there recently that tell the stories of how MTL and I met, fell in love, and (eeeeee!!) became engaged.

So here you go:

How MTL Became My True Love (Part I)

How MTL Became My True Love (Part II)

How MTL Became My Fiance

Enjoy!

IT'S OFFICIAL!!!!

As of around eight o'clock tonight, in a dark corner by the tenth hole of the glow-in-the-dark putt-putt golf place where we went on our first date exactly one year ago:

Now (OMG OMG OMG)

In 2-3 weeks (OMG OMG OMG)

Snarky Love

The following conversation took place after I had mentioned something about myself (which I don't quite remember now) and MTL had responded with a bit of surprise.

Me: I know I told you about that before.

MTL: Yeah, but that was like, four years ago or something.

Me: (laughs) So how long, in nonliteral terms, have we been together?

MTL: At least ten years, I'd say.

Me: Well, that does kind of make sense. Sunday is ten months. So that puts us at about a year per month, right?

MTL: Sounds about right.

Me: Boy, that could get confusing when people ask us about it. Just think of what it'll be like when we're in our forties!

MTL: "It's been, what, honey? A couple hundred years?"

Me: "At least a hundred and twenty."

MTL: "Yep. Loooooong time."

Me: "When we said 'forever,' we meant it."

MTL: "Yup. And the bitch just won't die!"

The fact that we then erupted into laughter and ended on a kiss says volumes about why we fit each other like a frickin' two-piece puzzle.

We're crazy like that.

Home for Christmas

The other day, as I was driving along listening to the radio as I ran all the many many errands that tend to fill my afternoons, a minor miracle happened.

One of my favorite Christmas songs is "I'll Be Home For Christmas." As much as I love it, however, it's a song that has always been mixed with sorrow for me. Which, really, makes sense. It's a wistful song. For me, listening to it has always made me long for the holidays of Yore, back in West Africa with my parents and all the family traditions and joy of that time of year. This has been true ever since I was in college. Even when I was swept up into my former in-laws' family and welcomed into their homes for the holidays (as well as other times, of course, but you know what I mean) long before I even became an official in-law, even when I was married and forming new traditions--I always longed for Christmas at Home.

I realize now that this is because I had not truly formed a new Home with The Ex, all those many years.

So normally that song would make me think of years long ago, in another time, another place. The other day, however, when I heard that song, I had a completely different response than I've ever had before. Instead of thinking of West Africa and holidays of decades past, my first thought was of my Home with MTL and our children. I pictured our living room with a Christmas tree in the corner, the children opening the presents we've gotten for them, and me snuggling on the couch with My True Love watching it all with joy and delight.

It's a new era for me. I truly have a Home, and it's Here and Now rather than There and Then. And that's where I'll be for Christmas.

"[in]sanity"

This one? I think it speaks for itself.

*********************************

"[in]sanity"

conventional wisdom says
we should take it slow
don't rush into things
test the waters carefully
wait and
wait some more

conventional society says
we being crazy
insane fools
we should take a step back
think and
think some more

but i've never been one for conventionality
i'd rather be unique
and when i look in your eyes
hear your voice
feel the beat of your heart
i know
this is more real than
conventional can ever create

so even though we're crazy
leaping off this edge
trusting in an ephemeral future
i'd rather be a fool with you
than sane without

Lots Of Mush, But No BS

It's a bit hard for me to write about him online. Not because I don't have the words--they overflow, seriously; I could write a treatise on him and how I feel about him--but because it would just sound so damn mushy and starry-eyed and crap. And I think it could come across as naive and fake, as though I am some twitterpated fool due for a very rude awakening when Real Life comes into play.

Not that I don't have my twitterpated moments. I'll admit to that.

I have a friend, a dear friend, who although she is very happy for me and really rather convinced that MTL and I are the real thing, worries that we have rushed things. I can see her point, even though I personally feel we've done things at the right pace for us. Because normally? If this was someone else? Hell yeah, I'd be sitting there going What the hell do you think you're doing???

There are times when I'm also rather insane. In a good way.

(We're going to overlook that little episode back a year and a half ago, okay?)

(No, really. ALL BETTER NOW.)

We openly admit that our story is a crazy one. It's not "normal," though if you can tell me what "normal" is these days I'd be interested in hearing your theory.

But then, "normal" is also boring.

We're also nowhere near perfect. That WOULD be a foolish lie.

Besides, "perfect" is boring too.

We've already been in the trenches a goodish bit, MTL and I. Linear time says we've barely known each other. Seven months, really. Seven months last week since we first started emailing and texting. Seven months yesterday that we had our first phone conversation. Seven months this coming Sunday since our first date.

Yes, really. That's it. Seven months.

It feels like years. And not in the oh my god I've known you forever and you're just a habit sort of years.

(Been there. Done that.)

It's as though there's a part of me that has always known him. There's a core there that formed so quickly that even when surprises do come along (and oh yes, they do come along), there's a deep knowledge that the foundation is solid.

We aren't the same people, though we have huge amounts in common. We are most definitely individuals, with our own strengths and weaknesses and opinions and points of view and interests. But more often than not there's a balance there. Rather than being identical, we're...well, we're like puzzle pieces. We fit into the same area. Our edges click and fit. Our images, so to speak, blend together. But we have our variations. If we were identical, then we'd just be the same piece to different puzzles. Instead, we're our own parts of the same bigger picture.

How else do I say this? How do I explain how even in moments of stress or disagreement or even anger, there's a connection there I've never had before? That there's a sense of wholeness? That every time I see him or talk to him or hug him or lie next to him or even just see words on a screen that he typed from wherever he is--it's like coming home.

You see what I mean? MUSH.

I never knew this is what Love and Relationship was supposed to be. This partnership. This give and take. This solid ground from which the storms of life are faced, not without being moved, but without being broken.

I don't use the name My True Love lightly. It's not just a label I gave him on a whim.

I know not everyone's story is the same. And that doesn't mean they are better or worse than we are. Just different. I also know that seven months ago I met the man with whom I will spend my life, and I am richly blessed. So much more than words will ever say.