Introducing your kids to your new partner doesn't have to be scarier than farting in yoga class. Here's my second post about how I handled the Big Intro. If you missed the first part, you can check it out here.
Introducing your kids to your new partner can be one of the most nerve-wracking experiences. Ever.
When I was first single (post-separation), I was not thinking about dating. I didn’t once consider myself "available," I wasn’t getting out there, and sex was never on the forefront of my mind.
Those topics felt surreal and off-limits to me, somehow.
Yesterday was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day and it took all my strength to be vocal about it on Facebook.
I sat there glibly, scrolling through feeds, eyes darting around, the familiar anxious gurgle of heart burn bubbling away in my chest.
“You should totally post it. You want to. You need to.”
Tick tock.
I miss clocks. I miss the gentle ticking reminder that a task is waiting. The elegant sound of gentle pressure, and a reminder that we are in a moment. And then another.
I’m selling my family home as part of the divorce.
My rational self knows the outcome is going to be great for both the Ex and me, but getting through it this far has been exhausting. It’s been sort of like stepping into an inviting, buttercup-frosted meadow only to be blown sky high by emotional landmines.
Generally the Ex and I don’t fight, which is pretty awesome. But when we do? Good. Lord. It’s like listening to Sean Connery spiel about Capone in the Untouchables.
“They pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. *That's* the *Chicago* way!”
“You may want to tighten up on your parking. You’ve had 4 tickets in the past 4 months.”
Seriously?
The words, which are fairly innocuous on their own, when delivered by The Ex, seem barbed and mangle whatever part of my heart has the capacity to listen.
You are effing kidding me.
“Oh.. you’re not taking this well..”
Damn straight.
“It’s just that you’ve been towed.. you had those 2 tickets that I paid.. now this..”
He was very impressive, very handsome, and very grown up. He had a collection of letters after his last name that I couldn’t keep up with. I immediately felt an urge to stir up his life.
I fell deeply in love, but I wasn’t enough the way I was.
I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.
He’s right, I thought.
I’m too childish. I should grow up.
He doesn’t eat Lucky Charms. Or read comics. Or watch cartoons. Or like messes.
