Sugared Harpy

My kids’ friends just came over and this time the boys let them in the house.

So I had to zip up my pants instead of letting my belly sit naked in my lap.

Victoria’s Secret keeps sending me emails about how badly they want to see me in a TRIANGLE BIKINI.

I’m clutching my belly fat rolling in laughter!

Lay off, VS. Srsly.

As NB and I continue on this little journey and sometimes discuss what’s next, we have noticed something. Our kids have a lot of unexpected siblings.

Daniel and Brett have Sister 1 and Sister 2 at their dad’s. Add in NB’s daughter, E, let’s say. Even if we aren’t living together *yet* nor are we married *not even discussing at this point* they are spending time together and will continue to. If we live together, that solidifies that relationship more. And, if Mike has kids/stepkids, they would most likely count too.

Now include E’s siblings: Sister, Brother 1, and Brother 2 at her mom’s. Also, Step Sister 1, Step Brother, and Step Sister 2 from her dad’s late wife. That gives my kids three unexpected siblings and possibly more by extension of E’s siblings, depending on how the kids later define family for themselves and who they actually spend time wth. E gets eight clear siblings.

The million dollar question is: Is this a problem?

On the positive side, not really. My kids have benefited GREATLY from having my niece Ashley around, as close as a sister, because man oh man is she making them better men for learning how to talk to, not be afraid of, enjoy, laugh with, and learn the sweet and toughness of girls. As for their own sisters, they frustrate them sometimes (to the point of tears for Daniel) because they are LITTLE girls with big ideas about touching not-their-toys, but they also cherish those siblings to pieces. Daniel is an amazingly patient young man with little kids.

As for adding another sibling-like person into their life, well, she’s here. They adore her. They think E hung the moon. Of course if they live together full time they will at some point, argue. So what? Learning to argue is a skill, a valuable skill we all need a lifetime to figure out. But for now, they just like having her around when she is. She seems to enjoy their company as well. All three don’t seem to be as worried about this crap as maybe me or NB.

On the other hand, it could. That’s a lot of people with whom they have to get along. They have to decide at some point who they consider family, since as older kids, they may or may not include who I think they will. It’s more time that is potentially taken away from them. It’s more together time that includes more than just mama and them. It’s more figuring out where they fit in their own family.

You know what though, I can’t say I think those are strong enough reasons to worry to the point of not continuing the relationship or stifling where ever it leads. And seriously, I’m a worrier.

This is all in my head as we discuss where we are going with this thing we have.

I am not interested in marriage at this point. I just need a lot more time before I want to commit myself financially, really, to someone else. After my divorce, I really struggled when I read my credit report. After much letter writing, all is well again. But to feel you didn’t exist for ten years really stings. To know that even stuff, like CARS, you bought alone didn’t make it onto your credit report until you bitched…well, it’ll take some time to make that plunge again.

I could live together, I could go through the hassle of legally making sure things are what you want (such as property issues), but it will take some time to dunk myself into such a bullshit patriarchal system. And, hey, no one will berate me for not changing my name as it won’t be expected. Not that I don’t love when someone gets married or is married or that I won’t get married again someday, by the way, I just wish it wasn’t so intrinsically fucked up for women.

I do wish that couples with children who are committed to each other, whether or not they are “living apart together” or cohabitating, got similar respect as married couples. Because honestly, no matter how someone slices it or what people tell you, hetero-normative style marriage does not equal a more committed relationship (see: True Wife Confessions or you know, talk to a committed gay couple of forty years.)

And not being married doesn’t mean your kids won’t see you as family anyway. Which is probably the part that freaks us out the most :)

I noticed something odd the last time I was at the Old Navy nearest me. I didn’t think much of it, thought maybe it was temporary even.

No.

It wasn’t.

They seem to have permanently removed the plus size women’s section from the stores. I know this because I went online today and lo:

Check that a bit closer, will ya:

What the fuck, Old Navy? Saying Exclusively Online! all chipper and cheery like doesn’t mean you are somehow NOT saying that you don’t give a shit about your plus sized customers. You don’t. You DO want them to buy your things. But you do NOT want them to be in your stores, where perhaps these women would also like to try things on.

I’m not even IN these sizes right now, but damn is it annoying. Did you really need to remove that section to make room for more tshirts? Do you really think that women don’t talk to one another and say where we got our cute things? Also, shockingly, most people need to try clothing on a lot of the time. You know, to see if it fits, how it looks, how you feel in it. Women can’t do that if it’s all online, or at least, it makes shopping one big irritating clusterfuckery. More than usual, anyway.

Grrrr.

(Don’t even get me started on the impossibility of finding men’s clothings in bigger sizes. Polos, all you have are solid polos.)

GRRRRR.

Seventh grade boys like:

Throwing tomatoes at people
Leather objects
Hammering things
Buckets of water spilling on people
JOUSTING

Yeah, at the Renaissance Faire field trip, I learned that what seventh grade boys like most is violence.

Note: this is a rant. It may or may not make a lick of sense.

Hello, I am a selfish bastard but at this moment, I’m not exactly feeling apologetic about it.

Like most women, I have usually been a hell of a lot less selfish than I should have been. And right now, like for the past two years, I’m getting my selfish in. I needed to find me, find what I needed, and do those things I needed to do. All of those things are necessary to be happy.

But right now, I just plain feel selfish about wanting my own happiness. The situation with NB and his child is crazy right now. No one knows what’s going to happen and I’m feeling like a prick for wondering about how this affects me, instead of being wholly supportive to him and keeping my feelings shut inside.

I am sure life would be easier for him if I did that.

I haven’t, completely. Partially, yes, but not wholly. I want to be happy. I want to be the happy that we are and the strong couple that we are. And we are. But I am being super sensitive to comments he makes. I’m not sure how to decrease that sensitivity right now. Not at all.

So we went to NB’s family gathering for Mother’s Day.

We walked in, and immediately Brett is off in a corner, crying. AWESOME.

Turns out, his cousin has an enormous dog and I forget (because I win Motherhood) that Brett is really scared of big dogs. This dog is named SUMO. So introductions are stalled while Daniel flits off to introduce himself and be the social butterfly and I console Brett, the dog is put downstairs.

But what struck me was how kind his family was in that situation. Everyone checked on him, shared with him about their own fears of dogs and other scaries, and generally was very sweet, lively, and kind.

Our own fears were in full bloom, too.

You see, the five of us went. All in one car. Him, his daughter E., Daniel, Brett, me. All arrived and accounted for. It was scary but it was also totally fine. E hung with my kids even though she certainly wasn’t required to. Daniel played with all the little kids for hours and hours. Brett was a bit more broody but was funny and smiled. NB and I, fine.

Happy.

There’s a lot happening right now. It’s not my story to share (don’t you love that), but it could mean changes in our relationship that (again) I’m scared about. I’m dating a man who is an every other weekend custody dad, but who is fully engaged. I may be soon dating a man who is a full time custody dad instead.

I have no say in the matter, as I shouldn’t, and he is rightfully basing decisions on what’s best for his daughter and him. I wouldn’t have him any other way. I love that he is a good father, but it will affect us. We’ll have to learn how to date as two full custody parents…how do you DO that? When you do see your partner alone? How do you put the kids first without losing the two of you?

Lo, the talking has begun. YES, AGAIN. It’s a constant.

Once you have made the realization that this guy – the one you are sleeping with – the one you’re spending nearly every day with and hey, actually like – is your boyfriend, you have set a whole lot of shit in motion.

Specifically, a relationship.

We didn’t MEAN to start one. We MEANT to get in each other’s pants and stay there until we found other pants to climb into. This relationship just, well, worked.

It’s working so amazingly well.

But damns, people. I didn’t know it would bring so much else with it. Like, issues regarding our past relationships, how we started ours, families, friends, day to day life. Sheesh. He donated the hats that were bothering me. I am trying to feel more secure and actually say what my issue is. When it’s just the two of us, it’s beautiful. When we’re out with others, it’s still beautiful…but now we have to think about what we’re doing here.

We think we know. Maybe.

Love changes things. The concept that this is my partner changes things. The feeling that you want someone as a permanent fixture in your life changes things.

But for us, what doesn’t change is that we have teen children who have been through a lot and that we’ve been through a lot. Living together and marriage isn’t on immediate to-do list. But regardless of us, we’re realizing that we’re building a family here. Our three kids and us are equaling something. It’s weird, neither one of us is sure what to do, but whether it’s him, me, and my children…or him, me, and his daughter…or all five us, it looks like something.

Especially to a family event. Like Mother’s Day tomorrow.

I’m not sure if the boys and I are going to go to his family’s get together, as invited. But it brings up a lot in my head. That I’m doing something here. Something good, most likely. But scary, nonetheless.

My dad, notoriously in love with things that transport people, is currently into planes. And has friends that are into planes. Who fly planes. Who wanted to take my son on a plane. Their plane. Their tiny, itty bitty plane.

I LET HIM.

I couldn’t tell a thirteen year old kid, “No. You cannot do this super duper cool thing because mommy is scared that you will die.”

“Now, go back to your bubble and shush.”

I just couldn’t do it. He was so excited when heard he was offered a flight. Repeated flights if he wanted.

So he flew. I didn’t go watch him. I couldn’t. I knew I’d sit there and worry us all into a tizzy and he’d never get on that flight…or maybe he would and I would have a heart attack. Noooo, better to let Grandpa take him and have him feel full on excitement with just a touch of the scared.

(I possibly had him call right before and right after his flight. He possibly told me that, “No, Mom. I am not splattered on the ground in a million bloody pieces.” I possibly did cry when he was back on the ground. To myself. Am dork.)

He loved it. LOVED it. Loved it. Worth it.

I rent my house, right. So the yard has been attended to by renters for some years before me. Meaning, it’s about as hard as brick and just as hospitable to plants. It sometimes unveils rocks.

So I pot.

This is hanging from the giant tree in my front/back yard. (See it’s really a front yard, but it’s fenced in and has a patio.)

The tree is a giving tree. It gifts me with parts of a strand of large Christimas lights, white, from god knows when. The Christmas light strand is wayyyyyyyy up there. I got a whole light bulb the other day!

And the plant? Yes, that is on a hook device that has been hammered up into the trunk itself. Who looks at a tree and thinks, what can I shove into that?

I also planted some pots near the fencing that rides between my yard and my driveway. (Yes, that’s how it is. Yard, fence, driveway. Weird. I do love this house though, but the outside? Some strange.)

Hi. I planted this one.

And this one.

And another like those and some wee potted things. I had them near the house but realized there oh, yes, no sun goes there. So this little birdie lives by my steps all alone.

The point here is that it’s been over a week and they are all still alive. I have a horrible history of planting things and actually having them stay alive. I like the planting, but then get all forgetful with things like watering. But no, I’ve actually watered. Because of THIS (found at Lowe’s):

How can you resist the little clay wormie peeking at you? You CAN’T. (I hope.)