Christmas Card Photos

Posted under Blended Family, Daughters, Family, My Observations, Step Daughter, Wife

 

Now you understand why I’m losing my hair…

 

 

 

 

Jean

Posted under Ex's, Family

 

The call came when I was out with friends playing our regular Monday night soccer game.  An excuse for a bunch of old guys to try and recapture our youth.  As I walked through the front door my wife said my youngest called.  She said she sounded upset.  My mind thought, here we go again with the teenage drama of school and friends.

 

Still sweating from the game I picked up the phone and called her.  My ex answered and immediately handed the phone to my youngest.  “Granny Jean died today” were her first words to me.  I sat down and absorbed the news.  It wasn’t unexpected, but just the same I was taken aback.  She was a day shy of her ninety fifth birthday.

 

Jean was my ex wife’s grandmother.  I first met her when my ex and I started dating back in 1979.  I had been this boy of nineteen who had just started college, had met a girl and had fallen hard for her.  Since her parents lived in Europe, her closest relatives were her grandparents living in Newport Beach. 

 

I came from a modest blue collar family.  My mom and dad both worked.  I was the first in my family to go to college.  She wanted to introduce me to her grandparents.    They lived in Newport.  They lived in a neighborhood of movie stars and pro football players.  I was intimidated.  A fish out of water. 

 

Jean and Popeye (Bob) were gracious and kind.  They invited me into their home.  It became a home that my ex and I after we were married spent many Sunday evening family dinners at.  Big, loud, family dinners with conversations ranging from politics, religion, family, history, travel, every evening became an education.  This boy from blue collar beginnings began his schooling on things that college would never teach him.

 

Jean and Popeye were young sweethearts who fell for each other.  They raised a son and a daughter who were devoted to their parents.  They both worked hard, he as a Port Pilot for the Port of Los Angeles and she as a homemaker and mother.  Jean was unselfish in volunteering for causes to help those who were less fortunate.  She was a major organizer with The Assistance League of Newport Beach. 

 

My ex got on the phone after my youngest gave me the news.  I gave her my condolences.  We talked about Jean and the life she lead.  We talked about how she was so much in love with her husband, loved her children and grandchildren.  When my ex and I became parents to our daughters, Jean was the adoring Great Grandmother who spoiled them constantly.  She truly loved her family and took great pride in making sure that family came first. 

 

She had lived a long and very full life.  Jean and I didn’t always see eye to eye on many things.  But she taught me the lessons of grace, love and unselfishness.

 

She will be missed, but not forgotten.  Goodbye Jean.    

 

She’s Not Going to Like This Post

Posted under Daughters, Family, Wife

  I was the lone soldier on the battlefield.  Bombs were incoming from all directions.  I searched high and low for a foxhole, a ditch, any place that would have given me some form of protection.  It was no use; I would have to surrender to the battle.

 

No, this didn’t happen overseas, or in a foreign land, I’m not lucky enough.  This happened here in my own home, my castle, my place where I reflect in the peace and calm. 

 

Yeah right!

 

I arrived home recently to what I had hoped would be a calm and relaxing evening.  My anticipation was to have a quiet evening spent with my wife and daughters.  Something that doesn’t always come to fruitarian but I am always hopeful.

 

For you see, I am still the only man within the confines of a home dominated by women.  This is where my testosterone provides me with no protection from the elements within my residence. 

 

First I was ambushed by my youngest daughter.  Out of nowhere, I was blind sided.  Wham, I was confronted by smudged mascara; red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.   It was the teenage drama of school, friends, and boyfriend problems. 

 

I was a man walking a mine field without a map.  God help me.

 

After putting out that fire I turned to find that my oldest who had issues of her own.  Too little sleep from dog sitting my ex’s puppy and staying up until dawn.  She was ready to take someone’s head off.  It wasn’t going to be mine.  I calmed her down as only an “understanding father” can.

 

Just as I thought all was finally calm and I had weathered the storms, in came my wife.  “We need to talk”.  This was not going to be pretty.  I had obviously not spent enough time with her this evening.  She was feeling a bit neglected.  My fate was a long conversation discussing our “feelings” over this.

 

Is there a conspiracy towards men?  Was there something in the water?  Had I missed the memo?  

 

Women should come with instruction manuals.  Those of us who can grow facial hair should be given lessons in living with the fairer sex. 

 

Or start equipping us with better foxholes.    

 

Tradition

Posted under Family, My Observations

 

When going through divorce and remarriage your kids can go through many upheavals.  The one thing you try to do is give them consistency.  When I first divorced I tried to make sure the girls had things pretty much as we had when I was married to their mother.  Dinners at the same time, homework, holidays, birthdays.  They needed to know that even though their mother and I were not together, they could always count on our family traditions. 

 

My wife and I when we first got married found ourselves in a unique situation.  Unlike newly married couples who have the opportunity to create new traditions, we brought long standing ones to our marriage.  We had both been married previously and had established family traditions.  Oranges in the toes of Christmas stockings (mine), the man carves the Thanksgiving turkey (hers), eating dinners early in the evening (hers), sleeping late (mine), getting up early (hers), her winning all the arguments, me losing them.  

 

My brother married into a large Italian family.  Traditional family gatherings are usually huge and loud.  Not something he or my side of the family was accustomed to.  Birthdays, and holidays can be intimating if you’re not ready for them.  I love his bride and her family and have grown to love the gatherings.  Their traditions have now become a part of our family and with their encouragement we’ve all become closer. 

 

Now that our daughters are older, they’ve grown to accept and include the traditions that my wife and I bring to the family separately.  We know that it will be the “Ten Commandants” and “GodSpell” at Easter.

 

What traditions does your family have?  Which ones did you include with your spouse when you got married? 

I Am The Domestic God

Posted under Family

 

I recently came to the realization that I am the Domestic God while working up a sweat scrubbing one of our bathrooms the other day. 

 

I recognize that this title is usually not meant for one of my gender.  I have checked under the hood and found all the correct parts for my masculinity.  My recent blood test confirmed I’ve got the correct amount of testosterone in my system.  I don’t go around with an apron humming “Whistle While You Work” as I scrub the floors.  I can guarantee you I am a man.

 

However, I am a man who for whatever reason likes his home tidy and clean.  My house though not spotless, is pretty much clean enough to pass most inspections from the in-laws.  I don’t expect floors you can eat off of, but it would be nice not to have to hurdle over a slew of clothing, books, shoes or balls of yarn to get from one room to another. 

 

I know, most of you are going, “But Mike, you’ve got teenagers, are you crazy?”  Why yes I am a bit crazy, just ask my wife.  But I refuse to live in a home where every other step I take could potentially be my last.  My daughters have all learned that I have no patience for the odd shoe left near the stairwell, or the latest Teen Glamour magazine cluttering up my living room.  To do so would incur my wrath.  Or a stern glare at least.

 

My wife before we got married was a single mother who worked full time.  Her priorities were not in keeping her home clean uncluttered.  Her house was chaotic at best.  Art projects left undone, more balls of yarn than any cat could ever play with.  She’ll be the first to tell you housework was not at the top of her list.

 

When we were dating you could see the night and day differences in our homes.  Hers looked lived in; mine looked like I was expecting visitors from Good Housekeeping magazine.  This is where the term opposites attract would apply to our relationship. 

 

Why should I marry someone who cleans like I do?  What would I do in my spare time?  She and I were destined to marry. 

 

It was fate that brought us to each other and it is the Swiffer mop and scrub brushes that keep us together.

 

Can We Be Friends?

Posted under Ex's, Family, My Observations

 Late last night while checking my blog I found that someone had linked back to me from a comment I had made at their site.  I went back to her blog and read her post.  I reread it several times. 

 

As is what happens while blogging we find kindred spirits going through the same issues.  I think many times we write not only for the therapeutic vomit of words we spill out, but also with the hope that someone, somewhere out there is experiencing this as well. 

 

There are quite a few of us who have found ourselves in this very situation.  We’ve recently separated or divorced and find ourselves in a position we aren’t sure how to handle. 

 

KT at When Did I Become A Grownup?, finds herself in this position.  She and her husband after 17 years together have been separated for many months now, and there may not be a chance of reconciliation.  During this marriage she has formed a bond with her mother in-law and sister in-law.  And now that the marriage maybe dissolving, her dilemma is what will happen to her relationship with in in-laws.  

 

I’ll ask that you go to her blog and look at her post.  I could repeat what she has written, but I wouldn’t do it justice.  It’s always best to hear it straight from the source. 

 

I was married for 15 years before my divorce.  My wife and I, while we were married, made a few friends, and I was close to one of her brothers.  After the divorce you could see a separation of our friends.  Choices were made on whom they would follow.  Trying to stay with both would not be possible.  The uncomfortable awkwardness would always be there.  The elephant in the room that everyone would knew was there, yet not necessarily acknowledged.

 

My brother in-law told me after the divorce how sorry he was, but as in his words “blood is thicker than water”.  He hated that his sister created the atmosphere for our divorce but couldn’t in good conscious continue his relationship with me while still being her brother.  

 

I understood.  I didn’t like it.  Just one more person whom I lost because of the divorce.  I respected his decision.  He understood that family must come first.  I still drop him an email on his birthday, but we don’t have the relationship that we once had.

 

I think in retrospect that if I had continued my connection with my brother in-law it would have spoiled his relationship with his sister.  I would have told him things, he would have responded positively or negatively and that would have made it awkward.  It was best to let the wounds heal as soon as possible and for all of us to move on.

 

A divorce is the chance to start anew.  To begin with a clean slate and to establish new relationships.  My children have always had a connection to my wife’s side of the family and friends, and they now have the benefit of my family and new relationships.

 

I know that everyone’s situation is different.  How has your divorce or separation affected your relationships with in-laws and mutual friends?

 

Knit Is A Four Letter Word!

Posted under Daughters, Family, Step Daughter, Wife

 

The words knit and yarn are fast becoming four letter words in my household.  These words to me are slowing becoming synonymous with the four letter curse words we all know and love.  I’m beginning to loath these words as they are bandied about my house. 

 

My home has become a yarn shop.  Not in the sense that you could walk in and shop.  But if your in the area, please feel free to do so.  There are yarn balls everywhere.  There is not a room in this house where you won’t find a ball of yarn, needles or some type of knitted project partially done.

 

It started with my middle child and one ball of yarn.  It all looked innocent.  I mean how could one ball of yarn be threatening?  She had one bag of yarn and needles and kept them pretty much in one space in the living room.  She’d pull it out while watching TV or avoiding the inevitable homework due the next day.  A little annoying, but all in all not intrusive.

 

I should have seen it coming though.  There was a glint in my wife’s eyes.  Her curiosity seemed innocent at first.  She asked about the middle child’s new hobby, this “addicting” all consuming craft which looks like a bunch of Boy Scout knots intrigued her. 

 

Coming home from work one day I found another ball of yarn and needles that I hadn’t recognized from before.  “Oh yeah, middle daughter and I ran over to the yarn shop and picked up a couple of things”.  To my horror, my wife had decided to join our daughter.  “But honey, just think of all the things we can make.  Baby blankets for premies, shawls for the church, Christmas and birthday gifts; the list is endless.”   

 

Soon my house was overcome by needles and yarn.  Under the bed, under the stairs, all over the living room, overflowing into the kitchen and dining rooms.  Not to mention the huge stash in my middle child’s bedroom and out in “my garage”. 

 

Just when I had gotten used to the chaos within my home, my wife announced to me that she had taken our youngest to the yarn shop.  “She’s a natural at this.  She expressed an interest in knitting, how could I deny her?” 

 

There are now more needles and balls of yarn floating around my house these days.  Dozens of half completed projects fill each of the rooms.  And don’t get me started on the yarn winder (what the hell do you need a winder for yarn for?) that has taken up permanent residence in my living room on my coffee table. 

 

Can I interest anyone in a knitted shawl?