It was an out of body moment, really.
It was our first official date. I knew he had been married before and had children, but the details were fuzzy. When I got them and did the math I was suddenly on the hood of the truck looking back in at myself.
This man, with whom I was so enamored I drove over a thousand miles for a date, had
five children? And two of them were older than me? That's a lot for a girl to digest. (And even more so for the children!)
Fast forward a few years. Everyone seems to have adapted remarkably well to this sitcom scenario in which we live. Before we got married, Jack asked all of his children how they felt about it.
Most responded along the lines of "we just want you to be happy, and she makes you happy." One smiled in mock relief that she was off the hook for taking care of him when he got old. The youngest declared she was the youngest of his children and preferred to stay that way.
I agreed with the latter request, but told the other one that as soon as he got old I was shipping him to live with her!
This family is full of humor and good nature and they accepted this Yankee in with open-arms. We just got back from visiting them and I am again awed by how gracious and welcoming they are to me. The situation is strange - at least outside of Hollywood - but somehow it works. This last week I was struck by how the bond I have with Jack shapes the bonds I have to his family.
Two of Jack's five children might be older than I am, but with all of them my feelings are colored by the way he treasures them. His need for them to be happy and successful is catching. On paper, I am the stepmother to a woman nearly six years older than I am.
It is ridiculous and inappropriate to assign "mother" in any way to such a relationship, but it perhaps not incorrect. I want to be a person on whom they can rely. A resource in their journey, to help in any way I can.
I am not their mother. I am not their sister or cousin. None of us has a template for how to navigate this relationship. We do not have a shared history. But for me there is a sense of responsibility that defies explanation. I feel the urge the mother hen has to nudge the chick in the right direction, to where he can gain traction. Who am I to presume I know better than they? Good question. I told you - it's odd!
There is a lot of discussion about how fractured family trees have become and indeed, they are certainly pruned in new ways, but as long as we are open to relationships our trees will blossom.
What I do know is that watching my husband puff with pride when his chicks gather fills my heart and make me love him - and them - all the more.
