Page 479 of 524

Blending


Rob and I had a conversation last night about being a blended family now. And though we are that, aren’t all families really? Even when there are no children involved, there is still a coming together of two sets of relatives that somehow have to learn to exist within the same sphere even if it is only at holidays and children’s birthday parties.

Jordan and Farron, Rob’s girls, have done a tremendous job with making Katy feel as though she is their little sister. Neither one has ever disputed her when she has announced their sisterhood to whomever was listening. They listen to her. Play with her. And tease her as though she has always been a part of their lives. They have made me feel welcome too, and I haven’t felt as though it was just politeness on their part even though it more than likely was in the beginning maybe still is sometimes. A friend of mine whose husband has a now grown daughter from an earlier marriage told me that from the very beginning she resolved to think of her husband’s daughter as her own and treat her accordingly. The girl lived with her mother, but my friend felt that using words like “stepdaughter” implied a difference that was negative. Her “daughter” does not call her mom nor did she ever expect her to, but she references the girl as “my daughter” or “our daughter” because she feels that terminology is reflective of attitude. I took that to heart. She is right. “Step” is a prefix that has been demonized in fairy tales and movies. It’s a “bad word” even with good intentions. When I talk about Jordan and Farron, I say “the girls” or “Rob’s daughters”. I don’t ever plan to use “step”.

Katy, my little girl with Will, does not know the correct terminology for blended families. She references “Daddy Will” and “Rob” or “Daddy Rob” and lately she has been calling Rob just “Daddy” on and off. She is not confused. She knows who everyone is and how they are related to her, but in her simple (and it’s never really been) reality, things are what they are. Rob and Mom are getting married which will make him her father and his girls her sisters. Small children have such wisdom it makes you wonder what awful things we do to them that empties them of so much of it as they grow older.

I don’t want to imply that all this merging has been easy or will not have bumps as we continue through the years. As I have blogged before, nothing is simple about moving forward. It’s difficult when it is just you and moreso when there are others involved, but life and living are primarily about our interactions with others, spouses and children being primary and branching out in importance from there.

Once upon a time it was just me. And then I married Will and we added Katy. Will died and it was just Kate and I until Rob and with Rob I gained his girls and he gained Katy. And now there are five.

The Mall


The mall in West Edmonton is one of those mega-malls. Mega is the key word. There is a small amusement park and a water-park on site as well as an IMAX theater,  car wash, casino and a replica of Columbus’s Santa Maria. We went with my best friend and her two children who are here for the wedding. The first thing I said to Rob when we walked in via the Bourbon Street entrance was, “Let’s never come here again.”

I am not an anti-mall or even an anti-shopping person. I love malls. I like shopping that doesn’t involve being outdoors and exposed to the elements Getting in and out of the car with a child is wearying and so one stop anything is always better. Edmonton’s mega mall was at one time the largest in the world though I believe that the one in Minneapolis now enjoys that distinction. The first thing I noticed was something I have seen all over the area so far in that doorways are smoking havens here. So, after you hold your breath long enough to run that foul gauntlet and make it inside, you will find that it still smells somewhat ……bad…..and that the smell doesn’t improve so much as it just morphs into some other bad smell as you wander from here to there. Thank goodness for olfactory fatigue.

Like most malls of any great size, it is hard to hear. Sounds echo and assault. It is too narrow. Dodging people becomes an objective that overrides window shopping. Strollers are hazardous to child and passersby alike. Teenagers and younger adults are less bearable as they travel in small packs and add to the generally deafening atmosphere.

After coercing the girls (ages 9, 5 and 4) into allowing a bit of necessary wedding shopping, we took them to the amusement park. My friend proved again why she is the best by offering to shepherd the kids around so Rob and I could go off on our own for a late lunch which led us to the food court, an even more smelly destination but romantic lunches are about the participants more than the locale. Anywhere I can spend a bit of uninterrupted time gazing into my love’s eyes and talking about life it’s all good.

Hooking up with my friend and the girls, we spent another hour navigating the amusement park and satiating the children’s need for thrill and terror before heading back to the hotel to drop off our friends and head over to Montana’s to meet with Rob’s older daughter, Farron.

Montana’s is a meat restaurant. Dead carcass of all kinds, mainly the mooing variety, are offered up in a variety of ways. I used to eat dead animal myself and still eat fish on occasion, but after stomach issues forced me to modify my eating habits and diet I gave more thought to what it is that I was really putting into my mouth. Flesh is flesh and I am even beginning to think that fish is probably a bad idea. Digression finished. Farron is a cook at Montana’s and we thought she would be working but as it turned out she was attending the dinner portion of a stagette at the nearby Moxie’s, so we spent time with her there.

It was, in retrospect, the kind of day that normal people spend, entertaining out of town friends, occupying children with weekend diversions, and relaxing at the dinner table with family. Normality. Once just a concept and now a reality, of sorts, again.

Finding My Way


Doing the stay at home mom thing was my part-time job over long holidays and during the summer. It was not something I took seriously, and I don’t say this to belittle it as an occupation. Raising a child and taking care of the basic and not so needs of a family is not for the lazy, the weak or the slow of mind. I base this observation on the years I spent, poorly, attempting to manage a household, child and a full-time job. None of which I managed to do well simultaneously and can say with all honesty that when push came to shove it was household that got the boot every time…..because it was hard work. Hard thankless unpaid work.

Yesterday I made my first trip into the Fort without Rob. Katy and I had an appointment for haircuts, and I needed to stop by the florist’s to touch base on arrangements for the wedding. I map-quested the directions and managed with only one misdirection. Today was another story. I need to go the library and the post office which ironically sit next to each other though the are accessible on opposite blocks. Library not a problem, but I had the wrong directions for the post office and being low on frustration tolerance still, I just gave up and went on to the next errand on the list. But, you know how after you have failed at something everything that come next takes on a slightly tinged with impending doom aura? 

Shopping is something that is becoming math-like for me. Despite my best intentions to block out all things American when it comes to money and other units of measurement, I find paying for things flustering. So much of the money here is in coin, and I really haven’t spent enough time looking at it to ascertain the values of the dizzying array of colors, shapes and sizes. So between monetary transactions and having to ask OnStar for directions to the post office, I felt quite like an idiot by the time I left town for home. The drive back is long enough that I was able to put some of the mood behind me and then happy conversation with Jordan over a lunch of leftovers banished the rest of the inadequacy fears, but I still feel a bit silly and think I should be catching on to this whole “being in a new country thing” a bit quicker.

It’s odd to feel as though you are right where you belong and like a fish our of water at the same time. I remind myself that I have accomplished some near Herculean things in the past couple of months, and it is normal to want to catch my breath a bit, but there is a part of me that has always met challenges and new things head on and  wants to charge right in and be perfect now.

As far as I have come, there are still things to do and places yet unknown. Patience not being a virtue of mine (something I actually pride myself on a bit at times), I know that I will have other moments like those today when I admitted defeat and called first Rob and then OnStar. It’s okay, I guess. Columbus probably asked for directions too. Well, maybe he didn’t. He was trying to find India after all. He could have used OnStar. They have turn by turn directions you know, but they can’t help with units of measurement thing.