Blended families don't fail, remarriages do.

Alan and I thought we had everything figured out.  I listened to a lot of what he said because he had been in a blended family for most of his adult life.  My 'duh' mistake was that clearly those marriages didn't work so perhaps seeking alternate ways of doing things would have allowed different results.  I also wish there was someone who would've sat down with us and explained all the shit that was about to hit the fan.  The things you don't think of interrupting your marriage.  You are not just marrying the person who says "I do", you are marrying their kids, exes and anyone else in the family who thinks there two cents needs to be heard.  You are also marrying the baggage.  Yup, suitcases full.

In January we went to a counselor for the first time.  This took me two years of asking Alan to go to finally get a "yes".  I choose to share this experience because I know that whether or not they will publicly admit it people are going through something similar, have been through it or are about to enter a blended family, with their eyes wide shut.  STOP!  Let's chat first. Please.

Our session started off with the counselor looking at us after a few minutes with a blank, mouth ajar stare and in complete awe over how we are even together.  I think "shocked" was the word he used that we had not thrown in the towel. One of the problems is there are so many issues with the kids from the last six years that those issues erupt in a current argument and trying to get all this out was quite challenging.  I think we had this guy confused to the core on how we even function.  Before we married I asked Alan how we were going to make it work and his reply: "like a well oiled machine."

Darling, someone threw a wrench in the operation.

I think the counselor saw one thing that is clear.  We love each other and want our marriage to work.  Problem is neither is willing to bend to get to happiness. To be honest I figured I would be a hot mess in there with tears just streaming down my face waahhh waaah waaah coming out of my mouth.  Instead we all kind of chuckled now and then at how dysfunctional we actually are but still together.  He even gave us statistics of blended families as if to say ....  "you are fucked."  I was going off about eight things at once and he was all "my gosh you are ADD."  I am all "I have a lot I am pissed off about and am trying to get it all out in this one session and yes, I am quite ADD."  Alan chimes in "we both are..."  That was one of the chuckling moments.  There was a whole lot of head shaking going on.  A lot was said and he ended the session kind of unsure of the direction in which to point us (besides the eff out of his office).  He left us with this:  he wanted us to go off for a few days with each other and not bring up the kids whatsoever.  To "see if we still have the foundation on which we even got into the relationship." 
I am glad we left it like that.  No, not because we get a weekend away with no kids, though that doesn't hurt, but because that last line really made me think.  It opened up a whole new thought process for me about us.  The foundation that made us want to be us.  I realized that while floating down the aisle at my other two marriages  I was planning my escape route.  Not with Alan though.  At our pig pickin' casual wedding I couldn't wait to become Mrs. Alan Perry.  Shit had not reared it's ugly head yet.

There are so many things that people should know before blending families.  I feel like God is calling me to help others and perhaps within that I can help myself.

By the way, our marriage counseling appointment was on January 17th and we haven't even had a date night never mind time away to work on us and with our (his) schedules I don't see one in the future.  It's amazing how people react when you stop allowing yourself to be every body's doormat.  Our past baggage isn't each others to fix but it is right there in between us. Alan once told me that he would still be with his most recent ex if she hadn't left him.  I don't think that he realizes what that says to me is "I really want to be with someone else, but you'll do as an OK second."

Well, second best I am tired of being.

Somewhere between hell and California...Barstow that is.

I have been writing again!   Though I have plenty to bitch about in my current life I thought I would share a bit from what will one day be on the New York Times Best Seller list.  I have yet to come up with a title but when I do I am sure it will be fabulous.  After all, tales from this Diva just keep getting more and more delish. 
Yum- yum.  Read on.  Oh, but keep in mind this has not been to the editor!

We are finally seeing signs of civilization. 

Campground.  Yay.  I hop out as soon as we stop.  For some reason I was expecting relief and a cool breeze.  Instead it was like jumping from one sauna to another.  I grabbed Jake and Em and went into the store.  As always, we arrived late but this time we got there just in the nick o’ time while the store was still open for five more minutes.   Ice cream.  Heck to the yes.  I picked one out for everyone and brought them back to the Rv.  Me, Jake and Em were the only ones who ate them.  Whatever.  A pool.  Alan shocked me by offering to take the kids swimming. 

I also purchased the coins you need to take a shower here in the bath house.  Glad I got those after all the sweating of the day.  Ahhhhh the water felt so good as it washed over me.  Bedtime.  What a pain in the ass bedtime is turning the table into my kids bed, the couch into our bed and getting everyone to shut their mouths and eyes.  All I wanted was an hour with a tv and the E! or Bravo channel…

Quieting my mind is hard, eventually I drifted off to sleep. 

I awoke to find I wanted another shower.  Off to the bath house at the crack of dawn it was.  I always have a tiny fear that someone will break in and slit my throat.   Those coins I purchased were because there are locks on the stall doors.  I liked that.  God knows nobody would think to crawl underneath in those two feet at the bottom of the door if they really wanted to get to you. 

So I quickly showered, dried off and dressed.  I opened the door.  Oh my God.  Ahhhhh what is this?   There was a woman, I guess to be about in her late 50’s with her boobs flappin’ over the sink as she washed her armpits.  Holy fuck.  Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look I screamed to myself. There she stood with nothing but shorts on.   No!  This isn’t happening!  As I can’t hide anything, the expression on my face was, I am sure, priceless.   I can’t do my makeup with that next to me.  Don’t look, don’t look   <peek>    UGH!  I couldn’t help it.  It’s like when you meet someone and their fly is down and all you can hear is yourself telling you not to look down but you do anyway.  And then they are forever etched in your mind as guy with fly down.  They have no name to you and never will.

Hair and makeup can wait.  Must exit STAT.

Okie dokie that was a taste of it.  Can't give away too much.  Cheers!