Last weekend all of my children, grandchildren and grand-dogs were at my house for about 24 hours. That means there were 9 adult humans, 9 children between 2 weeks and 9 years old, 2 Great Danes, 2 German Short-Haired Pointers and 1 Australian Shepherd in my home. It’s absolute chaos. It’s exhausting. The aftermath takes me a full week to recover from. I am abundantly lucky to experience it with decent regularity. They are my life, and my life is good.
I never pictured it like this. I didn’t want four children. I had my heart set on two. A boy, then a girl. But what really happened was a boy, then a divorce, then a marriage that came with two boys and a girl. I was 25 when I got married the first time, 26 when my son was born and 28 when I got divorced. I married my husband just shy of 30, and became a full-time parent to kids who had already taken damage from the world that was supposed to protect them.
It didn’t occur to me then, as we were trying to piece this family together and put bandaids we couldn’t afford over bullet holes they couldn’t fix, that having four children could translate into 9 grandchildren before I turn 50.
My children come with drama. Every time, without fail. This one is worried about her new baby. That one has a sick pet at home. The other one makes passive aggressive comments about being left out of an activity. Someone has hurt someone else’s feelings. It’s always something. They are good people and good kids, but they aren’t neurotypical and their atypicality doesn’t always play nicely with one another. Even now. Even though they love each other.
Their emotions are big, even as adults. If you’re wondering how your child with anxiety or depression or ADHD or any other neurodivergence will behave as an adult – if you think there is a “Phew, now we’re through it” moment coming – you might want to stop reading. If you think a successfully blended family stops having biology vs. step issues once the blending is ‘done,’ you need to prepare yourself otherwise. That’s not how it’s gone for us, and my story is the only one I’m able to tell you. The good news is, you’ll find your footing, and so will they.
In this blog you’ll read my stories. They are personal and messy and beautiful – at least to me. I have survived storms because I’m anchored by faith in God and my family. I am still living some of those storms, and still picking through the debris left behind by others. I love my life and I hope some of my stories will help you love yours too.
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