The Extramarital Parent

I need to simply trust myself. I will know what to write when I pick up the pen and go to write it.

It is something I need to think less about and let the thoughts flow from my heart. It is often how I approach this blog. I may not have a single relevant or novel thought in my head when I sit down at my desk. Once I flip open the laptop, log on and read the last entry I wrote, something will strike a note. There will be some thread to follow. Some musing I recall that needs to be elaborated upon.

Sometimes it is easy...like when Mom comes to town. Other times, I have to ponder. Think about what shreds of my life might add up to something of interest to another human being. Even if the other human being is sometimes only Charlotte.

The truth is, I may not have been in Scott's life while his girls were babies, or toddlers, or grade schoolers or during any of the other milestone years. I may have missed the religious ceremonies, and dance recitals, and a whole lot of drama. But I am here now. And intend to be for quite some time. What I have established with Scott matters to his girls. How I love him and how we get along is relevant to them. What I wouldn't have given to know that my Dad would be loved and adored and cared for by a woman he loved as I walked out the door to attend college! The guilt alone just about killed me that first year. Had I had the luxury of knowing that he had a partner to fret with, to wring his hands with, to share the driving with, to question my choices with, to send me brownies and care packages he wasn't sure whether he should send, I would have felt less horrible when he sounded so lonely on the phone. (I still blame my lame-o brother, Joe.)

So, as graduation approaches, I am hopeful I will find my groove. Figure out what, from among all the things I feel and all I could say, will make the most impact to Scott's first child. What will encourage her, give her motivation, make her proud, give her peace, let her know how happy I am to have met her and gotten to know her before she left the nest and could choose to take or leave whatever happens at home. Let her know that I believe in her and she should believe in herself. That when what she believes to be her path takes a wildly unexpected turn in another direction, that there is a thoughtful person with a kind and gentle hand of experience who will patiently hold hers while she cries and doubts and searches for answers, not because it is required, but because it is genuine. Because I came into her life when there were no obligations on either of our parts. And we chose to get to know each other anyway and were delighted at what we've learned.

It is such a responsibility to be this person.

You never have to think about these things with your own children. That responsibility is enormous, but what you are to them and they to you is written in the book long before you enter each other's lives. You make your mistakes with your first, ignore (by comparison) your second, indulge your third, and so on. But you act from the heart and trust yourself because you have loved your children from the moment there was even the idea of them. They are who they are because of your love, and guidance, and mistakes, and less flattering parenting moments, and they have learned through your examples, and mimicked your voice, and emulated your more admirable traits. It is so natural it is nearly unnoticeable.

But when you come into someone's life when they are 17, they are who they are, distinctly because of your absence from their lives. And your sudden presence in their lives can be hard to figure out. For both of you. I could use a vining rod on most days. Your best, most heartfelt advice could be completely unwelcome. Your professional guidance undone by their mother's proclamations. It's hard to know when to step in, when to butt out. What will be welcomed with open arms, what will get you ordered to go fly a kite, or something similar. It is a dance I am always learning new steps to. And not always gracefully.

But I am blessed to have been asked to dance. For that I am grateful. And whatever awkwardness there is, is worth enduring for the trip to the dance floor holding the hands of those who matter most.