When I was little I wanted to grow up and be a teacher who had hair so long it dragged on the ground. I wanted to get married and have two children; one boy and one girl. That was it, specific, to the point and simple.

Well perhaps our childish dreams don’t always come true, but maybe that is for the best. I was previously married to a man for almost a decade and it was a marriage of ups and downs. It was abusive and at times it was fabulous. However, as it often does the bad got worse and it came to the point where I couldn’t allow myself to stay. I was unhappy, I was no longer myself and I was scared of being hurt. No one should ever have to worry about getting backhanded just because their spouse decided that he might not be in a good mood and a hefty punch or kick might alleviate some of that aggravation.

So I left. It took me a long time, but I did it. The best thing about it is that I didn’t go back. I had a loving family who (not much to my surprise) was glad that I finally let go and decided to move on. The divorce proceeded rather smoothly. He attempted to get me to go back to him, but I remained strong and I didn’t!

Move forward a couple of years and I meet a new guy. Oh not just some average run of the mill guy but a GREAT guy. A guy who I became friends with, but never in a million years would have though he would be interested in me. I mean after all if you look up average and plain in the dictionary you would see a picture of me. I am what I call a “blender.” I have always blended in; one of those people you see on the street but can recall nothing about. I am shy and that is how I liked it. However, when I met him I wished that there was something about me that would stand out. I am not girly so there was no hope of him noticing high heels or lipstick on me. Here I was, just flip flops and Chapstick. Little did I know he thought that it was endearing that I didn’t feel the need to dress up my face or body. He liked that I was “low maintenance.” I thought here we go again, I’m about to be my normal “one of the guys.” I grew up a tomboy so I always have had guy friends who just wanted to be buddies with me because of my laid back style.

Then one day he grabbed my hand and he held it. I didn’t know what to do so I just sat there in shock and loved every second of it. Fast forward…I married a divorced (and wonderful) man with three beautiful children with one crazy ex thrown in for good measure. It wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, but I had finally found the person I actually wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The fairytale stuff you see in movies…He was what I wanted and he WANTED me. The kids terrified me, but I give it my best everyday and the ex is well…unique. Basically this blog is to show that while I didn’t grow up to have hair that reached the ground I did get the man of my dreams and three kids instead of just two that I had wanted. While I didn’t get my children by conventional means they are still what I consider “my kids.” I just share them with three other parents. No, their biological mom and I aren’t the best of friends by any stretch of the imagination, but for the most part we do ok. The issues won’t ever go away, but my husband and I have a family with our three kids and we love them.

I just wanted to remind myself of why I am here with this man (whom I love dearly) and his three kids. No frustration is ever too much to forget that. I am blessed to have him and even more so because he has been willing to allow me to love his children as well.