Living Happily Ever After

test123

Blog Articles

And Dinner Was Served

“Men are like fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and its our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you’d like to have dinner with.” (Kathleen Mifsud)

Unless you’re #5 and you start out mature (ie. older) and YOU do the stomping by dumping your fiancee BEFORE dinner! It happened like this…

On that fateful Sunday night, #5 had invited his family to my home for dinner. He arrived early to help with preparations, all of our children were in the basement and we were in my kitchen. Somehow we got on the subject of two children (one of his, one of mine) and we had a disagreement.

“Thus, we see that one of the obvious origins of human disagreement lies in the use of noises for words.” (Algred Korzbyski)

He dug his heels in in defense of his son, I dug my heels in in defense of my son, and things degenerated from there. It got so petty we even argued about the boys’ ages. When I suggested his son was the older child so he should set more of the example, he corrected me, saying his son was just one year older so they were basically the same age. In a burst of maturity I got even more petty by correcting the age difference: “Well, if you’re going to get so specific and picky about it, your son is actually 19 MONTHS older–and two years older in school!” (Wow. 19 months. Two years in school.  That’s a lifetime. Petty, I know.)

Unexpectedly, he stood up and said he would get his son and leave. He had NEVER done that before, by the way. He turned and walked out of the room. I stood there, alone in my kitchen, stunned.

I was dumbfounded.

Leave? Because of a disagreement? When his family was due to arrive any minute? We hadn’t had many disagreements our entire engagement–I think I’ve chronicled all two of them–but he headed to the basement to call his son. For some reason, I followed him.

“You’re just going to leave?” I asked.

He was. He said he was sorry, but that he just couldn’t do it anymore. That maybe the timing was bad. That he’d never planned to get married until his son was 18, but then he’d met me and it had changed everything. However, after all of the time we had spent together and during the course of our long engagement, there were things that hadn’t changed and he didn’t know what else to do–so he was leaving.

I was appalled. “You’re going to leave, without even fighting FOR us?”

Before he could answer, in the pause, the doorbell rang.

His family.

It was like a bad movie.

Too late to leave, #5 expressed his displeasure with a roll of his eyes, muttered, “Oh, CRAP!” and then kicked into performer/entertainer mode. He answered the door with a smile, acted like everything was fine and normal, was friendly to everyone (except me) and prepared to serve dinner. Unfortunately, I’m not an actress.

His brother walked in, took one look at me and asked, “Andrea, are you all right?” To which I lied, “Yes, fine!” He looked at me, puzzled, and asked again, “Are you sure? You look tired or something.” I changed the subject and carried on. Or attempted to, anyway.

Later, as the kids came up for dinner, my high school son walked in, took one look at me and asked, “Mom? Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

And dinner was served.

“Here they are, top of the food chain, and dinner is served.” (Jeffrey Jones, “The Devil’s Advocate”)

On The Brink of a New Frontier

Looking back, it was a huge event. Kind of a momentous, life-changing moment. What were my thoughts?

I couldn’t imagine that we had found each other and were actually going to meet. I was going to meet “The Mystery Woman.”

I wondered what she looked like in person. My entire life I’d envisioned a beautiful heroine, my birth mother, who had loved me enough to carry me and then place me for adoption. Every time I’d watched “The Miss America Pageant” growing up, I’d wondered if one of the beauties on-stage was her. (Or at least if she looked like one of the beautiful women participating.)

I wondered if she was as nice and loving in person as she seemed on the phone. It seemed almost too good to be true. Not upset I’d shown up in her life unexpectedly AND she was loving, caring and kind, to boot?

I thought about how wished I’d been given more notice about meeting her so I could have lost a few pounds! (It always comes down to that for women, doesn’t it? Lol.)

Despite the fact it had been 42 years in coming, I “suddenly” found myself standing in front of her door, hand reaching toward the doorbell. The moment had come much sooner than I’d expected. I couldn’t imagine what was in store for me. What would it be like to meet a “stranger,” yet a mother, for the first time?

I’d know soon enough. Seconds away, I’d know everything.

“If you think there are no new frontiers, watch a boy ring the front doorbell on his first date.” (Olin Miller) Or, watch a 42-year-old woman ring the doorbell of her birth mother for the very first time!

I pushed the doorbell button, heard the chime, and tried to prepare myself for the opening of the door.

But really, how do you prepare for a moment like that?