This blog is not for the light-hearted or easily offended. If either one of those descriptions applies to you, i would suggest you start drinking before you read this blog. A sense of humor is suggested. If you don't have one that sucks for you … find one and get a life!
Today’s guest on Go Ahead, amuse me is Dani of “The Girlfriend Mom.” Here’s what she had to say about herself!
Dani’s first headshot was her mugshot, taken after getting arrested for tagging in the town where she grew up. Other lofty accomplishments include working out at the NYU gym alongside Adam Sandler, while attending film school. She followed that up with a move to Los Angeles, where she worked out at a gym alongside Facts Of Life star, Mindy Cohen, while attending The American Film Institute.
The Girlfriend Mom is caught between living a life as a single girlfriend and the life of a stepmom-ish-ness-like person. Did I say caught? I meant trapped
Guess who’s coming to dinner and staying for a month? If you guessed a dapper black man named Sidney Poitier, sadly, you’d be wrong. Great guess, but still wrong. The answer is my boyfriend’s 18 year-old daughter. Ah!
She lives in a dorm at school in NYC and has off until January 17th. What the f’ is up with our educational system? I do not remember having a month off when I was in college. A few months ago, she asked her dad if she could live with us, instead of her mother (she cited issues) when she’s on vacation and over the summer. What could he say? “Of course.” My “Of course” was uttered through clenched teeth and a forced smile.
I like my boyfriend’s daughter. We get along quite well, and we do stuff together. I’m pretty sure that she likes me. C’mon, what’s not to like? My apprehension and hesitation had more to do with that old stand by, “I didn’t sign up for this.” And like every other child related event that’s been hurled at me since my boyfriend and I moved in together, this too will take time to process.
I’m not used to having another body around. Another body that doesn’t know how to put dishes in the dishwasher. Another body that takes my nail polish and doesn’t return it. Another body that is a messy eater. Another body that didn’t know to knock before entering a closed door. Another body lurking around the house, so that now I can’t lurk around the house naked. Another body sleeping in the room next door, so now my boyfriend and I have to keep the television on to drown out the noise when we do sexy stuff. Oh, and believe you me, there’s noise.
I know that this is yet another piece of the Girlfriend Mom puzzle, but I was just getting used to soccer Sundays. I wasn’t expecting to live with a child for more than 48 hours every other weekend. I didn’t see this one coming.
In the short time that she’s been with us, I’ve learned a lot about myself. And really, who needs that?! When the four of us played board games over the Christmas break, I felt like a stepmom in a Lifetime movie, for the first time in five years. I was the odd man out, the one that didn’t belong. The non-blood relation. I glanced over at the three of them and their profound closeness, wafted in the air. I felt a million miles away.
I try to convey to my boyfriend that what he and his kids have been used to with their mother, is naturally going to be a different dynamic with me. I’m not their mother. They’re not my kids. Sometimes I’m uncomfortable with the familiarity that they share. I’m traveling in foreign territory without a GPS system, and often I don’t know why I’m feeling the way that I do.
I cannot move any faster than my feelings will allow. Perhaps it’s simply a question of time and patience. I’m honoring, not judging. Wow, that got serious quickly. Moving on.
Why do the kids have to take showers in our bathroom? They have a brand new gorgeous one to use. I don’t understand (just one in a long list of things I don’t understand) Is it because they see it as a treat? Do they feel closer to their dad? The question I ask myself is, “Why does it ruffle my feathers?”
I lived alone for a long time before I moved in with my boyfriend. I’m used to my privacy and not having to share, unless I wanted to. For crying out loud, my boyfriend and I are still learning to live with each another. Now you add children to the mix, without having the benefit of years of practice, and poof! I’ve got disruption of routine, rhythm, style and wet towels on the bathroom floor.
Change doesn’t come easily for a lot of people (especially my mother, don’t ask) and apparently this change doesn’t come easily to me either. I can uproot myself from a 16-year stint in Los Angeles, selling everything from fork to car, and move to Prague, but living with kids scares me. My boyfriend has to realize that I have absolutely no experience living with children to draw upon. My toolbox is empty.
I’m trying not to make a mountain out of a mole hill, because the reality is, none of it is life threatening. The emotions that this situation stirs in me sometimes gives me pause.
How much of my crap, and by crap, I mean my feelings, are unresolved personal issues, or my hot buttons? Perhaps these little people are my triggers. Damn them! Why do they have to unleash, overturn and bring up what I’ve worked so hard to shove down.
I met a very wise woman the other day, who recently lost her fourth husband. She has both biological and step children. We shared stories of the children in our lives, to which she said, through held back years, “Just love them. That’s all they want.”
And that’s what I plan to do. Dishes in the dishwasher or not.
Go ahead, amuse me is a weekly posting I will be having featuring another funny blogger. Or maybe not a blogger … you could just be a funny person. So, if you would like to be featured all you have to do is email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and send me a funny post. If I AGREE that it’s funny, I’ll simply put up your post with a short intro that you write so that my readers will check out your blog. Of course, you also need to put up a link to my blog saying that you’re being featured over here.
See? WIN-WIN … hope to hear from you … or not!