We made it to Nevada!
Barely. But we made it.
Two daughters, an entire household worth of furniture, boxes, emotions, and enough tension to make you wonder whether bubble wrap should be used for people instead of dishes.
Welcome to blended family life!
Where everyone is supposed to be happy, everyone has feelings, and apparently the rest of us are supposed to walk on eggshells to make sure nobody gets upset.
Sounds delightful, doesn’t it?
Now, let’s discuss the household situation.
Fighter Pilot Dude brought a bar, a sofa table, a bed, a two-seat recliner, and a few kitchen items into this marriage.
Me?
EVERYTHING. ELSE.
Furniture. Household goods. Everything necessary to turn four walls into an actual home.
I wasn’t just moving to Nevada. Apparently, I was opening a fully furnished branch office.
You’re welcome.
Once we arrived, we started unpacking boxes and trying to get everyone settled. You know, doing all those fun things that come with moving across the country.
Except we weren’t just unpacking boxes. We were unpacking a whole lot of emotions, too.
Fighter Pilot Dude’s kids were there for the summer, which meant their wants and activities became a major part of our daily schedule.
His son went to the skate park almost every day. And I’ll give him credit. He was trying. He actually spoke to us. Started conversations. Participated.
His daughter?
Well.
She pretty much moved into her bedroom and established permanent residency in her bed.
Every day.
Then she’d complain that her back hurt.
Ma’am. You’ve been horizontal since breakfast. Perhaps we should investigate that connection.
Conversations with her were equally thrilling.
“How was your day?”
“Fine.”
“Want something to eat?”
“No.”
And that was about the extent of it.
She rarely initiated a conversation with anyone other than her father. When he was at work, she essentially ignored the rest of us.
Nothing brings a blended family together quite like pretending half the family doesn’t exist.
Meanwhile, my girls were trying to adjust to an entirely new state, a new house, and a new family dynamic.
Remember, they’d left their friends, their schools, and everything familiar behind.
And I was trying to make this whole arrangement feel like home.
No pressure.
Now, before we go any further, there’s something important you need to know.
Fighter Pilot Dude was officially divorced by this point.
Oh, yes.
And THAT story deserves its own chapter.
We’ll get to that next Saturday. Trust me.
But back to our regularly scheduled circus.
With everyone settling in, Fighter Pilot Dude and I decided it was time to make this whole marriage thing official.
Off to the courthouse we went!
We filled out the paperwork, handled the necessary formalities, and were given a date to return for the ceremony.
How romantic.
Honestly, I think I’ve experienced more excitement waiting for my number to be called at the DMV.
Looking back, perhaps the complete lack of excitement should have been a clue.
But there I was.
New state. New house. New family.
And soon, a new husband.
What could possibly go wrong?
Oh, sweet summer child.
Now, we had a wedding date.
Which brought us to the next question.
Who was going to tell the kids?
Because announcing the engagement had gone SO spectacularly well.
And now we were going to announce an actual wedding date?
Wonderful.
I was beginning to think the courthouse ceremony would be the least stressful part of getting married.
Same circus. Different state. And we hadn’t even said “I do” yet.
To be continued…
Until next time… xoxo
Tracy
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