First off: Halloween. Best. Halloween. Ever. I will emphasize here that all four kids spent Halloween with someone besides us. You may infer what you wish about the quality of the holiday and the absence of the kids, but its the truth. For my band, Halloween is the biggest night of the year, and it was truly stellar. It was followed by the Goddess and me enjoying ourselves in a proper debauched fashion and didn't end until about 7:30 A.M.
We did retrieve the kids the next day and it seems they had a pretty good holiday, too, which is good, I suppose. I mean, kids should get in on the fun, too.
The week was spent mostly planning a wedding, which is honestly a bit of an extension of Halloween.
We hit the party supply shops' post-Halloween sales and got some things for the wedding: toasting glasses, masks, a couple gallons of blood. If you're like me and basically celebrate all year long, these places are a gold mine on November 1.
Eva agreed to officiate for the wedding. She had to become ordained, which is remarkably easy online, and then register with the state. I think she's going to play it as some sort of combination voodoo/pagan priestess. We worked with her a bit on the ceremony, which is something I especially enjoy.
The Goddess' mother is designing and making a lot of the clothes for the wedding, including a vest and frock coat for me. There will be just a touch of steampunk flavor to the event, and that's right up her alley.
We found a location, too, which is excellent. It's an historic chapel that is no longer in use -- which is good, because we have lots of sacrilege planned for the ceremony. It was built in the early 19th century and has a very picturesque graveyard adjoining the building. It took several hours of emails and phone calls to find who was in charge, but reserving it was easy and very cheap.
The moment that we were most nervous about was telling the older kids we were getting married.
The Goddess brought herself and the two older kids to live here almost two years ago. Like a lot of "blended families," we've had our ups and downs. As a "step-dad," it's difficult to figure out your role. You aren't replacing their father (unless he has died, I suppose), and I feel very strongly that you tread lightly on that topic with them. The kids talk about their biological father whenever they feel like it. I listen and try to reinforce their positive feelings about him because he is very much a part of them.
A lot of advice about step-parenting says, "Don't assume the role of disciplinarian," which is all well and good, to a point. But when the Goddess has her hands full with a screaming baby, a toddler who keeps dumping jars of herbs and spices in the floor, a seven-year-old who is having an emotional breakdown because she was asked to practice ten minutes of violin, and an eleven-year-old who lied about homework again, I feel like I should probably do more than see what's on Netflix. So while I'm certainly not the primary disciplinarian, I've assumed a role as "the other adult" in the house.
I suppose I hope they also manage to see the other roles I play, at least to a certain extent: "breadwinner," occasional cook, dishwasher, and the like.
One day a few months after they moved in, the evening discussion centered around "How Do We Refer to You to Our Friends at School?" After some time, it was decided that they both would say that I was their roommate and butler.
A few months after that, the seven-year-old (then six) told me that she tells everyone I'm her step-dad. I literally cried the first time she brought home art work from school depicting each member of the family with the word "DAD" under my face. (She doesn't call me "Dad," by the way, I'm just guessing that was simpler to spell in kindergarten.)
The issue honestly doesn't come up as often as you might think. When we first discussed getting married to the kids, the eleven-year-old (then ten) said he didn't want anything to change. He didn't seem distraught or anything -- just expressing an opinion. When I gave the Goddess an engagement ring last Christmas, he asked about it and what it meant. Then he asked if it was real diamond. Then he asked if it meant I was rich. Then he talked about how diamonds are used in Minecraft. Then he asked how much an actual sword made out of diamonds would cost.
The Goddess was extremely nervous about telling them about the actual wedding -- that we had a date picked, that it was soon, and that we would be married. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal, but I've been known to be wrong.
We sat them down on the couch Tuesday night and told them we needed to talk to them about something important. I waited for the Goddess to begin. She looked at me, expectantly. We did that for about five minutes while the kids looked at iPads and asked if they could be excused. Finally, she began.
The Goddess: "You know that I've been wearing an engagement ring for awhile now. Well, we've decided to get married."
Seven-year-old: "When?"
The Goddess: "In just a few weeks."
Eleven-year-old: "Why?"
Me: "Well, the reasons are mostly financial. Do you guys know what income taxes are? Well, I would have to pay a lot more if your mom and I weren't married. That would mean that we would have less money to pay bills -- and less money for iPads and vacations and all that sort of thing."
Seven-year-old: "So you'll have more money if you get married?"
Me: "Yes."
Eleven-year-old: "So can we get a pool now?"
Me <confused>: "Well, I don't know if we'll have that much money. And the back yard is really small anyway. And it's uneven."
Eleven-year-old: "My friend at school has a pool in his back yard and their yard is smaller than ours."
Me: "I don't think we could dig into the ground deep enough --"
Eleven-year-old: "Their pool is above ground."
The Goddess: "I'd want a hot tub before we got a pool."
Seven-year-old: "So we're getting a hot tub?"
The Goddess: "That's what I'd prefer."
Me: "No one said we're getting a hot tub."
Eleven-year-old: "Mom said we were."
Seven-year-old: "Yay! We're getting a hot tub!"
The Goddess: "I'd worry that the babies would fall into a pool and get hurt."
Eleven-year-old: "Not if it is above ground."
Seven-year-old: "We should get a pool and a hot tub!"
Etc.
This continued for some time. So the conversation about getting married consisted of about thirty seconds of marriage discussion and fifteen minutes of explaining why we can't get a pool to the Goddess and her children.
Sometimes your role in the family becomes clear all by itself.
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