Family

WMD = My Dad’s Wife

Everyone knows the reference: WMD…the unfound Weapons of Mass Destruction that propelled us into the Iraq War.

Well, I am the MDW: My Dad’s Wife. I am found by some of his kids/grandkids and ex-wife to be the embodiment of a WMD. The initials just got jostled around a bit.

Just as bad as misinformation led to the war…it has led to many miseries in my personal life.

From day one of dating Lonnie, I knew I was Number Three…behind his kids and his work. I just took that as a normal. If work called or his kids…my wants and needs would be addressed after those priorities.

Don’t get me wrong. If you have read any of my blog posts over the past couple of years you know I love Lonnie and I am devoted to him. Just like I told my friend today…”third time is a charm!” I am blessed and happy to have him in my life. I just know I am usually not his first thought in the morning or his last at night.

I was glad when he retired. I thought I was going to be moved up to #2. But, I am pretty sure that is not the case. His retired friends and golf have filled the work void. So, I can’t even say I am Avis Rental Car Company. I try really hard…but can’t make it to the top two.

A few weeks back we attended his eldest granddaughter’s high school graduation party. These kid inspired parties are especially hard on me. This one in Southern California meant no car. Before I even booked the flight my hopes were fading fast. No way and nowhere to escape a function where I am extremely unwanted, unwelcome and unwarranted.

I am the thrice married second wife of what I feel is an overlooked and underappreciated grandpa/dad. I am very sensitive to this since I had neither a grandpa nor dad as an adult. My dad was taken from me when I was just 18. I never knew either of my grandpas since they both died before I was born.

What I see is a bunch of kids…of all ages not appreciating the gift they have and it bothers me a lot.

Anyway, back to the party. By fly time…I have worked myself into a cortisol* stupor and my am bloated beyond my own recognition. Just when I need to feel my best and sassy to face this crowd, my jeans won’t button and my dress and clothes size has expanded. I desperately search Nordstrom Rack for a pair of shorts that at least zip up and snap.

3PM party time and we arrive with my two bottles of wine in tow. I think that at least I can drink to relax. However, I drained one bottle and as I looked at the dry bottom unfazed by the effects of the alcohol, I thought better of popping the second Pinot Grigio.

So, as the party ebbed and flowed in and out of the room, Lonnie and I sat alone as the others gathered in other parts of his daughter’s apartment pool cabaña room. The official party finally over with presents opened, we followed the crowd into his daughter’s lodgings for the after party for what was explained more visiting.

Sticking strictly to water…I could not do anything but sit on the sofa with Lonnie. You could tell we were not welcome to join his ex-wife, daughter, granddaughters and others in various rooms in the apartment where they congregated to laugh and talk. So, we sat. Played games on our phones and kept quiet.

Finally after six excruciating hours, we were on the way back to our bed for the night. A very comfy room relinquished by another granddaughter by another daughter. It was lovely to get back to her welcoming home and bed.

I did my best to support the husband I love. However, no good deed goes unpunished. Seems I made a faux pas at the party….and it was brought to my attention after we got home. I asked his granddaughter too many times (2) to open her gift from grandpa separately from the rest. She refused. Apparently I was not sensitive to her wants/needs.

Oh my. Oh well. The last of my cortisol came crashing out in a big sob fest. He was surprised by my reaction and told me he hoped I didn’t feel too bad. I did. He thinks I am overreacting, I don’t.

Just as he was answering a friend’s text while I pour out my soul, the doorbell gets the dogs up. I wiped my eyes, blew my nose and pulled open the door. The gape reveled the FedEx lady. She was delivering my new work phone.

After I signed for the package, she took me in her arms and hugged me. I was astonished and more than surprised. She was about my age and seemed normal enough…until her arms enveloped me. I hugged back lightly and patted her and thanked her for the delivery. “Anytime, we aim to please.” She said as she hopped down the steps.

The next day I was explaining my previous day to my friend and she immediately told me the hug was sent from my long deceased dad. Although Lonnie had hugged me while I was crying…I guess my dad knew I needed more.

My friend was right, I needed a good hug and it came on my front porch with the delivery of a package. Although I did hug Ms. FedEx back, now knowing where it came from, I wish I had held on a bit longer and hugged tighter.

*Cortisol, a stress hormone causes bloat, weight gain, constipation and other familiar maladies.

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