The Gap Between Us

Confession: I have never actually asked my mother for her opinion or thoughts about Julie. I may have asked her twenty-some years ago when I first introduced them.

If I did, I am sure it probably went something like:

"What do you think? Isn't she great? I hope you think she's great, cause I want to marry her!" Leaving her no way out or room to disagree.

I didn't ask her when we started talking again. Didn't ask for her counsel when I was debating moving my children to Ohio so we could be together. No advice was commissioned when I said we were moving in together. And, now that we've all settled into one big, happy, blended family– I have never asked her what she really thinks of all this. I don't want to say that I've assumed she approves; I just know that she does.

The same way that I knew she didn't approve of my marriage. I didn't ask her. I never went to her with pleading eyes, begging for her insights. I very rarely complained to her about my marriage at all. Because, I knew how she felt. Could feel it in the way she walked into a room with him, the heavy sigh of her breath, the questions or comments she would ask. We didn't have to have the conversation for it to be obvious. Even when things were "good", I knew that she thought I could do better. Knew that she saw things I didn't. Knew that she always had an edge to her voice when speaking to or about him.

Confession: When things weren't good or got worse or there was a fight or incident, I didn't call my mom. I called his. His mother was very much like my best friend for the majority of my marriage. It had taken a while for her to warm up to me. But, eventually, we became a daily part of one another's lives. An entire day did not pass where we didn't see each other, or at the minimum call to check-in. If I was planning a trip to the park or a pumpkin patch, she was coming. We were not just "Holiday" relatives. We did the daily activities; ran errands for each other (or together), met for pancakes on a weekday, saved seats at the kids' games/concerts, had family dinner at least once a week. And, complained about our husbands.

The apple had not fallen far from the tree. Even though they both complained that the other could do a lot more to help out their wife. We laughed at their lack of self-awareness. And, we filled in the gaps.

"He doesn't want to help clean and set up the patio for Easter? I'll stop over after school."

"Don't worry about dragging all of the kids to that appointment. I'll take the littles. Do they need new shoes for summer?"

I declared many times that if we ever divorced, I wanted to keep the family. In many ways, I am certain that my marriage only lasted as long as it did because of the support that I was given from my in-laws. They made it tolerable. Easier. Joyful even. Whether it was money, a babysitter, or a sympathetic ear– they were willing to show up. They helped with the birthday party prep (so many balloons!), held my hand when I had my second miscarriage, held out their own hands when my daughter threw up her breakfast, and encouraged me to stand up for myself. It should be of little surprise, that my marriage lasted less than a year after we had a falling out with the family.

Without my mother-in-law and the rest of the family to serve as a buffer we had no one to turn to but each other. And, we all know how that turned out.

Which brings me to now. My mother barely blinked an eye when I told her I was moving to Ohio. In fact, she found a place to live and secured a job before I did. There was zero hesitation. If I were moving to Ohio with her grandchildren, then that is where she would be. No questions asked. If you walk into her home you will see photos scattered about, her favorites from over the years. Some candid, some professional, some grainy taken from an old iphone. You will also see a wall dedicated to my family. It will have whatever her current favorite photo is of everyone together, probably from Easter, when I force everyone to put on real clothes and go to church, including my mom. There will be a photo of Julie and I, undoubtedly Julie will be eating half my face (iykyk), and all five kids school pictures are prominently displayed. Five. Not three.

Julie's son lives with us full time now, her daughter lives with Julie's ex-wife. My mom has probably only been in the same room with Julie's daughter less than a handful of times. Yet, her school photo is part of my mother's family wall. Because, Julie is my family, which makes Julie's children part of my mother's family. Period. We have never discussed it. There was no moment where I had to clarify for her that this is how the new family dynamic works.

Matt's Mom made my children personalized Christmas ornaments, their names spelled out in Scrabble tiles. Our first Christmas here Julie and didn't live together yet, but when my mom saw my tree she immediately bought the supplies and made matching ornaments for the twins. She couldn't bear the thought of them feeling left out or off of my tree. It hadn't even occurred to me, but that is who my mom is. She never wants anyone to feel left out.

Confession: Julie and I have been together for almost three years. Her mother still doesn't acknowledge me. Sure, she knows I exist. She watches my socials, never commenting or liking anything. She can hear me in the background sometimes when Julie is on the phone with her. She is mostly pleasant when we have been in the same room. She says hello to my children and has even sent them gifts they mentioned wanting after a visit here. But, there is no acknowledgment of our blended family. If you know me, you know that I go above and beyond to make sure anyone in my proximity is comfortable. I am an outgoing and friendly person by nature.

In the beginning I thought that she was just weary and skeptical. As a mom, I can appreciate that. I thought that eventually she would see that we were committed and soften towards me. We don't have to be best friends or friends at all, but there is a level of intimacy that comes with being family that I don't think we will ever attain. On her last visit to the house she asserted that since Julie and are not married that it would be perfectly acceptable for Julie to have more than one girlfriend. My step-son was not a fan of this logic and said as much. Not gonna lie, I was too stunned to have a response. Appalled, maybe? Angry, definitely.

I keep thinking there must be something more I can do to bridge this gap. I have invited them to Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. Last Christmas I sent a basket. I used to chime in when they would be on facetime, trying to build some sort of friendly rapport. To no avail. Twenty-something years ago, I lived with Julie, in her parents' house. I am "new", but not that new.

They expect Julie to come home, but have not extended an invite to myself or my children. We are not family. Julie spends Christmas with us and then travels to Pittsburgh spend time with her family. They still take a family vacation every summer to their beach house. I should mention, that this past year has been different, Julie was unable to travel while on chemo. So, we didn't have to have the tough discussions about who she would disappoint.

I always volunteer for it to be me. I know she loves me. I know she doesn't want to hurt anyone. I know she wishes things could be different; that her family could give us the same support and respect that strangers on the internet do.

Not sure how to end this... my heart is heavy.

For me. For her. For them.

I plan to spend the rest of my life with Julie.

Our children fully support this.

We make each other better– better versions of our true selves.

Isn't that what life is all about?

To My Mom,

Thank you for always accepting me. Loving me. Supporting me. Even when maybe deep down you really didn't. Thank you for being a better Yia Yia than you were a mom. For choosing them over everything. And, for opening your heart to this blended family without a moment's hesitation.

To His Mom,

Thank you for being the mom I needed to help raise these babies. For being the best GG a kid could ask for. Thank you for the years of memories, traditions, and love that I will carry with me forever. And, thank you for continuing to show up in the best way you know how to for your grandchildren.

To Her Mom,

Thank you for creating the human that I call home. Thank you for allowing her to grow into this amazing woman, who I now get to build a life with. I hope that someday we can celebrate her together. She really is someone who warrants being celebrated.