You know how when it rains, it pours? Well, in the last two days, The Welder and I have determined that it is indeed pouring and we need a bigger umbrella. Or perhaps an ark. I'm speaking figuratively, of course, as it's still too cold here to rain -- any precipitation would be frozen, frozen, frozen. So many things have gone wrong here in the last two days. However, many, many things have not, and I'm trying to focus on those things (I'm a big fan of the silver lining).
All of the kids are healthy (now that I've said it out loud, look out!), everyone's doing well in school, we have a home, and electricity, and heat, and food, and vehicles that run (again, now that I've said it out loud...). We are blessed to have made a new family, something which neither of us thought we'd have again. The Welder and I both went through pretty bad divorces (what divorce is "good," really), and we both, independently of each other, of course, had fallen in love with the idea of being alone for the rest of our lives. Then we became friends and fell in love with each other, which tossed that silly Being Alone idea right out on its keister.
What's pouring on us right now is just Life Stuff, and it'll pass. I need more hours at work. I need to be able to just finish school already (this would most likely alleviate the needing more hours). We would love for the petty, lingering junk from our respective divorces to just stop already, because it's stuff that affects the kids and we won't stand for their heads being messed with (this one's the toughest issue, by far).
But, that silver lining? It's that neither one of us has to do any of it alone, which I find simply amazing. Miraculous. How two people who were so in love with the concept of being alone, after being hurt so badly, were able to get past that and take the massive risk to Try Again, is absolutely beyond me, and I was there. Being together, getting married, Trying Again, is ginormous proof of how much we love each other. People have said that it's easier to remain alone than to dive back in; but we found that the idea of not being together was so much harder to comprehend than plummeting headlong into whatever our relationship might turn into.
And so here we are. Mucking it out, in the trenches, doing the stuff that comes with life. But at least it's together -- it would be so much harder to go it alone.
(And with all these kids in one house, we have constant free entertainment. Wee Jack just told his oldest brother to "move his big watermelon head," and he meant it in all seriousness. I dare you to try to say "watermelon head" without even cracking a smile.)
