Yesterday was a very special day, but this story starts quite a few years back.
The year was 1989 and my mom was a 40 something divorcee in a little town in NH, with two kids. She had started dating a year or two before and I was as glad for her to be starting fresh as an indifferent tween can be. You see, I was suffering from a severe mental disorder commonly called, puberty, and my brother, well, he always had a knack for making a scene, and he felt there was nothing quite so entertaining as horrifying my mom and her suitors for sport.
So, occasionally, a nice man would offer to treat the whole family to dinner and get to know the kids, and, well, if my mother ever writes her memoirs, you'll be able to laugh at the results.
But in 1989, my mom met Ben. He was an affable and gentle guy who shared the whole family's twisted sense of humor. Over the next few years, we saw him more and more and it was clear that he and my mom were growing closer, despite her demon-like offspring. Finally, one day, they gave me the news.
"Marnie, we're getting married."
I'd been living with this woman for the past 16 or so years and I was wondering if this guy was loco. "Don't you guys want to try living together a little first?" I asked.
But they were resolute. "We love each other and living together isn't going to tells us anything we don't already know.
I thought they were insane. I left them with a shrug and some parting words, "Well, if you get yourself knocked up, don't come running to me for free childcare."
My mom and Ben married in 1992, in a lovely little ceremony in Maine.
In the years since, Ben has seen some of the hardest times our family has been through and brought us countless laughs. He has embraced our insanity and added a dash of his own to the mix.
I'm sure there have been times when Ben has wondered what he got himself into. Heaven knows, I still think he's crazy.
But after nearly 20 years with our ragtag family, Ben has made official what has felt true for so many years. Ben is now, officially, technically, legally and biologically (wait, not that last one) my father.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy-o!
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