So, it begins...

It has taken me a while to decide on whether to start this blog or not. From what I've seen on-line, parents (but let's not begin by kidding ourselves - it's mostly mothers. But - again - I adhere to a purely feminist take on that, so don't worry) can be awful towards one another on-line when it comes to child rearing. The standards we expect ourselves and others to live up to, and the constant badgering criticism of other parents, is off the charts. And I can't even call myself a parent yet.


2019-08-10

      As I'm writing this I have a glass of red wine next to me - also, I have a long list of inventory of two homes about to become one. One of them mine; a small house full of old and worn furniture, nick-knacks from all over the world and, let's face it, 12 years worth of crap. The other one; the somewhat makeshiftly decorated apartment of my fiancee and his two kids, since two years.

I never wanted children of my own, I was happily kid-free by choice for 40 years. I never even really expected to get married, and my idea of a family was a couple of furry babies and possibly a boyfriend. Then along came this divorced father of two, a teacher and environmentalist, a rare gentle one in this stupid and violent world. (Henceforth he will be called the Gentle Giant.) And everything I knew was put on its head.

Cards on the table: It would never have worked if his kids were terrible, how ever deeply in love he and I fell with each other. You know what I mean - terrible kids does not equate terrible adults, but some kids are horrible little monsters. And if I was to consider the whole package - actually becoming one of their (bonus) parents - I knew all of us had to fall in love with each other.

Luckiest of the lucky - we did.

So here we are, 18 months later, about to become a family. We aren't getting married just yet, but as with most divorced families in Sweden, custody is split 50/50. This means that every other week I will be acting mom, sharing nearly every aspect of my life with an 8-year-old girl and a 10-year-old boy. Part of me is calm, part of me is excited - and one part is totally freaking out. What if I'm really bad at this parenting thing? What if I don't have enough patience? What about.. puberty?! "You are NOT MY MOM!"

I love these kids, and I love their father. But as any adult will know, sometimes love turns out not to be enough. Statistics say that 50% of all (first) marriages fail, and his did, long before their 12 years together came to an end. But here's the kicker: Do you know the probability of failure of SECOND marriages? 67%. (Third marriages: 74%. After that we just go into free fall.) Basically, we have 1/3 of a chance of making it.

Yes, we have age on our side. People who get married after 35 are more likely to stay together. I was a wild child. I changed college courses, jobs, boyfriends, cities - even countries - at a rapid pace for some years. All the while my Gentle Giant stayed near his hometown, searching for a steady life, for family, for security. He did not have the safe and loving upbringing I had, and he never felt the need to wander like I did. At 40 though, our current paths and desires look very much the same. And I am in love with him, something I thought maybe I wouldn't get to experience again.



Thank you for listening to my ramblings, my fears. I know not many people take the time to read blogs anymore, but sometimes what one has to say simply can't fit into an Instagram post. This chapter in my life is only just beginning. I will be back.