As I have mentioned previously, Sophia is going off to college in Portland, OR this fall and her dad, my ex, Jared, is planning to drive her and Eva up the coast on a road trip. (I will fly up separately.) He’s talking about renting a car one-way and possibly taking the train home. It should be a wonderful end of the summer trip and a great send off for Sophia. Both girls are lobblying their dad to take Cheryl too. As Sophia opined to me, “Cheryl really, really wants to come.”

After Sophia’s birthday party dinner Jared, Sophia, Eva and I were alone and talked about the planned trip. Both Sophia and Eva piped in, “Dad, can we pleeease bring Cheryl with us???”  I assured both girls that we would fine a way to make sure that Cheryl would be able to join them. The next day when I spoke to Jared on the phone he said he would be happy to include Cheryl in his plans. What a great dad!!! What a great guy!!! And what great sisters three girls are!!! The trip is going to be so much fun and something great to look forward to all summer.

We had a similar situation in our house a while ago where Paul had to correct the kids from using that expression. He pointed out that this is a particularly sensitive subject since my girls’ father is gay. I don’t think people really get it until they have had a personal relationship with someone who is homosexual. And in an anti-gay society where many gay people are still closed, it’s a wonder how many people we actually know who are gay.

It was a fun filled, busy and joyful occasion filled with lots of activities during the day with  surfing, sailing and  kayaking, and in the evenings at each other’s homes playing charades, board games and reminiscing over old photos of Pop Pop in the army and on his wedding day. Those were the moments when I looked at my girls blending in with their “step” aunts, uncles and cousins, enjoying themselves and feeling included, even though they don’t share the same heritage, history or genealogy. After Sophia and Eva left for the wedding in New Jersey, where I heard reports that they ripped up the dance floor with their East coast cousins, we had one final big party at our house on the last day of the reunion.

I had planned a menu of grilled chicken kabobs, homemade potato salad and coleslaw. It was  a pot luck and everyone brought their contribution. Paul’s older brother decided he wanted the family to take a trip down memory lane and asked his wife to prepare “bun burgers,” a dish their mother made for them as children. It stirred some fond and not so fond memories. (Apparently not everyone liked the bun burgers.) I didn’t quite get the recipe, but I watched them being prepared. Basically, you prepare ground beef like you are making hamburgers. Throw in some spices and some chopped onions, but instead of adding bread crumbs, pick out the bread from the tops of hamburger buns, which leaves a big O, tear it into pieces and add to the mix. The top of the bun is placed on the bottom half of the bun and then on a cookie sheet. Next, scoop up a  generous dollop of hamburger meat and place inside the opening of the top bun. Bake in the oven at 400 degrees and just before they are done, top with strips, in an X shape, of Kraft processed American cheese. Place back in oven until melted.

I have to say they were pretty darn good and could easily be adapted to something healthy and rather gourmet if using, say, ground turkey, whole wheat buns and  perhaps some goat cheese, instead of the fatty beef and fake cheese. The culinary nostalgia didn’t end there. No. There were fish sticks too! You know, the frozen kind that comes in a box with lots of fillers and mystery ingredients. They were a  once-a-week staple in Paul’s family’s house. Paul’s brother felt that no family reunion was complete without fish sticks and bun burgers. As we were standing around the kitchen, noshing on the retro delicacies, he lamented, “Too bad we don’t have fake milk to go with them.” Anyone who grew up in a large, budget stretching family in the 50′s and 60′s would know what fake milk is. I do. My mom used to take powdered milk, mix it with water and add it to the real milk to make it last a little longer. It was gross, but we accepted it because that’s just the way it was.

As Paul’s family reminisced about their childhood memories, I reflected on my own (I’m one of five kids.) and realized that big families are pretty much the same.  It isn’t just the food, the family vacations, the sibling squabbles and competition for the bathroom that they have in common, but rather the inherent bonds, life lessons and experiences that go with the territory. I’ve always said being part of a big family prepares you for life’s greatest challenges: To be able to get along with anyone, to know how to wait your turn, to accept delayed gratification and to tolerate things that can at times be somewhat unpleasant.

My thoughts wandered to the future as I pictured myself at Sophia’s or Eva’s wedding and imagined all the guests who would attend.  There would be my family, Jared’s family and  Paul’s. It would be  a blended family wedding… and one hell of a party.

That was then. This is now, and Paul is sooooo much different. When I’m sick, not only does he act and look concerned, he actually takes care of me.  He cooks dinner. He makes me tea and he will go to the store and buy me soup if I asked him to. What a guy. What a difference. I shouldn’t bash my ex because he was going through his own sexual identity turmoil, but I didn’t know that a the time.

I feel much better today not only because I am tanked up on Sudafed and Tylenol, but because my hubby is in town and I have the comfort of knowing that  when he gets home tonight he will make dinner, clean up the kitchen  and bring me tea.

I really lucked out in the in-law department. They always treated me like a daughter and when Jared and I divorced, my mother-in-law told me, “You’re still one  of us. ” I miss my mother-in-law terribly. She died 10 months after my mother died and I was totally unprepared. She was only 72 and her death was unexpected. I wondered how I would feel walking into her house with her not there. I did not go to her funeral because she died in September just when the kids were starting school, and because of that I never felt like I had closure.

We took the train from Penn Station to Dunellen and Grandpa Tony and Jared’s brother Ken met us at the station. It was a nice surprise to see Ken. He had been waiting for us to arrive. When we got back to the house, Jared’s sister Margie called to say she would be right over. Jared has one sister and four brothers, but only Ken and Margie live nearby. They both stayed late into the evening and we talked for hours. They were very interested in my new life and seemed happy for me. I think they were in some way reassured that Jared and I still have a positive co-parenting relationship. Margie did something very special. She gave each of my girls a pair of my mother-in-law’s earrings. I made a vow to myself to stay in better contact with them in the future. I think they would enjoy receiving photos and letters from the girls.

The next day I took the kids to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. It was very weird seeing the New York City skyline without the Twin Towers.  We also went to the Liberty Science Center which was a lot of fun. Later in the evening Sophia and I poured through family photo albums. I was very surprised to see that in one of them my father-in-law saved a Christmas card I had sent him the first year Paul and I were married. It was a collage of photos from our wedding. He saved it. I was very touched. Jared and mine’s wedding photo is off the wall, but my wedding photos with Paul were relegated to a book.

I also looked through my mother-in-law’s recipe boxes. I was looking for her famous Spanish crepe recipe which I did not find. I pulled out all of her other specialties and with Tony’s permission, I kept them. They were in her handwriting and that was my way of preserving a part of her.

It is interesting to see how my ex-husband has become my step children’s sort of uncle. He often has  all five kids  at his house, makes them nachos while they watch TV or has Cheryl stay for a sleep over. He takes Cheryl and Eva out to lunch and to the movies.  He’s very kind that way and extremely thoughtful. I know that he turned out to be gay and we got divorced because of it, but I have never regretted marrying him. I have always felt that by doing so, I had married well. (Given the information I had at the time, that is.) Jared’s a good guy, who not only loves his own children, but cares about all children. Our story is one example of how divorce and subsequent remarriage can lead to positive changes that expand children’s lives and expose them to  new and wonderful experiences. Sometimes we make things up as we go, but I feel that we are staying on the right path.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads and step dads out there.