I threw up the first time I met Jacob’s ex-wife.

We were taking 15 or so adolescents to the skating rink to celebrate the oldest kiddo’s birthday. As one of the evenings drivers, I was stone cold sober and the skating rink doesn’t sell booze anyway (a real missed opportunity). I settled on a giant 32-ounce cup of Country Time lemonade from the concession stand. Having already enjoyed a piece of birthday cake and desperately wanting to appear unphased by the chaos I found myself in, I joined the fun and embarked on several trepidatious laps around the rink.

Miraculously, I managed not to roll an ankle.

The celebration came to an end, and we piled kids into cars. Jacob drove some kids back to their homes and I was tasked with driving the birthday boy and a couple friends to Jacob’s place where they were going to have a sleepover.

Approaching Sunset Blvd, my anxiety reached a tipping point as Country Time lemonade and birthday cake sloshed around in my stomach. I knew I was about to vomit and that there was no waiting it out. Trying to assess my options, with three kids buckled in my little Fiat, I calmly said “ hey guys, I’m not feeling that well, I need to pull over for just a sec.” #breezy

I rushed and managed to get out just in time before throwing up behind the car, positioning my body in a way that attempted to hide the worst of it, but there was no coming back from this. Thoughts flooded my head. I really wanted these kids to like me, and the last thing I wanted was to embarrass him, especially in front of his friends and especially on his birthday! That night, and the entire day leading up to it, had brought me to a near breaking point. “Sorry about that! Whew, let’s get going.” This was met with silence which was followed with “Ugh… Are you okay, Courtney?” I was most certainly NOT OKAY, but the last thing I wanted was to call any more attention to this. “oh yeah, seriously, I am fine and really, I am so sorry- I think it was just roller skating after too much sugar. Let’s head home.”

That day I had been so fixated on meeting her. Fixated on proving that I was going to be the most perfect partner and worthy caregiver, fixated on it being the best birthday party this kid ever had. Truthfully, I had no idea what to expect, or what I was doing, and I just felt so alone in it. I look back and have no idea why I would think I could have even begun to know what to expect. I had never done this before and neither had the rest of us and kids birthday parties really suck, even under the best circumstances. That was nearly five years ago, and now that same kid, whose birthday we were celebrating, is driving on his own and we laugh when we pass the intersection of Sunset Blvd and Louise Ave, where “Remember when Courtney threw up on my birthday”?

It’s okay to still be learning and figuring it out as we go and sometimes we’re absolutely killing it.

This past Mother’s Day, the kid’s mom and I exchanged Mother’s Day cards for the first time. We both expressed gratitude for what the other brings to the lives of these amazing kiddos and to our own lives as well. It was really lovely and I am proud of us. Blended families are super-special, but they really are their own thing. An unpredictable beast unto itself, requiring heaps of patience with oneself and everyone else involved. Despite that and because of that, I would totally choose us again and again. I needed this to be my family all along, and I now know that they needed me too.