The Bonus Daughter: A Back Story

I do not know how long the Brit and I had been dating before he told me he had a daughter (I Googled him before our first date so it's possible I already knew plus he worked with my aunt and she told him my age so it's likely she also told me all of his secrets), but I do know we had been dating 6 months before Lily found out about me.  We met one Saturday in July (I had just come back from a few weeks in Ecuador) and went to the Zoo.  She was 6 and I was a mix of nervous and completely weirded-out.  Her dad introduced me as "a friend".

We had a fab time (#perpetualchild) and then next day went to the pool at her dad's condo.  It was there that her father asked if she wanted me to join them in Hilton Head.  For 9 days. (When we relive this story I always ask him what he would have done if she had said no, because he had already invited me.  He just says, "of course she was going to say yes.")

So the third time Lily and I ever saw each other, we were bound by a long car ride and a one and one-half bedroom condo on an Island.

Talk about Baptism by fire.  I went from only knowing one niece to living with a 6-year-old.  Honestly, I am not sure where my medal is.  It must have gotten lost in the mail...

I think Lily thought I was her friend so we played seahorse, played mini golf, made sandcastles, and I taught her to swim.

But there were ugly parts too.  Specifically every single day at around 2:00.  She was 6, so she no longer took naps, but something told me (ok, it was Google) that she still needed some afternoon down time.  That was all she needed, a movie and a coloring book around 2, and afternoon tantrums were a thing of the past.

From then on I trusted Google with all things parenting.

It was still a big adjustment.  The Brit and I have very different relationships with our parents (his are over sees, I see mine twice a week... at least).  Also, I do not like it when people touch my stuff.  Especially children.  So the first time I saw Lily stomping around in an 80$ pairs of zebra-print, leather, red-heeled, cork platform Jessica Simpsons, I ran to Google and then CALMLY set some boundaries.  I think they rhymed with "touch my stuff again and I will break your tiny arm", but it has been some years. (Actually she just did that AGAIN last weekend.  Her dad thought it was ADORABLE she had on my Steve Madden cowboy boots.  Until I told him how much I paid for them.  I mean "we" paid for them.)

These are actually a pair of Franco Sartos 

and I did not love them as much

I tell this story because Finn is not the first adjustment of someone else's kid coming into my house and causing me to Google how to be a grownup.  Although he does not parade around in my heels (but if he did, we would still love him), parenting him has required research.  Where Lily had tantrums and was afraid of thunder (and the dark, and storms, and dogs), Finn is quiet and unsure and (I know I overuse it) overwhelmed.

I chronicle this because just like the story of Lily and Hilton Head, soon Finn will be a normal addition and this stories of his early days (and mine) will only be memories.

Lily and I are like peas and carrots now, but I know that proving to a teenager that I know what I am talking about won't be as easy as convincing a 6-year-old.  But there is always Google.