Back when I was a sassy single gal in my late twenties living in my cool bachelorette pad, I remember my parents telling me to relish my existence. They knew that one day, when I got married and started a family, I would miss that apartment. I would long for the quiet and the orderliness. I would crave the serene, smooth sailing of my even-keeled emotions.
They were right. Back then, even PMS would hardly cause a ripple in my calm because my environment was so entirely harmonious—and it was mine, all mine. My home was perfectly arranged. Just walking in the door made me feel soothed. If there was a mess somewhere in the house, I had made it.
But when my daily life suddenly included three children 50 percent of the time, things changed, to put it mildly. Where would all those dolls and trucks and toys fit in my feng shui map? How could I turn down the volume? My remote didn’t work on the screams, laughs, or bickering. When my stepkids, my husband, and I first moved in together, I felt as if I was in over my head.
There were so many things I didn’t know. For instance, I didn’t know that you don’t give young kids glass cups because they might bite them and break the glass in their mouths. Where would I have learned that? I felt dangerous because I didn’t know what I didn’t know. As in the movie Matrix, I wanted an instant download that would teach me everything I needed to learn to be a wife and stepparent.
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