My first marriage didn’t really stand a chance. Long story short, I met my husband’s kids in the middle of the rehearsal. Flown in from California, out of foster care, in the middle of a terrible legal battle, they showed up in a flurry. I knew I was in trouble.
The week after the honeymoon, I was a mom. At 23, I found myself dealing with a new marriage, an 8 and 10-year-old out of a meth house, and all the legalities and personalities that come with that kind of trauma. See what I mean? Not a chance. We were like a test tube experiment gone wrong; a war-zone with walking wounded.
Nope, my first marriage was doomed….. Continue reading