In 2006 when HoneyBunch proposed marriage to me, I suggested we wait on making wedding plans until we met each other’s grown kids. He argued that we didn’t need their permission, but I insisted and he relented.
He adores his sons, and I cannot breathe without mine, so if we were about to create a new family (one that liked and loved and got along with each other), we had to make sure we were all in agreement with our decision.
Seven lives were at stake.
He called his sons and asked them to come down for a visit. One was in college nearby; the other worked in Dallas, but they came to meet me within the week. That get-together went well. They were happy for their father and they liked me and I liked them.
Getting my kids to cooperate was another story.
All three knew I was dating HoneyBunch, but the marriage proposal came as a shocker. They couldn’t believe that someone actually wanted to marry their Mama (and take her away from them).
I lured them to a neutral location - a local restaurant where everyone would be forced to be on their best behavior.
HoneyBunch brought flowers and presents and charmed my daughter, daughter-in-law, and grandson, but my two sons were not so easily bought. They eyed him like a thug in a line up.
The girls giggled. The grandson sat in his lap and looked up at him with big, blue eyes. My sons waited for him to screw up.
He surprised them instead.
He talked to the boys about his love for me and how seriously he believed in marriage. He asked for their blessing because I would not marry him otherwise. They melted like big, soft marshmallows and shook hands.
Seven separate lives were about to become one family.