This is my most personal article to date. I tend to not divulge life stories to the world but some stories just need to be told. My wife and I are best friends. I know that this post may cause problems between us because I didn’t confer with her before publishing this article and we have a pact as business partners and as spouses to always approve articles jointly. This story is about her and her mother. She may take exception to me talking about HER family to the public. I hope that this risk is worth it. But?
Here we go and wish me luck!
I write and speak often about my wife and even more so about my daughters. Mostly the youngest two because they live with me. My oldest daughter has gotten married and has started a family of her own. I am so very proud of her! I was a wild bachelor prior to 1993. This beautiful child was born in 1993 and that was when, for the first time in my life, I finally discovered something more important than myself.
Her mother was someone that I simply couldn’t live with. No bad mouthing. We just couldn’t coexist. She has been an excellent mother to my first born but there was no “Happily ever after” to be had with us. It happens.
This story may seem like it is about my child.
Sorry. It is again about my wife.
My wife’s mother, Vernette…without exaggeration, was simply the sweetest person that I have ever met. Everyone loved her and she loved everyone. And if there was someone that she DIDN’T love? That person would never know it. Straight class act. When my mother in law married my father in law, he already had four children from his previous marriage. Vernette took them in and loved them without reservation. Vernette loved them and they loved Vernette. There was no “petty” in that woman regarding these new kids in her life. I have spent time with these 4 and never have I not seen love in their faces when remembering and speaking of Vern. She went on to have two children of her own. Both my wife and her brother that Vern gave birth to have NEVER referred to their dad’s kids as “half brothers or sister”. They are just their brothers and sisters. Simple as that.
Vern did that.
So my wife met my first child while she was still wearing footie pajamas. My child’s mother had overt discomfort with my new flame and let’s just say that seeing my first born was “awkward” for a while. But my wife loved MY baby. Not in a “Let me endear myself to this guy that I have fallen in love with by playing with his daughter kind of way”. But in a “She actually LOVED my child kind of way!” She loves MY child!!!!
Which made me love her more. And? It didn’t take long for me to see that she got this genetic wonderfulness from her mother.
I don’t write about my problems. My problems are my business. I handle them without the need to advertise them. I don’t write about having a cold. I will not write about it if I was ever hospitalized. I don’t need this website to make you sad for me. That just is not what I write for. However, what I DO advertise is my happiness. I truly always strive for the motto of Urban Upscale….”The Good Life”. But my life is far from perfect. What gets me closer to “perfect”, however, is my family. Every single member of it.
So I have three daughters. My wife and I have two. I write about my two youngest girls the most because they are the ones that still live under my roof. They are the ones that produce the daily laughs as well as the daily headaches and make for the most frequent copy. You will find that you will read quite a bit about them in the coming articles. You will also read about the two granddaughters that my first born has produced because, let’s face it, they are the most beautiful one and three year old girls that I have seen since the births of my own daughters. So let’s do the math. I have three daughters and two granddaughters. Two daughters produced from my marriage and my first born from my ex. But what you really should know from this story is….
All roads lead back to the apple with the ring.
“What the hell is he talking about now? Apple? What apple???”
Yeah. This has been a story of apples and trees. The best apples fall from the best trees.
My late mother in law, Vern, was one of the best trees EVER! Her apples are also the best!
Cute apples too! (My brother in law is a great apple but “cute” would be a gross exaggeration.)
Vern and I got pretty close before she passed. I miss her. A lot. I loved her and I am proud beyond measure that she loved me. Vern’s very clever password for all of her accounts was “Verishki”. “Ve” for Vern….”Ri” for the first two letters of her son’s name….”Sh” for the first two letters of my wife’s name and “Ki” for the first two letters of MY name! She took ME into her circle and if you were in her “circle”? Well that was a grand circle to be in! I sat her down and promised her after I proposed to her daughter that I will always love her child. Well here is more of me doing exactly that. Keeping my promise to a woman that deserved people in her life that kept their promises to her.
What she didn’t know was how easy she made it for me.
This apple that I live with is delicious. Best apple that I’ve ever had. But look! My wife is now a tree herself having apples of her own. And she loves HER apples.
All FIVE of them! Three of which didn’t even grow from her tree. They grew from mine. But? She is Vern’s daughter and she is my wife. She is so very much my wife.
What a special woman Vernette was.
And so is Da Missus.
Cursing is not professional. It certainly has no place on this, hopefully, very classy and polished website. It shows a lack of intelligence sometimes. Some say that it displays one’s limited vocabulary. Sometimes it is an effective way to convey anger. But sometimes? Cursing is just a way to drive home a point. Cursing is so very warranted here. Not because I have a lack of intelligence and not because I am angry. But because…..
How f***ing lucky am I?
And I f***ing know it.
Women like my wife don’t grow on trees.
Yeah they do.
Ready to live the good life with your family? Get timely content delivered to your inbox! Sign up with only an email address.
By submitting this form, you are consenting to receive marketing emails from: . You can revoke your consent to receive emails at any time by using the SafeUnsubscribe® link, found at the bottom of every email. Emails are serviced by Constant Contact