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Oh What A Web We Weave


My relationship with Ben’s father has improved significantly over the years, which makes my life easier in many ways. No longer do I have to (constantly) bite my tongue while he insults me and my life, and aside from the occasional jab (comment today: “Wow, you still don’t dress to match, do you?”) life has become quite peaceful.

There are some things you just don’t think about when you find yourself unmarried and pregnant. Deep down in there, I think that I always knew that Nat and I would never, ever get married, mainly because he does happen to be a douche bag, but even after the whole “we didn’t get much SLEEPING done, Becky” fiasco, I wanted to give things a chance, if not for me then for my unborn babe. It was a battle royale, for sure, but I gave in and Ben’s last name matched his father’s (but his middle name is my maiden name). So on time marched. I got used to (but always hated) the accidental Mrs. Ben’s Last Name that I would get now and then, but things were all right.

Then school began. Suddenly birthday party invites would arrive at my house bearing Ben’s name with the postmasters scrawl next to it: ‘Here?’ they read. And then I got mad. Stark raving mad. Why is it fair that Ben get HIS last name when *we* were the parents scheduling doctors appointments, dentist appointments, and taking him there? (As an aside, each and every time that Ben has attempted to call Daver “Daddy Dave” Nat has become livid. He wants the glory without the responsibility which infuriates me).

The straw that broke the camel’s back arrived when I informed Nat of when Back to School night is, to which he replied “I’m not going. It was boring last time.” This on the heels of him not showing up to ANY of Ben’s school functions like Open House or Kindergarten Graduation, even after he promised to do so.

Boiling point reached. I called the school and informed them that Ben’s new last name would be a hypenation of His Last Name-My Last Name. As far as the Social Security office would be concerned, nothing had changed, but now, the postmaster will have no more doubts.

Ah, the things I wish I could inform those who get pregnant out of wedlock…see, as a baby none of this matters. It’s only as the years pass that it becomes a “God, I wish I’d not given in.”

And as for me, I am completely aware of the Battle Extrodinaire that will ensue from this, providing Nat ever notices, and for once, I feel perfectly justified.

4 Comments to

“Oh What A Web We Weave”

  1. On September 5th, 2007 at 5:58 pm Chris Says:

    While I totally agree with you in principle (and I do, I really, really do), I do feel sorry for poor Benjamin LongAss Name Already-Dontchaknow.

    How IS my future husband?

  2. On September 5th, 2007 at 6:38 pm becky Says:

    Poor, poor, poor Ben now has 3!!! last names. I feel so bad for him.

    And your future husband is well, loving 1st grade like you wouldn’t believe, soon to be Mrs. Benjamin LongAssNameAlready-Donchaknow.

  3. On September 5th, 2007 at 8:08 pm Chris Says:

    He needs to come down to the city for a visit, I think. There are so many cool, kid-friendly things going down around here right now. Is 6 too young to take a train and drink beer?

  4. On September 5th, 2007 at 10:21 pm becky Says:

    Ben is actually a conservative 55 year old man trapped in his little body, so yes, I would trust him impecably to take the train by himself downtown.

    But no beer ’til he’s 12.

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