Handsome is nice but bravery was required

I married my college sweetheart...almost 20 years after college. Michael Darling was a mere 41 years old while I was 38 and in mom years that made me about 275 years old. He was a confirmed bachelor and I was a single mother of four lovely, very verbal children. The children definitely had opinions about my being remarried.
Them---"He's not my dad!"
Me---"I know he's not. He knows he's not. We get it."
Them---"He can't tell me what to do!"
Me---"Yes he can. He's an adult. He's my husband. You will respect him!"
Them---"I never liked him."
Me---"Super. I'll put that memo on the fridge for his birthday."
Almost 8 years ago Michael Darling and I gazed into each others eyes and hand in hand dove off the marital cliff. This very brave man went from having no wife, no kids and no pets in a neat as a pin house to total chaos. I had 4 children, 1 dog, 2 cats, a rabbit, and an occasional parakeet. I say occasional parakeet because parakeets for us lasted about as long as a bag of apples. Parakeets and house plants continue to be my downfall. I personally would have stopped at one, but my son wouldn't give up. I have to hand it to him, he's no quitter.
From the moment Michael Darling and I started dating people looked at him with a mix of pity and admiration. He had never tried to don the super man cape, so he took it all in stride. He has loved my kids as his own now for years. But it was as rocky a beginning as we had expected. At first we all walked around each other politely, then came the resentment, and then came acceptance. Think Kubler-Ross's stages in death and dying only instead of an ending, this was just the beginning.
Michael Darling ( I call him that after a Disney movie with the Darling family) has taught the kids about mechanicals and machinery, everything from lawn mowers, weed whackers to maintaining cars. He manages approximately seven bank accounts and is the paper guy. He diligently keeps track of insurance, bills, college stuff, FAFSA forms and on and on. On a good day his daily paper work can be cleaned up in an hour. On a bad day I find him buried in torn envelopes and form letters sitting on the floor with files up to his chest.
One would never guess from just looking at our family that he is not the kids biological father. He has done every fatherly duty and beyond in the years we have been a family. He has taken trips to doctors offices, taken the hit in the Principal's office, and has sat at their bedside when they were ill. He is the one who sits quietly waiting in the background at their father's grave while we mourn. Our kids don't call him Dad. He has never asked them to, ever mindful and respectful of the love they maintain for their father.
Michael Darling has redefined the term "Step-father" for our kids.
He steps up for them when they need defending.
He steps over insane amounts of stuff they drag into our already crowded house.
He steps into their future guiding them through high school graduation, college orientation, and moving out.
He quietly tiptoes around them when they need to mourn the loss of their father who isn't here to see all they have accomplished.
Don't get me wrong with all this gushing, the life we lead is real and therefore very messy.
Michael steps into dog poop no one has bothered to pick up.
He has tripped over shoes and words from verbal vomiting.
He has misstepped as a parent saying and doing the wrong thing.
He has retraced his steps for lost car keys, misplaced paper work , and apologies.
Michael and I celebrated our last anniversary on lock down at the house due to kid's summer school, summer jobs, gas prices, and limited funds. That balmy night in June Michael stepped into the pool and handed me a glass of champagne. "Any regrets?" I asked hopeful of a positive response.
"Nope" answered my man of few words. We clinked our glasses together saying, "To us". We sat in the pool sipping champagne, feeding each other strawberries, while gazing at the stars. In the background the dogs ran the length of the back fence barking non-stop, stereo wars blared through the windows of the house as teenagers trailed in and out all night long slamming doors on every arrival and exit.
I am grateful every day that my very brave Michael Darling stepped up to the plate and got in the game.