First of all, congratulations to the ex and his wife on the birth of their new baby. No, really. I mean it.
When I picked up the boys today, they came screaming out the door to tell me the news. And then promptly got in a fight, because apparently Boy 2 had won Rock, Paper, Scissors and therefore the privilege of telling me. And then Boy 1 just talked faster. And for the moment, that was a bigger deal than the new brother.
Anywhoo… I knew this moment was coming. My children getting a new sibling. I thought maybe I would need a bottle of wine, some contemplation or, I don’t know, something. But the reaction I had was more like if my mother had told me some second cousin from Nebraska whom I had only met once as a child had given birth. So, it was more like, “huh” and then, as an afterthought, what did the kid weigh?
I know, I know. This is an important event in my boys’ lives. I’m sure stuff will change for them. At their other house. I do care about that and I’m glad that they are excited and welcoming of their new brother (even if he is named after a rock, heh). I just can’t seem to get that emotional about it otherwise.
I think I’ll still have that glass of wine though.