I’ve participated in IEP and 504 meetings hundreds of times, but never until today had I been on the other side of a parent-teacher conference.  It was rather spontaneous for him to bring me along, but I’m ultimately the right person to help advocate for academic accommodations for a pre-teen daughter, a request that had been previously denied. 

I’ve not had to explain who he is to me yet.  Five dates in five days.  Three with his daughter, who I’ll affectionately call Shy Little Frog, the song she asked me to learn to play on the ukulele so she could sing with me on our next date. 

September 1^st was the last day of my Bumble membership.  It was also the morning I met him.  It was just coffee, light and casual.  Then we decided to spend the afternoon at Fort Monroe beach.  I liked how he fit in my world.  I played a couple songs on my ukulele, but I found I didn’t really need my security blanket with him. 

And since then, I’ve been living inside of a Hallmark Movie, only each time I think I’ve found a potential antagonist, the stars align. I’ll give up some gems in my blog, but my current adventures have been so uncanny that I’ve decided to write a novel based on a true story. Conflict drives a story, so while those must come, they haven’t yet.  I don’t know what the future holds for us or my book. 

It’s too soon for all the thoughts pouring through my mind, and yet, given the dismal dating ventures I’ve shared up until now, it seems unfair to keep this close to the vest, play it safe, or wait for things to mature.  The truth is, I want my readers to share in my joy for a change… before he disappoints me or I mess it all up.

Let’s face it, my thirties was a string of long relationships and droughts that left me jaded, a word I explained to Shy Little Frog yesterday at Virginia Beach.  I packed a cooler full of healthy snacks and my chicken salad.  My roommate slipped in homemade cinnamon chocolate chip cookies.  I was thinking, “I’ve been waiting all my life to do just this.”

And that’s the sentence I’ve continued to repeat since I met him.  On Independence Day, in my blog, I asked if I should stop waiting for fireworks that might never come again, if I could be enough without that spark.  The chemistry with him is a blue-hot flame, and I’m praying I won’t have to be without it again.

I might reply to his text messages with, “Me too!” or, “Can’t wait!” but what I’m really thinking is that I’ve met my soul mate and I know him by the absence of him before he walked into that Starbucks.  I promise my readers authenticity, so while I attempt to play hard to get with him, I’m sure you’ll agree that I’ve turned into a teenage girl myself, completely infatuated. 

With both of them.

They come as a pair, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Shy Little Frog and I had a few heart to hearts yesterday.  One was out on the wake boards as she attempted to help me overcome my fear of the waves that crash so mercilessly on Virginia Beach, a reason I prefer my bay on this side of the bridge.  It had been thirty years since I’d put my head under the water in the ocean on purpose, thirty years since I’d nearly drown in Atlantic City. 

She grabbed my hand and pulled me through.  I told her I had a crush on her father.  She knew.  I asked if it was okay.  It was.  I told her I could Uber home if she wasn’t. 

“I already approve,” she said, and before diving under another wave, “You check all my boxes.”

I thought I’d have to win the girl over, but she’s craving the love I’ve been dishing out in spades to other people’s kids for decades, just waiting for this day that never would come.  She’s smart, sassy, spirited.  She’s creative and innovative.  She hates math and loves rainbows and drawing.  I think she’s experimenting with being contrary, claiming to be an introvert but then winning over friends instantly on the beach. 

He bought us all new sunglasses, mine having been eaten by the ocean within the first five minutes.  Handing over his credit card, he sent us on a girl’s trip for shades and water.  She naturally reached for my hand when we crossed the street.  While we picked out different sunglasses to try on each other, I noticed how we looked like mother and daughter in the little mirror. 

We bought ice cream on the way back; it melted more quickly than I could eat it in the Labor Day heat.  I took pictures of the two of them playing in the water, my heart full of hope.  I took turns getting them lunch.  We sang her song on the ukulele.  I found myself keeping an eye on Shy Little Frog when she was in the water without us. 

“You’re a good mom,” he said. 

I started to object that I wasn’t a mom yet, but he halted me.  In his opinion, it was in my genes.  I was glad for those new shades so he couldn’t see the joyful tears pricking my eyes. 

In the evening, we walked Atlantic Avenue, the three of us, hand in hand.  Shy Little Frog opted to go solo on the Ferris Wheel, leaving her dad and I some time to talk.  He says what I’m thinking, often when I’m thinking it… which makes it sometimes easier to play hard to get.  Again, a simple, “Yeah, I get that,” is less terrifying than asking how soon is too soon to get married and stop taking my birth control pills. 

It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing.  I feel more alive, more me, in his presence.  And that’s only amplified when Shy Little Frog is in the mix.  It would be impossible not to get attached to both of them. At the top of the ride, I told him I was ready to face the next potential obstacle: baby mama. He already knew what I was thinking, as usual. 

Shy Little Frog was the one to introduce me to her mother.  We had a nice talk.  She thought that I was really pretty. The three of us talked for a while, and then her dad joined us. I looked and watched, but there was no spark between her parents. Baby mama wouldn’t give an antagonist or drama for my novel either, it seemed.    

My supervisor was sick today, so I didn’t have to go into work.  That freed me up to attend the meeting at school with him.  I listened in silence for the bulk of the meeting, jotting down notes for later.  I knew the roles of everyone at the table with us, but I imagined how intimidating it was for the typical parent. 

I’d jotted down my mental ADHD checklist beforehand.  I’ve filled out enough evaluations to know what to look for.  Shy Little Frog is pretty much textbook, and opting against medication means she’s going to need tools and strategies at school and at home.  The meeting today just made me wish I’d been in her life already.  One teacher bucked about her needing to take more responsibility for herself and the social worker pointed at her abundant absences and tardies last year, but the data was so obvious.

She fails math and has been failing it for years.  Last year, she had math first block every day. If I felt hopelessly lost and behind and was responsible for getting myself on the bus every morning, I’d stay home sick, too!  I’ve only known the girl a week, but I didn’t need to review her school and medical records to confirm what she needs. I spoke only when it was necessary, and she wasn’t denied this time.

When she came home from school, I was at their house. Her dad instructed her to get out her Chromebook.  I asked if she had an agenda.  We sat in the family room and reviewed the four classes she had today, checked the posts in Canva, and updated her agenda to reflect what she had in progress or due tomorrow.  Her job will be to write down assignments in her agenda tomorrow, and we’ll repeat the same thing we did today. 

It wasn’t even dinnertime yet, and just like that, Shy Little Frog had schoolwork behind her and was outside playing basketball with my dog, Tito.  Her uncle brought home Chick-fil-A, and we ate together before I snuck outside to write my blog.

There’s something cosmic about this man.  I feel them inside the house behind me as I rock and type on their front porch, and I could see myself walking into this life permanently.  Of course, logic says it’s too soon for all of this, and I could be writing next week about how it all fell apart already, but I never thought I’d feel this way again and need to write it down in case I just end up with the memory of it. 

I’m wondering if he will be the last “he” for me.  We deleted our dating apps today.  And though I didn’t know how to explain what we are, he quite naturally introduced me to Shy Little Frog’s school administration as his girlfriend.  I don’t take it lightly that my name is on that meeting attendant list.  I commit to be an advocate for that little girl as long as she’s in my life.

In fact, she’s poking her head out now, since it’s been two hours already.  It’s time for me to go help that little frog design her birthday party invitation.  Perhaps there are other things to do on Tuesday nights.