I’m dating a man with four kids. I haven’t met them yet, but I’m already settled into the week-on, week-off routine. I’m here when the kids are not. Then I gather my little dog, say goodbye to the cats, and slip back into my quieter life, ten minutes away.

I don’t have kids. I don’t want any of my own. I’m no stranger to family dynamics—I just never imagined myself orbiting one like this.

I like taking care of people. I also need to lie down afterward. I’m tired.

I’m not the mom. I’m not trying to be. But I am in love. And I’m paying attention.

If I had to describe my role right now, it’s this: I’m the house cat of the family dynamic. I roam freely, observe closely, and participate when I feel safe enough to care out loud.

He wants to introduce me to them soon. He’s thoughtful about the timing, and I’m grateful for the space to ease into all of this—quietly, curiously, and with one ear always perked.

And if you’re wondering whether I’m emotionally equipped for this—just know I often think of that scene in The Parent Trap when Natasha Richardson (she was so lovely, RIP) says, “I’m not mature enough for this.” Same.

So I’ve decided to document my journey here, in real time—before I know how the story turns out.