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Posts Tagged ‘step-kids’

Altered photo by Jenny Frech 2011

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

That’s how I feel about my remarriage lately.  Being a step mom is hard.  It is THE most difficult challenge that I have ever faced.  And that includes my year of transition to teaching at a school full of negativity in which teachers were quitting mid-day.  At times it’s even more difficult than my divorce.

Before anyone goes running to Jeremy to tell him that these are sometimes the worst of times, don’t bother, he knows.  He feels the same way.

Trying to blend together two families of preteens and a teenager can be tricky.  All of the kids are in different places of healing after the divorce.  All of the kids have different personalities and coping mechanisms.  They all have conflicting loyalties,  and ways of looking at and moving in the world.  All of us have different expectations of what our lives should look like, and what our time  together in the household will be.

I came into this family with no expectations of forming mother-child bonds.  They have a mother, they don’t need me to fill that role.  I have a daughter, I don’t need them to fill that role.  As a teacher, I work with kids about their age every day.  I love my students without being their mom, and the students love me too, in a respected adult kind of way.

That’s how I envisioned my relationship with my step kids.

It has been so much more difficult.

Over spring break, the first real day in fact, two of the kids told their dad that they hated me.

I fell apart, utterly and completely, wailing-on-the-bathroom-floor-apart.

But deep down I knew it already.

The honeymoon of our new family was over, and the shiny newness of dad’s wife had worn off.  The complaints about my choice of foods had been increasing, as had the ignoring and avoidance of me.

I know I shouldn’t take it personally.

I know it’s not about me.  It’s not about my cooking.  It’s not about the color I painted their rooms.  It’s not that my daughter is here too and gets special treatment.

It’s about what I represent to them.

I could be Mary Poppins, or Nanny McPhee, or the pretty girl their dad marries at the end of the movie.  It doesn’t matter.

It’s about the empty place in their home that I fill with a puzzle piece from an entirely different puzzle.

It’s that mom and dad will never be back together.  It’s that they don’t like that I do things differently from their mom, but if I did them the same, then I would be trying to take her place.

It’s a no win scenario.  I’m the easiest target of their hurt, grief, and confusion. They cannot be mad at mom or dad.

It has nothing to do with me.

They can’t love me right now.  They would be disloyal to mom if they loved me.

It has nothing to do with me.

I’ve stepped back.  Instead I’ve let dad take over the running of the chores.

Jeremy does all of the cooking, most of the running around, and all of the tucking in at night.

I have nothing to do with his kid management, just the management of my own child (which is a biomom stepmom balancing act in itself.)

I’ve stepped back.

But, I am here for the kids.

They can absolutely count on me.

When I realized what they were struggling with, my heart began to break for them.  But I’ve stepped back.  I won’t push.  I won’t tell them what to eat.  I won’t tell them to clean the bathroom.  But I’m here.

I’m not going anywhere.

I’m here because I’m growing, learning, and falling deeper in love with my husband, my best friend, every day.

Our relationship grows through the messiness of our blended family.  Sometimes we are stretched so thin, it feels like we might break.

He listens,  we talk, and we both get grayer and grayer as we face these new challenges.

I’m here because I’ve committed myself to be my husband’s helpmate.  He loves his children deeply, so I am here.

It may be the worst of times.

But I’m not going anywhere because it’s also the best of times.

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Jeremy and I are trying to take a complex, hodge podge of personalities and turn it into a smooth running blended family.  This requires lots of talking and negotiation.

How the heck do we incorporate our six lives into one?

Our kids are on different custody schedules so consistency is almost impossible.

We differ in parenting styles. Jeremy is a free range parent.  I am structured.  But, we both want the kids to be functional adults when they fly the coop.

We understand that to raise self-sufficient adults, the kids need to contribute to the household with chores.  Chores bring a sense of pride to everyone.

The primary chore in our house is dishwashing. With six of us, we dirty up a lot of plates in a hurry. We expect the kids to do dishes after the dinner meal. When our dishwasher was working, that meant two to unload and two to load. Now that our dishwasher doesn’t work, it means all hands on deck.

The first lesson in the Tao of Dishwashing is:

Like it or not, you must surrender to the family unit, because everyone contributes.

When first starting our daily dishes routine there was an abundance of

“Not it!”

Without telling the kids, whoever said “Not it!”, we anointed the chosen one. It took the youngest child less than 24 hours to realize that she was always being chosen.  More importantly, she learned the reason why she was always chosen.

We no longer hear the words, “not it.”

Occasionally, we hear “Not fair! Why doesn’t so-and-so have to (fill-the-blank)”, after all, they are kids.  But it is getting rarer and rarer.

The second lesson in the Tao of Dishwashing is:

Chores don’t have to be a drag when there is spontaneous singing and laughter

The kids learned that singing and dancing while drying and putting away dishes could be a lot of fun. Our kids all have pretty nice voices, except when they are yelling out “The Wheels on the Bus”, but for the most part, we have ourselves a regular Von Trapp family.

The third lesson in the Tao of Dishwashing is:

Broken dishes contribute to the simplicity of our lives.

We have had a lot of casualities this week. For whatever reason, glasses keep breaking. Either the kids have contracted butter fingers, or the glasses have evolved and learned to jump to their death like lemmings.

The fewer possessions we own, the more space we have in our lives for what matters.

The fourth and final lesson in the Tao of Dishwashing is:

Routine, chores, and contribution to community can transform us.

On Saturday, the girls were having a sleepover. After dinner, we excused the girls to go do whatever it is nine and ten-year-olds do at sleepovers.  Jeremy and I did the dishes.

The youngest (remember, the “Not it!” girl) came up to Jeremy and I and said,

“Thanks for doing the dishes for us.”

Everyone at this place is keeping the house running on six cylinders.

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