New Location!

For those of you who were following me here on my Blog, please head over to my new website, StepmomShawn.com. 

That's where I now blog weekly! Inspirational stories, funny stories, and sometimes heartbreaking stories will be shared. I will also share helpful articles I've read and recommend sites that are encouraging for us stepparents. 

I invite you to join me on my journey and to share your experiences. 

I look forward to hearing from you over on my new website, Stepmomshawn.com.   

You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter. Just look up Shawn Simon, author.  :)  

I can't wait to hear from you! 

Do I Really Matter?

Even though I’m not always sure that my advice is wanted, I still offer it up, especially to the kids. It’s hard to know what the appropriate protocol is for the stepmom. Should I give advice? Do they even want to hear what I think? Is it okay to act like a mom? It’s so hard to know, so I just go with what feels right in the moment, and pray for the best. Recently, Abby was going through a rough time making friends. She had her longtime friend, Ashley, but she hadn’t gotten close to anybody new, and she felt shy about talking to new kids. There were a couple girls in her classes who she wanted to befriend, but she wasn’t sure how to go about it. We talked one night about how to make friends. Conversational skills were hard for her, causing her to resort to silliness a little too often. Being goofy and silly is great in small doses, but it's not appropriate all the time. I told Abby that she could talk to a therapist about this if she wanted, or I could help her if she preferred. She said she’d like to get the help from me. 

We made a plan to go to lunch the following weekend to work on conversational skills. When I brought this up to her the following Friday on our way home from school, she said, “I never said I wanted to do that. I don’t remember that conversation at all. I’m fine, I don’t want any help.” Really? She had completely forgotten our entire conversation? Hmm... I calmly said, “Well, we did talk about that and I still think learning some new skills would be helpful for you.” I told her one thing she could start doing is ask questions. Most people like to talk about themselves. I suggested asking the new girls in her class what they had done over the weekend, or what their plans were for summer, or even what they did the night before. For whatever reason, Abby did not seem open to any advice from me at that moment, so I just shut up after that, and we continued our drive in silence.  

That following evening, we were going to the movies and Abby’s friend, Ashley, was joining us. The three of us piled into the car, and headed over to Ashley’s house to pick her up. When she got into the car, we had the initial pleasantries, talking about the movie we were going to see, where to go for dinner, etc. Then there was silence. When Abby asked, “So Ashley, what did you do today?” I thought I would melt with happiness. I actually felt tears sting my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. That is not something she would ever have asked before our talk. She did hear me; she did take my advice. I guess I do matter after all.   

So Much Insight

When I got home from a long day of work at around 8:30PM, I saw the flashing light on the phone machine. I checked the messages to find one from Abby, letting me know that she needed to arrange a plan to work with two girls from her class at our house the following day. She said, "Dad, call me and I will give you the "deets." Well, it was almost 9:00PM and I'm not Dad, but I called her at her mom's house to get these "deets" she was talking about. No one answered. I left a message, but no one called back. Another message on the machine was from one of the dads of the other girls. So, I called him back. He answered, I apologized for the late hour, but told him this was the first I was hearing about this get together. He wasn't sure what transpired with the other family, but we tentatively scheduled for the girls to come to my house at 4:00PM the next day. 

When my husband got home, he told me that he had four missed calls and messages on his cell phone. Of course, he did. He can't have his cell at work, so it has to stay off. For some unfathomable reason, Abby's stepdad gave the other dads and moms Brian's cell phone number. Apparently, he didn't know that it had to stay off during the work day. Abby said that she and her mom were mad when they found out what he did. Okay, fine, but why at that time didn't they fix the situation and give the families my number? I'm the one who is reachable during the day. I have my cell on 24/7. I get texts, emails, calls all day, every day. Why didn't anyone call me? 

Because no one called me, when I woke the next morning, there was a call from one of the moms saying that since they couldn't reach either me or Brian, they had made other arrangements for their girls, and they were sorry that Abby wasn't included. I was all ready to tell Abby when she got home from school that she would have been able to work with her group if only she had thought to give MY number to these parents, rather than her dad's. Seriously, how long have we been at this for her to not think to call me? I have told both kids this for years. I am the one reachable during the day, not their father! 

By my reaction to this, it soon became obvious to me that what I was really upset about was being left out, again. My feelings were hurt. I wanted to scream, "Notice me! I matter!" I felt unimportant- the lament of the stepmom.

I was fuming about this all morning, alternating between being hurt and being mad. Then, I noticed all these missed calls and messages on my cell from numbers I didn't recognize. It was the moms of the girls in Abby's group. They wanted Abby to be involved and wanted to work out the specifics of where and when they would work. One mom said they would meet at her house, the other said they would work at her house. Both wanted me to call to confirm Abby could be there. 

How annoying this was! I was out shopping and lunching with a friend. Now, I had to call both moms back to work through all of the details of the girls get together. We figured it out, which meant I had to cut my day short so I could get home in time to take Abby over to one of the girl's home, and I had to call my husband to make sure he could pick her up. What an intrusion on my day! 

Apparently, there was no winning for me. I kind of cracked myself up over this one. I started with, "Include me! I matter! I want to be involved!",  then ended up with, "Oh man! What a bother!" Being a "mom" is tricky business for someone who hasn't been doing it from the start. I guess it's a learning curve for everyone involved. 

So Proud!

Every Wednesday afternoon I go to my gym for two hours. I take a Pilates class and a spin class. When my stepson asked me if he could join me, I thought that two hours seemed like a long time for him to spend at a gym. He said it was no problem because he would play basketball and lift weights. Okay, then, he could come with me.


On the drive to the gym, he shared with me that he was afraid to ask the basketball players if he could join them. He's not always honest about his fears, so I was proud of him for being so open and sharing with me. I told him that I know what it's like to be afraid, and that sometimes you have to push past your fear in order to do the things you want to do. I told him that you can't let fear hold you back. I brought up my fear of public speaking, and how I joined Toastmasters to help me work through that. He said that public speaking didn't scare him at all. I told him that everybody's different, but we all have our fears to deal with. He just kept saying how hard this was for him, that the players were kind of intimidating, but that he really wanted to play. I validated his fears and listened, and then told him that I had faith in his abilities to get in there and play. When we were walking up to the gym, I asked, "Would it be helpful for you if I went in there and asked the guys if you could play?" He stared at me with a horrified look on his face, and adamantly said, "No! That would be so embarrassing!" I just smiled at him, and told him I was just kidding. Can you imagine? A 16 year old's mother figure going into the basketball court to ask if her son can play? Of course I would never do that. However, I was worried about him not pushing past his fear, and therefore not playing. He is quite shy in certain situations and has anxiety, so sometimes he doesn't push himself to do things he's afraid of.


All through my Pilates class I wondered if he got to play. That was weighing on me so much, so between classes I stepped out of the exercise room to use the restroom. When I walked past the big window of the basketball court, I was thrilled to see my stepson running by the window to the opposite end of the court in pursuit of the ball. I was beaming! I had never been more proud of him! I immediately went back into the exercise room to get ready for Spin, and shared with my gym friends how pleased I was to see my stepson playing basketball.


That night, when I asked him how it went at the gym. He said it was great. He just went in there and asked, "So, how does this system work?" Perfect. He said he not only got to play, but he also got a lot of ball time and made a basket. What a great experience for him to have. One that will propel him forward to allow him to not let fear hold him back in the future.


Two days later at the gym, I shared again with one of my gym friends how proud I was of my stepson, that he was able to push past his fear and get in there and play. He said, "I know you are. You're such a typical mom." I am, aren't I? I took that as a compliment. :)

The Stepmom as Hero, For Once...

When my stepson came home from school with a new haircut, I felt bad. I didn't like the way it looked, and I said so, in not the nicest way, either. I said, "Oh! You got your haircut! Do you like it?" He said, "No!" Then I said, "Yeah, what did she do? It looks like a bowl cut!" He, of course, responded with, "No it doesn't! That wasn't nice!" He was right, but I couldn't believe that this hairstylist gave a 16 year old boy a cut like that. I told him I was sorry, but that I would want to know if my haircut looked bad. I then told him that if he wanted, I would take him to my hairstylist to fix it. He doubted it could be fixed, but he wanted to try. He asked how quickly I could get him in. I called right away, and got him a Friday afternoon appt. That evening, he admitted to me that he did think it looked like a bowl cut, and that he had told his mom he hated it. He also said that his sister told him it looked like a bowl cut. I told him I appreciated his honesty and his ability to admit his true feelings. I promised him that my hairstylist could fix it up.


On Friday, after his new haircut, he was so grateful. He said that my hairstylist was great and that she was now his new "hair person". He loved the way his hairstyle looked, all spiked up and cool looking. He thanked me profusely. I loved seeing him all happy and confident. This great mood of his lasted until he told his mom that he got his hair re-cut. She was not pleased and told him that he had wasted her money. I suggested that he offer to pay her the $15 dollars she spent on his haircut, that maybe offering to pay her back would diffuse her anger. He didn't want to do that. He was mad at her and couldn't understand why she would be so angry about him fixing what he obviously didn't like. He expected her to be happy that he now liked the way he looked. My guess was that somehow she knew I was the reason for the "fix". She must have figured out that I was the one who fixed the problem that her hairstylist caused. I was the "hero". I know in my head that this shouldn't be a competition, but in my heart, it felt really nice being the "hero" for once.

A Day to Work on My Book

I thought that today would be a perfect day to work on my book, knowing that the kids wouldn't be home from school until 3:30. I got all the "need to do" stuff out of the way, and at around noon I decided to start writing. Suddenly, I hear the front door opening, and in walks my stepson. Oops! I completely forgot that they had finals this week and would be out early. Crap! Trying to find time to write has been so challenging- I have to be in the right mood, I have to have peace and quiet, etc, etc. The list goes on.


Now, I've got this teenage boy home and there goes my peace and quiet. I figured that I might as well take this opportunity to let him know that I had read his paper for English. He's a good writer; all his paper needed was a little editing. However, the night before it was due, he didn't want to take the time to have me look it over for him. I had offered to read it and do some editing, but he said, "no". So I didn't. But today, when I found it "up" on the computer, I couldn't resist and read it anyway. Once I read it, I realized that only a little help had been needed- just a few misspelled words, some grammar stuff. Nothing major.


When he got home today, I told him this good news. Well, I thought it was good news. However, he didn't see it that way at all. Luckily, I know him so I knew that I needed to brace myself for the defensive, explosive behavior to come. And it did. And then I got mad and frustrated, telling him that I didn't understand why he didn't care more about his work. He said he did care, but that grammar wasn't important, it was only 5 points on his grade. I said that could be the difference between an "A" and a "B". He said it wasn't that big of deal, and stormed off. I muttered under my breath, "Why do I even bother, since you don't even care?" Which, of course, he heard, and yelled back at me, "I do care! Don't tell me I don't!". Then he stomped upstairs, slammed his door, and I'm left wondering where I went wrong. I tried to stay calm when I was talking to him, I really did. He blows up so quickly and gets so defensive that it's hard for me to keep my attitude in check.


Now I'm left feeling bad about the whole situation, feeling like a crappy stepmom. When I tell the kids to do something they don't want to do, like make their bed or do the dishes, I'm always bracing myself for the dreaded words, "You're not my mom! You can't tell me what to do!" So far, I haven't heard those words said aloud, but I still wonder if they ever think them.


After this fight with my stepson, I wondered if bio parents ever feel the way I was feeling. I wonder if they worry, like I do, about their kids "liking" them. After an argument I always fear the kids won't like me or love anymore, and I believe that I feel this way because I'm not the "real" parent. Kids will always love the "real" parent, but they might change their mind about the "step" parent, and decide to not love them anymore.


I gave it some time and then headed upstairs to tap on his door to talk. He was gracious; we talked for a moment, and "made up".  All is good now, but I know similar situations will arise again in the future. All I can hope for is that it will get easier with time, and that I will learn to trust in their love for me, as I trust in my love for them.

The Joy of Holidays

       You’d think the holidays would get easier as my years as a stepmom grew, but they didn’t. I had had this gig for six years when this last Christmas was upon us. This year, I was proud of myself because I started my shopping early, and shopping for my kids is no easy task, either. They are the type of kids who, when asked what they want for Christmas, will say, “Nothing.” Or, “I don’t know.” Sometimes I am tempted to get them just that: nothing. But I know that when the morning comes, they absolutely want to, expect to, open gifts. I know how sad and disappointed Jess and Aiden would be if there was nothing there for them to open. So, I wracked my brain trying to think of things they would like or want. I found games that would challenge them, clothes they would wear, and gift cards for places I knew they liked. Their dad, on the other hand, didn’t even think of gifts until Dec. 24th. I’m not kidding! Therefore, the thinking up gifts, the shopping, all falls on me. This year I felt I had done a good job buying fun and useful gifts for the kids, so I was eager for them to get there and open their presents. 

This Christmas, the kids spent Christmas Eve and morning with their mom, and then came to our house around 11AM. When they showed up, we were excited to see them and excited for them to open their gifts. However, when they did, my happiness was deflated. All I heard after each gift was opened was, “Thanks, Dad!” Or “Thanks, Papa!” Or “Thanks, Daddy!” I was not thanked once. Not once. Finally, their dad spoke up, “What, you think I did all this? Really? Why are you only thanking me? Carole did most of the shopping.” (Most?) Sheepishly, both kids hung their heads and quietly thanked me. Even though I appreciated Frank sticking up for me, I was stunned. Suddenly, I felt demoted to just “the stepmom” all over again; the brand new, left out stepmom. In an instant those feelings came rushing back.  There had been times when I no longer felt like “just the stepmom”, times I felt included and connected to the kids, where no label was required. But in that moment, the label came back. I was “the stepmom”, the one who didn’t matter. It was as though I wasn’t even there. I was so hurt. 

Being a stepmom is such a roller-coaster ride. The highs and lows could kill you, if you let them. I am  learning to try and take each moment for what it is: a moment. “They”say that we are supposed to live in the moment anyway, so I know that's a good lesson for me to learn how to do just that- be in the moment. Hopefully, that will help me let go of expectations. There are times when I feel so loved by Jess and Aiden, and other times when I feel like I don't matter. I need to learn to simply appreciate and savor the times when we are close and connected, and then let them go. My hope is that staying in the moment will help take the sting out of the times when they say, “Thank you, Dad” when I'm the one who should be thanked.