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.