So much change has happened in the last couple of months. Change I have been quiet about.
Yesterday was a day like any other in our home. Work, errands, grabbing dinner out because life happens. As we sat at the table eating Chipotle, Cooper asked, “When was the last time we went to Great Wolf Lodge?” To which I replied, “A few years ago before the New Found Glory Concert with The Ataris..” to which my loving husband questioned my ability to remember exactly what bands were really playing. As if.. my response was, “I specifically chose that concert because Madison was super into the Ataris at the time, it was a week they were with us and last minute they decided to go camping with their mom instead and I had to sell those tickets.” Sean replied, “that’s right!” And Madison said, “I felt bad about that!” To which I replied, “but not bad enough to go..” .. she gave me a Madison look, smiled and said, “you just don’t understand..”
This conversation has come up often. The one where “I don’t understand..” First and many times with her sister and now with her. The “you don’t understand what it’s like to have to live between two homes, to have to choose between parents on their “non” week. The lack of understanding when one home doesn’t measure up to the other..” But how wrong they are, how I do understand and why their father and I have always said, “Be where you’re happy..” despite our own feelings in the matter.
I was 25 when Sean and I got married. I had an 18 month old son and was really trying to figure out who I was after a failed marriage. I was “casually” dating and discovering for the first time, who I wanted to be as an “adult” (to be fair, I still don’t know what an adult is..) When we met, it was a whirlwind. We were immediately inseparable and I instantly fell in love with his two girls. Aubrey with her newly grown in big front teeth and glasses, she was so fucking sweet and instantly stuck to my side. We did arts and crafts and talked about school. She was 7. Madison with her big eyes and beautiful loose curly hair was 4, almost 5 and she just wanted to be everywhere her sister was. I can still remember her tiny voice asking me to help her peel stickers for the project we were working on the first time I officially met them. Little did I know how these two would fill up so much positive space in my heart.
In the last few months I have had to reflect long and hard about this “step mom” gig. You see, some of you know and some of you don’t the struggles of being a step parent. Of stepping in to love a child that isn’t biologically yours. To love a child that innately rejects you because of what you represent. A child(ren) who also can’t fully love you back because of what the “other side” says about you or because they feel like you’ve taken their dad away. In eleven years I have faced all of this and more. Ive tried to do it with grace and with a level head. Sometimes I’ve done it so well that even I am impressed with myself and others, I’m human and my feelings get the best of me but I can honestly say that I’ve often and routinely forced my feelings down and tried to “understand” theirs.
I can remember a time when we lived in Victorville, after throwing Aubrey a birthday party and having a great day, finding her on her bed crying. At this point we had already gotten married and had Cooper, not that the time reference is that substantial since that happened within the first 33 minutes of us being together but I say that to reference, I had at least been around a bit. I crawled into her bed next to her and asked, “What’s wrong babe?” .. she looked at me and said, “I just wish my mom and dad were still married.” I can still remember exactly how that felt. I tried to reassure her that though I could understand that feeling that she had so many new people to love her. Her step dad, his family, her new brothers, my family and of course, myself. What I didn’t say but how I felt was that, “I’m trying so hard. I’m trying to balance love between my new kids and my biological kids and this is just as hard for me as it is you. I am trying so hard to be an asset to your life and not over step some invisible line that pisses anyone off. I am trying..”
I tell this brief story amid a myriad of them because it is all encompassing of being a step parent. Good, bad, indifferent.. no amount of trying ever feels like enough. Imagine being offered the job of an astronaut, only having the education of a telecommunications operator but being expected to conquer both. It’s a constant feeling of everyone expecting you to know exactly what to do when you really have no fucking idea and lets be real, I’m not even that good at being a REAL mom, let alone a step one but not for lack of trying.
For years I have been accused of loving my own children more. Of loving one child more than the rest, of never being enough for all. Now, as a parent we already feel like were not enough.. but to actually have it said to you routinely and sometimes for the smallest injustice is just, damn. I’ve really sat in this accusation lately and I can tell you, I don’t love my biological kids more than my step.. but maybe it appears to my children that way. I can assure you that its easier to love the boys but not because I love them more, its because they live with me full time and I’m not constantly competing for their attention. I am not having to “reset” for rules in our home over another. I am not having to constantly “prove” my love for them because of some innate insecurity and vice versa. My boys just love me. They love me for my faults and my failures and my attempts. They don’t hold me to the standard of another or compare me to someone else. So though not greater or lesser, its just easier and I think that often gets mistaken for a greater love.
I have made sure to include myself in the day to day but also, in the priorities that shouldn’t have been mine to begin with. Doctors appointments, dentist appointments, eye doctors and emergencies in between. I have chaperoned nearly every field trip, I have been present for every parent teacher conference, award ceremonies and when asked I volunteered in their classrooms on my only day off in the work week. I showed up to volleyball games even on our “off weeks” because being a parent doesn’t stop every other week. I rearranged my entire work schedule to accommodate practice drop offs, pick ups and everything in between. I have been asked to move my work day, my obligations and sacrifice for their happiness. For eleven years I have done this without fail for ALL of my kids. I don’t say these things to toot my own horn but man, as a “step mom” .. Ive done far more than was ever necessary and I did it with love in my heart and the appreciation of having the ability to do so. Even on the hard days, I was still appreciative.
Recently I have been purposely excluded from major life events, I have been accused of doing things I didn’t do and oddly enough, sometimes I was the only parent who would listen and try to understand but now am the villain. In a recent conversation with a friend, the topic of being a “good mom” came up. She said to me, “it hurts now and some day it wont hurt so much but despite all the feelings you’ve had over the years, all the blame you’ve taken and all the good things you’ve done that went un noticed or others were given credit for.. as long as you know your heart, you’ll never regret being a good mom and in case you don’t hear it enough.. you’re a great mom.”
I took that with me through the rest of my day and chewed on it a bit. “You’ll never regret being a good mom..” and that is true. I don’t. My only goal as a parent was to be better than the one that I had. If you knew her, you know I’m slaying, even on my worst days. Do I have failures and short comings? Fuck yes.. Do I get it all right? Who does?! But have I tried and tried? Absolutely.
So to my “step” daughters.. I want to say this. I love you now just as I loved you the first day I met you. I have loved you more and more as the years have passed and it has been a blessing to me to watch you grow. Every time you think I don’t understand, I do. I understand the struggle of two homes because I am the provider of one. I understand the struggle to choose between us and your other home because I also have to choose. I choose not to show my feelings every time they are hurt, I choose not to shut down or shut you out despite that being my fight or flight response. I choose silence instead of being in your face because for all my choices, you also have to make your own and be happy with them. You have to make mistakes, you have to fail and succeed to grow. Just know, no matter what season were in, I love you.
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