We had a visit from my stepson’s mother the other day. She lives in another state so we don’t see her very often.
She called on Sunday to say she would be visiting her family on Monday. (Her family lives about an hour away from us.) Before she left town, she wanted to stop by and visit her son.
She arrived at our house that evening with her boyfriend and we all hung out at for a couple of hours, ordering pizza, chatting, and laughing together.
I suppose this may seem a bit strange. I’ve heard how turbulent the mother/stepmother relationship can be. I think our society even expects it to be. There are books and websites and counselors out there offering us all kinds of tools to help manage it.
Maybe my situation is rare- I don’t know, but for whatever reason she and I have chosen to get along fine.
We hug hello (yes, this was a surprise to me the first time, too!) and she often mentions to my husband how much she likes me and how grateful she is that I don’t feel threatened by her or act harshly toward her.
I’m happy we get along. She is a friendly person who has never disrespected me. I don’t judge her and she doesn’t prevent me from being the kind of stepmom I am.
Maybe it’s because my own mom was adopted, so I understand that parenting is less about who birthed a child than it is about how you raise the child.
There is no reason for his mom and me to have a strained relationship. She, my husband, my stepson, and I are all comfortable in our roles and interactions with one another.
My stepson has been very loved in his 12 years on this planet. He had his dad, his grandparents, and in recent years, me taking care of him, leading and teaching him.
His mom loves him. If she wants to visit, I’m happy to welcome her into my home for dinner. Her boyfriend was nice, too. It was like spending the evening with friends.
Why shouldn’t it be? We have one very important interest in common.
I’d love to hear from other stepfamilies. How do you handle the mother/stepmother relationship?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Foul Ball!
Baseball is a dangerous sport. The balls fly fast and hard, it’s no wonder the players wear helmets. My stepson loves to play. He has several games a week from April through June, so we’re right in the thick of it now.
Somehow the people who don’t play baseball are the ones who keep getting baseball injuries. Go figure.
After Saturday’s game, my husband, who coaches the team, hobbled out of the dugout severely favoring one ankle. He explained that he had been hit in the ankle with a baseball when warming up one of the pitchers. Due to the large amount of swelling, he spent the next few hours elevating and icing his ankle.
My husband isn’t the only magnet, though. For some reason this year, I’ve had more foul balls fly my way than I can count. It doesn’t matter if I sit by first base, third base, or stand behind home plate. Somehow foul balls adjust their trajectory toward me.
It all started at my stepson’s middle school game about a month ago, where at least 4 foul balls found their way to the bleachers set far behind home plate. One in particular was coming straight for my noggin at a time when I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have. To my husband’s desperate “heads up” cry, I tried to lean away from him, while he tried to pull me toward him. He managed to knock the ball away just over my head with one hand and scratched the heck out of my arm with his other. He got me from the front of my arm clear around to the back. It drew a fair amount of blood and it’s still healing now, but at least I didn’t get hit in the head with a ball.
The foul balls have continued their attack ever since. This weekend went above and beyond and left me wondering if the world is trying to take me out.
During Saturday’s game (the same one which left my husband limping), I set up my chair a good ways past third base. I’d guess at least 6 balls came out that way. Two prompted me to flee my chair quickly. One hit just two feet from where I cowered with my hands over my head. Clearly I need to learn to dodge better.
On Sunday there was yet another game at yet a different field. I set my chair up between home and first, closer to first. The first foul ball appeared to be coming directly for me so I took of running. It bounced right next to my chair. A couple of the other parents commented on the close call and joked that someone must have it out for me. I told them they had no idea, but I think by game’s end, they understood.
I found myself running from a lot more balls that morning. A couple of them were after I had abandoned my chair and moved to the other side of the bleachers (closer to home plate). It didn’t seem to matter where I was. I moved to a parking lot and a ball landed there.
As I finally determined that it didn’t matter where I stood, I went back to my chair and stayed alert. Sure enough, one of the last plays of the game sent me fleeing my chair again. As I ran away I heard the ball hit the ground right behind me, then felt the sting as it bounced into my hind end.
Add me to the injured players list. I may be out the rest of the season.
It is curious that my stepson who actually plays in the games hasn’t had any injuries. I’m grateful for that.
Somehow the people who don’t play baseball are the ones who keep getting baseball injuries. Go figure.
After Saturday’s game, my husband, who coaches the team, hobbled out of the dugout severely favoring one ankle. He explained that he had been hit in the ankle with a baseball when warming up one of the pitchers. Due to the large amount of swelling, he spent the next few hours elevating and icing his ankle.
My husband isn’t the only magnet, though. For some reason this year, I’ve had more foul balls fly my way than I can count. It doesn’t matter if I sit by first base, third base, or stand behind home plate. Somehow foul balls adjust their trajectory toward me.
It all started at my stepson’s middle school game about a month ago, where at least 4 foul balls found their way to the bleachers set far behind home plate. One in particular was coming straight for my noggin at a time when I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have. To my husband’s desperate “heads up” cry, I tried to lean away from him, while he tried to pull me toward him. He managed to knock the ball away just over my head with one hand and scratched the heck out of my arm with his other. He got me from the front of my arm clear around to the back. It drew a fair amount of blood and it’s still healing now, but at least I didn’t get hit in the head with a ball.
The foul balls have continued their attack ever since. This weekend went above and beyond and left me wondering if the world is trying to take me out.
During Saturday’s game (the same one which left my husband limping), I set up my chair a good ways past third base. I’d guess at least 6 balls came out that way. Two prompted me to flee my chair quickly. One hit just two feet from where I cowered with my hands over my head. Clearly I need to learn to dodge better.
On Sunday there was yet another game at yet a different field. I set my chair up between home and first, closer to first. The first foul ball appeared to be coming directly for me so I took of running. It bounced right next to my chair. A couple of the other parents commented on the close call and joked that someone must have it out for me. I told them they had no idea, but I think by game’s end, they understood.
I found myself running from a lot more balls that morning. A couple of them were after I had abandoned my chair and moved to the other side of the bleachers (closer to home plate). It didn’t seem to matter where I was. I moved to a parking lot and a ball landed there.
As I finally determined that it didn’t matter where I stood, I went back to my chair and stayed alert. Sure enough, one of the last plays of the game sent me fleeing my chair again. As I ran away I heard the ball hit the ground right behind me, then felt the sting as it bounced into my hind end.
Add me to the injured players list. I may be out the rest of the season.
It is curious that my stepson who actually plays in the games hasn’t had any injuries. I’m grateful for that.
Monday, May 10, 2010
How Was Mother's Day?
How was Mother’s Day? Did you get catered to and adored all day? I certainly hope so.
I got up much too early in the morning to go to my stepson’s baseball game. As we were packing up to leave, my stepson asked what I was going to do for the day. I said I was going to his baseball game. “But it’s Mother’s Day,” he said in a sweet tone that implied I shouldn’t have to go if I didn’t want to. I explained that yes it was Mother’s Day which was precisely why I wanted to go see my kid play.
And yes, I refer to him as my kid. He lives with me and my husband full-time. I go to all his games and do the daily things a mom is “supposed” to do. I believe that makes him partly my kid. I may not have made him, but I am contributing to the person he is becoming.
Just last week for my birthday he gave me a beautiful pot of flowers and a card, both of which I’m told he picked out all on his own. Scrawled on the front of the envelope in giant letters was “To Sherri/Bonus Mom.”
I’m lucky to have him in my life. As we sat at a hibachi table for Mother’s Day lunch, I told him so.
Throughout the day he wished me a happy mother’s day no less than a dozen times. Stepmotherhood brings with it a number of frustrations, but it is also filled with unexpected moments of bliss. Mother’s day has become one such event. I never expected to be acknowledged, but my stepson and my husband honor me each year. It’s really special.
I made phone calls to my own mom and stepmom this afternoon since they are in different states and I couldn’t be with them.
What did you do for Mother’s Day?
I got up much too early in the morning to go to my stepson’s baseball game. As we were packing up to leave, my stepson asked what I was going to do for the day. I said I was going to his baseball game. “But it’s Mother’s Day,” he said in a sweet tone that implied I shouldn’t have to go if I didn’t want to. I explained that yes it was Mother’s Day which was precisely why I wanted to go see my kid play.
And yes, I refer to him as my kid. He lives with me and my husband full-time. I go to all his games and do the daily things a mom is “supposed” to do. I believe that makes him partly my kid. I may not have made him, but I am contributing to the person he is becoming.
Just last week for my birthday he gave me a beautiful pot of flowers and a card, both of which I’m told he picked out all on his own. Scrawled on the front of the envelope in giant letters was “To Sherri/Bonus Mom.”
I’m lucky to have him in my life. As we sat at a hibachi table for Mother’s Day lunch, I told him so.
Throughout the day he wished me a happy mother’s day no less than a dozen times. Stepmotherhood brings with it a number of frustrations, but it is also filled with unexpected moments of bliss. Mother’s day has become one such event. I never expected to be acknowledged, but my stepson and my husband honor me each year. It’s really special.
I made phone calls to my own mom and stepmom this afternoon since they are in different states and I couldn’t be with them.
What did you do for Mother’s Day?
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Happy Mother's Day
Mothers come in all shapes and all sizes. They are patient, they are kind. They are stern, they are tough. They give hugs, kiss scrapes, and clap the loudest.
Mothers do what needs to be done, often without any thanks. They support, love, work, and provide.
To all mothers - biological, step, adoptive, foster - thank you for everything you do. I wish you a very happy mother's day!
In honor of you, here is author Kelly Corrigan talking about what makes her mother special. This video makes me laugh and it makes me tear up. (If you're viewing this in a reader, you may need to click through to the full post to see the video.)
Happy Mother's Day, everyone!
Mothers do what needs to be done, often without any thanks. They support, love, work, and provide.
To all mothers - biological, step, adoptive, foster - thank you for everything you do. I wish you a very happy mother's day!
In honor of you, here is author Kelly Corrigan talking about what makes her mother special. This video makes me laugh and it makes me tear up. (If you're viewing this in a reader, you may need to click through to the full post to see the video.)
Happy Mother's Day, everyone!
Friday, May 7, 2010
Happy Post - Perfect Purple Edition
As you probably know, I’ve been taking some time each Friday to reflect on what is making me happy. It’s great to focus on what is going right since we sometimes get bogged down in what is going wrong.
Yesterday was my birthday, so it only makes sense that today’s happy post show exactly what made my day so happy.
Because I can do whatever I want for my birthday, I took the day off work and went for a pedicure, shopped my local garden center for this season’s plants, dyed my hair a funky color, and had a fabulous homemade dinner.
At the garden shop, I had two goals in mind: creating a flowery mound in my front yard and planting some fresh vegetables and herbs in my backyard garden. Here is my bounty.
Flowers, veggies, and herbs ready to be planted
Over breakfast, my husband and mother-in-law asked what I wanted for my birthday dinner. My reply was simple. Chocolate cake with chocolate icing. They said, “Definitely cake! What do you want for dinner?” My reply was the same. I’m unclear as to why this was confusing. :)
We decided on grilled steaks, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and spinach salad with apples and grapes. It was all delicious, by the way. Plus, I didn’t have to cook or clean up. Woohoo!
As for cake, it was the perfect opportunity to use the butterfly cake pan my friend gave me for Christmas. If you ask me, it’s the most awesomest cake ever! Alongside the cake we had fresh strawberries and smoothies. Yum!
The most awesomest birthday cake ever!
But let’s get to the hair. I know a lot of you requested pictures. Back in March, I asked if a grown-up can have pink hair. Everyone who commented here, on WorkingMother.com, and on Twitter, was hugely supportive, so I decided that I would go for it on my birthday (and I didn't even chicken out!).
First let me explain that I scheduled the appointment thinking I would get a pink stripe. When I got to the salon, I looked through a few books to get ideas for what shade to use and where it should go.
I found a gorgeous shade of purply pink, so the hairdresser said she would mix purple and pink together. She went a little heavy on the purple because she was worried about giving me too bright of a color since I’ve never dyed my hair an unconventional color before.
She dyed a few well placed streaks on the underneath layers, which means when my hair is down, you may catch a glimpse of purple, but you may not. If I pull the top little bit of hair back, you see the purple streaks. I think the placement is perfect.
Without further ado, here are some photos. What do you think?
My purple streaks
Close-up courtesy of my stepson
I guess we will find out if a grown-up/stepmom can have purple hair. So far it's only been seen in my house.
As it turns out, purple hair was perfectly aligned with the unintentional theme in my gifts.
As it turns out, purple hair was perfectly aligned with the unintentional theme in my gifts.
My in-laws gave me a recipe book holder and a purple dress, my stepson gave me some beautiful purple flowers, and my husband gave me a fabulous new point-and-shoot camera in a lovely purply pink. Too perfect!
Purple was an unintentional theme for the gifts I received
So those are the things making me happy today. What is making you happy?
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Me Without Apologies
Today is my 33rd birthday. I love my birthday, not because of presents or attention (not that those hurt), but because it is the one day a year I feel absolutely guilt free about how I spend my time. It is the ultimate day to be me, without apologies.
Being my genuine, authentic self has been forefront in my mind in the last few years. I'm learning not to care what others may think. I'm learning that sometimes I think people think worse of me than they actually do. In the past I've let that fear dictate my actions, but over the past few years I've tried to let all of those thoughts go.
It's not easy. I still get caught up in worry and fear. I believe, though, that being genuine is worth it. Only by doing so can I be me without apologies everyday.
So what's on my agenda today? First, it was to take a self-portrait. I took the one you see here in my backyard this morning.
Next up, pedicure followed by shopping for my garden stuff (veggies! flowers! herbs!). This afternoon I'll be at the hairdresser getting my pink stripe. Something tells me another birthday self-portrait will be coming.
The universe must have known it was my birthday because we got a call this morning that my stepson's baseball practice scheduled for tonight has been canceled. Yay! That means we can all hang out and have fun tonight.
My husband is going to grill steaks and make smoothies. My mother-in-law is going to make one of my favorite salads and a chocolate cake. (Chocolate cake with chocolate icing was my first request upon being asked what I wanted for my birthday dinner. Actually it was my second and third requests, too.)
My mother-in-law said, "So we'll make the cake. Do you have a cake pan?"
Oh yes. I have a cake a pan. A glorious butterfly shaped cake pan that my beautiful friend Alina gave me for Christmas.
There will be chocolate butterfly cake. Awesome!
In the words of Big & Rich, "Today is even better than yesterday. Everything is going my way. I'm living in the big time."
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Spring Busyness
I know I've been quiet lately and I can't promise I'll be around consistently for the next few weeks, but I wanted to let you know I'm still here.
You see spring is a busy, busy time. (I'm sure many of you can relate!) My work generally gets a lot heavier in the spring months as the rate of sold projects picks up. There always seems to be a rush in the spring and then again in September through the end of the year.
On top of that it is baseball season and, as anyone with athletic kids or stepkids can attest, schedules can get quite hectic.
My stepson is playing on rec, travel, and school teams. There is pretty much a baseball practice or game (or both!) every day of the week.
With the weather turning warm and breezy, I consider baseball games great excuses to spend some time outside soaking it up. I love these spring days.
What are you up to this gorgeous spring? (Or fall for my ladies in the southern hemisphere?)
As we approach the end of the school year, I reflected on math homework at WorkingMother.com. I hope you'll check it out.
You see spring is a busy, busy time. (I'm sure many of you can relate!) My work generally gets a lot heavier in the spring months as the rate of sold projects picks up. There always seems to be a rush in the spring and then again in September through the end of the year.
On top of that it is baseball season and, as anyone with athletic kids or stepkids can attest, schedules can get quite hectic.
My stepson is playing on rec, travel, and school teams. There is pretty much a baseball practice or game (or both!) every day of the week.
With the weather turning warm and breezy, I consider baseball games great excuses to spend some time outside soaking it up. I love these spring days.
What are you up to this gorgeous spring? (Or fall for my ladies in the southern hemisphere?)
As we approach the end of the school year, I reflected on math homework at WorkingMother.com. I hope you'll check it out.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Happy Friday - The Thriller Edition
I’ve been taking some time each Friday to reflect on what is making me happy. It’s great to focus on what is going right since we sometimes get bogged down in what is going wrong.
Some of the things making me happy this week are:
Happy Friday!
Some of the things making me happy this week are:
- Thriller. That song came on while I was at the bookstore last night and I know I was smiling goofily because I was laughing in my head. That song always makes me laugh. I love the guy that talks at the end. “No mere mortal can resist, the evil of the thriller.” Indeed, this mere mortal can’t resist.
- My stepson’s interest in a philanthropy book I was reading the other night. He asked what philanthropy meant, then went on to find a few ideas in the book of things he wanted to do.
- Free-writing. I love to free-write. To just open my journal or my computer and write whatever comes to my mind no matter how absurd, minimal, or crazy it might be. I can simply conjecture, make observations, jump from topic to topic, or ramble. It’s freeing.
- Strawberry shortcake. My mother-in-law made strawberry shortcake for dessert the other night. I love that dessert (it is one of my mom’s specialties), yet I hardly ever have it. More please.
Happy Friday!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Too Young to Have a Kid So Big
I learned a big lesson about myself last week when it comes to taking things personally. I’ve spent my entire life being mistaken as younger than I am. I used to hate it when adults would say, “you’ll appreciate it someday.” As a kid, “someday” doesn’t exist. You just want to grow up now.
And now I am grown up. I’ll be 33 in just a few short weeks and I still get mistaken for being 10 years younger. I know, I know- what a great problem to have. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy with the way I look and I’m sure I’ll continue to appreciate it “someday.”
The thing is I’m at a time in my life where I’m supposed to be somewhat of an authority. You know, look like I’ve been working for a while, act like a parent, etc. I think I’m good at my job and I do my best to be a good stepmom, but I see how some people look at me and I assume they are thinking, “she’s too young.”
As if to confirm my suspicions, a lot of people I’ve encountered lately have commented that I look too young to have a 12-year-old kid. I get stuck in this awkward, “um, thanks” while I try to explain (or not) that he’s my stepson or that I’m older than I look.
In fact, this just happened last week. My stepson and I had dentist appointments and while I was in the dentist’s chair, I heard the dental hygienist in my stepson’s room say, “his mom is right over there.”
Then the dentist came in to give me his assessment of my stepson’s teeth. The first thing he said to me was, “oh, you’re his mom? You don’t look old enough to have a son that big.”
My mind went to its usual place of “What? Are you accusing me of birthing a baby when I was in high school?” Of course, I didn’t say that. I went into my usual stuttering answer (which probably doesn’t help the whole authority figure thing).
Later when I relayed the story to my husband saying I never know how to respond in that situation, I broke out laughing. I couldn’t help it. All of a sudden when I was telling him about it, I realized I was blowing things way out of proportion. Those people are probably just trying to be nice. The appropriate response would be a simple “thank you!” That’s it. No apologies or explanations necessary.
My whole panic is really just my stuff getting in the way. And by “stuff” I mean insecurities. It really is time for me to let go of my stuff and accept these comments as compliments.
And now I am grown up. I’ll be 33 in just a few short weeks and I still get mistaken for being 10 years younger. I know, I know- what a great problem to have. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy with the way I look and I’m sure I’ll continue to appreciate it “someday.”
The thing is I’m at a time in my life where I’m supposed to be somewhat of an authority. You know, look like I’ve been working for a while, act like a parent, etc. I think I’m good at my job and I do my best to be a good stepmom, but I see how some people look at me and I assume they are thinking, “she’s too young.”
As if to confirm my suspicions, a lot of people I’ve encountered lately have commented that I look too young to have a 12-year-old kid. I get stuck in this awkward, “um, thanks” while I try to explain (or not) that he’s my stepson or that I’m older than I look.
In fact, this just happened last week. My stepson and I had dentist appointments and while I was in the dentist’s chair, I heard the dental hygienist in my stepson’s room say, “his mom is right over there.”
Then the dentist came in to give me his assessment of my stepson’s teeth. The first thing he said to me was, “oh, you’re his mom? You don’t look old enough to have a son that big.”
My mind went to its usual place of “What? Are you accusing me of birthing a baby when I was in high school?” Of course, I didn’t say that. I went into my usual stuttering answer (which probably doesn’t help the whole authority figure thing).
Later when I relayed the story to my husband saying I never know how to respond in that situation, I broke out laughing. I couldn’t help it. All of a sudden when I was telling him about it, I realized I was blowing things way out of proportion. Those people are probably just trying to be nice. The appropriate response would be a simple “thank you!” That’s it. No apologies or explanations necessary.
My whole panic is really just my stuff getting in the way. And by “stuff” I mean insecurities. It really is time for me to let go of my stuff and accept these comments as compliments.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Affirmations #4: Being Genuine
"Don't take it personally."
Oh, that affirmation last week was a good one. I realized how many things I take personally in my day-to-day life. (Hint: a lot!) One such story coming later this week. Stay tuned.
On a few occasions last week I was able to recognize where I was about to take something personally and was able to change my thought process to instead consider other possible meanings.
In other instances where I wasn't as lucky to catch myself in the act of taking things personally, I was able to reflect later on what happened and how I could respond in the future.
That's a big lesson, don't you think?
This week I feel like I need to focus on another aspect of myself:
I am genuine. My actions and behavior reflect my true self.
I've had something of an identity crisis for the last, oh, 30+ years. I am a people pleaser who has spent most of my life trying to keep (or make) other people happy.
What I'm learning is this: I need to be true to myself in order to best serve those around me. I can't help others effectively if I am trying to be something that doesn't fit.
So this week out with the people pleasing, in with authenticity! Only by fulfilling my core values can I help others fulfill theirs.
What will you focus on this week?
Oh, that affirmation last week was a good one. I realized how many things I take personally in my day-to-day life. (Hint: a lot!) One such story coming later this week. Stay tuned.
On a few occasions last week I was able to recognize where I was about to take something personally and was able to change my thought process to instead consider other possible meanings.
In other instances where I wasn't as lucky to catch myself in the act of taking things personally, I was able to reflect later on what happened and how I could respond in the future.
That's a big lesson, don't you think?
This week I feel like I need to focus on another aspect of myself:
I am genuine. My actions and behavior reflect my true self.
I've had something of an identity crisis for the last, oh, 30+ years. I am a people pleaser who has spent most of my life trying to keep (or make) other people happy.
What I'm learning is this: I need to be true to myself in order to best serve those around me. I can't help others effectively if I am trying to be something that doesn't fit.
So this week out with the people pleasing, in with authenticity! Only by fulfilling my core values can I help others fulfill theirs.
What will you focus on this week?
Friday, April 16, 2010
Happy Friday - Confetti, Comfy Living Spaces, and Other Magic
Happy Friday, everyone! I don't know about you, but it's been another busy week for me. Now that my stepson's baseball season has begun, we will be busy until the end of June. Spring baseball games sure are a great excuse to spend time outside, though!
Since it is Friday, I took a few minutes today to think about what is making me happy this week:
- The glorious bloggesses I "met" this week in 5 Minutes for Mom's Ultimate Blog Party. I now have some new reading to do in the blogosphere. I appreciate those that dropped by this blog to toss a little confetti on this party.
- The wood floor that my husband and I just finished laying in our living room last night. I’m so excited to start bringing furniture back in. I’m also ecstatic about the faux metal work we did on the step up into the kitchen.
- Flowers! The trees along our street were in full bloom for Easter and I took that opportunity to play with my camera. This week the petals are beginning to flutter off like snow to make way for fresh, green leaves.
- My new Converse sneakers. This is my very first pair of Converse and I don’t know how I’ve gone this long without them. I love them. Their comfy and sparkly and inspired my husband to nickname me Stardust. Lovely!
- Bubbles! Blowing bubbles is whimsical. I took the bubble photo and it’s now my desktop image on my computer. Everytime I sit down to work, I feel like I’m looking at a crystal ball.
What is making you happy this week? Leave your happy list in the comments.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Advice for Stepmoms
Today on Working Mother I tackled the big question about what advice to give new or soon-to-be stepmoms. I wasn't entirely sure where the post was going until I was halfway through, but sometimes I know there is something important to say if only I take time to write.
Yes, that's how my muse and I roll.
Check it out here and then let me know what advice you would offer new stepmoms.
Yes, that's how my muse and I roll.
Check it out here and then let me know what advice you would offer new stepmoms.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Disengagement
Being a stepmom brings with it a number of challenges mainly because there are no clear cut job descriptions.
Take discipline for example. A biological mother would have built a bond with her baby from day one. By the time it comes to setting and enforcing rules, there is already a strong connection between mother and child. The child may not always want to adhere to bedtime and there may be escalating tones, but they know their mother loves them anyway. If they get upset, they tend to get over it quickly.
As a stepmom, that bond hasn’t been set so enforcing bedtime can turn into “my stepmom is so mean!”
There is a lot of talk in stepmom writings about disengaging. Disengaging basically means that as a stepparent, you might decide to fall back and leave the “parenting” to the biological parent(s).
I wonder how this method works for stepmoms whose stepchildren have two biological parents in the picture. My husband has full custody of his son, so there aren’t two parents already looking after my stepson. It’s just my husband and me (and my in-laws).
Since I am the woman of the house, I take on a lot of traditional motherly roles like cooking, laundry, and homework reminders.
Personally, I prefer for my husband to do the disciplining. But let’s be realistic. While he is a tremendous father, he is not the best mother. He doesn’t always notice things like bedtime slipping by.
The last thing I want to do is nag or be the mean stepmom with so many rules. I do, however, want to make sure my stepson gets the sleep he needs, minds his responsibilities, and uses good manners.
With him in the house full-time, those things are important to me. I’ve found to save my sanity, lately I have been releasing my hold on those things. I’ve been letting my husband police chores and make sure my stepson makes it to baseball practices. I help where needed, but I’ve stepped back a bit.
In all fairness, parenting is still fairly new to me. It doesn’t help that stepmotherhood is rife with unique challenges.
I guess my question is how realistic is disengagement when you are a full-time stepmom? I think I’m starting to find my right balance, but I’m frustrated with all the advice to leave “parenting” to mom and dad. What if mom isn’t around?
Does disengagement work for you stepmoms whose stepchildren split their time between your husband and their mother? Are there any other full-time stepmoms out there- how do you handle the parenting/disengagement balance?
Take discipline for example. A biological mother would have built a bond with her baby from day one. By the time it comes to setting and enforcing rules, there is already a strong connection between mother and child. The child may not always want to adhere to bedtime and there may be escalating tones, but they know their mother loves them anyway. If they get upset, they tend to get over it quickly.
As a stepmom, that bond hasn’t been set so enforcing bedtime can turn into “my stepmom is so mean!”
There is a lot of talk in stepmom writings about disengaging. Disengaging basically means that as a stepparent, you might decide to fall back and leave the “parenting” to the biological parent(s).
I wonder how this method works for stepmoms whose stepchildren have two biological parents in the picture. My husband has full custody of his son, so there aren’t two parents already looking after my stepson. It’s just my husband and me (and my in-laws).
Since I am the woman of the house, I take on a lot of traditional motherly roles like cooking, laundry, and homework reminders.
Personally, I prefer for my husband to do the disciplining. But let’s be realistic. While he is a tremendous father, he is not the best mother. He doesn’t always notice things like bedtime slipping by.
The last thing I want to do is nag or be the mean stepmom with so many rules. I do, however, want to make sure my stepson gets the sleep he needs, minds his responsibilities, and uses good manners.
With him in the house full-time, those things are important to me. I’ve found to save my sanity, lately I have been releasing my hold on those things. I’ve been letting my husband police chores and make sure my stepson makes it to baseball practices. I help where needed, but I’ve stepped back a bit.
In all fairness, parenting is still fairly new to me. It doesn’t help that stepmotherhood is rife with unique challenges.
I guess my question is how realistic is disengagement when you are a full-time stepmom? I think I’m starting to find my right balance, but I’m frustrated with all the advice to leave “parenting” to mom and dad. What if mom isn’t around?
Does disengagement work for you stepmoms whose stepchildren split their time between your husband and their mother? Are there any other full-time stepmoms out there- how do you handle the parenting/disengagement balance?
Monday, April 12, 2010
Blog Parties, Affirmations, and Dreams About Wednesday Martin?
My brain is swirling with a lot of things right now, so I apologize in advance for the somewhat random conglomeration of topics. Deep breaths, everyone. Here we go.
The lovely ladies at 5 Minutes for Mom are hosting the Ultimate Blog Party this week. It’s a party… on the web. No cups or confetti to clean up when it’s done, but perhaps I’ll find some kindred spirits.
By way of introduction, I’ll say that I’m not a biological mom. I am a full-time stepmom. What I mean by that is my husband has full custody of his son. Where other children of divorce often split their time between their mother’s and father’s homes, my stepson is with us all of the time.
I met my stepson when he was about to turn nine. I wasn’t there for his first laugh, first steps, or first words. I didn’t get to marvel with him while he learned about grass or trees or birds.
When I met my stepson he had already been on baseball and soccer teams. He knew how to read and multiply numbers. Meanwhile, I had to learn his favorite foods, what clothes he liked to wear, and which hair clippers the hairdresser should use when trimming.
He had to learn what to call me (Sherri is fine), but more importantly he had to learn that I wasn’t there to impede his relationship with his dad. That wasn’t something I could say and have him learn over night. It was something he had to grow comfortable with in his own time.
Becoming a stepfamily happens slowly over years. It isn’t simply living under the same roof or sharing a last name. It takes time to grow together and figure out how to respect one another.
My husband, my stepson, and I are still figuring it out. I married my husband a year and a half ago and my stepson is now nearing 13.
There are moments I treasure and moments I wonder what I got myself into. Overall, though, we’ve hit a rhythm with our lives and our schedules.
Best of all, there are plenty of hugs to go around.
I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been extra sensitive to criticism (and by criticism, I really mean perceived criticism). At home and at work I’ve struggled with this, so it seems time to focus on this:
Don’t take it personally.
If I detect a sour tone of voice or anger or frustration, I will do my best to understand that it was not aimed at me. When I feel strong I enough, I will go further by trying to decipher what might be the root cause of a bad mood.
This week, I will understand that it’s not about me.
Just as I was about to tell my husband who it was, he took my hand, led me to her and said, “Hi Wednesday! How have you been? It’s been a while.” He introduced me to her and we talked about stepmotherhood and writing and blogging and life. (I know… that’s a lot of stuff!)
When we parted, I talked with my husband about how they met (they were old friends) and her role in studying stepfamilies (of which he was unaware until then).
I was so happy to have met her. Alas, when I awoke I realized that this was all in my imagination.
I’m not great at dream interpretation, so I don’t know what all this means, but it sounds like I should at least keep following Wednesday’s work.
Ultimate Blog Party intro
The lovely ladies at 5 Minutes for Mom are hosting the Ultimate Blog Party this week. It’s a party… on the web. No cups or confetti to clean up when it’s done, but perhaps I’ll find some kindred spirits.By way of introduction, I’ll say that I’m not a biological mom. I am a full-time stepmom. What I mean by that is my husband has full custody of his son. Where other children of divorce often split their time between their mother’s and father’s homes, my stepson is with us all of the time.
I met my stepson when he was about to turn nine. I wasn’t there for his first laugh, first steps, or first words. I didn’t get to marvel with him while he learned about grass or trees or birds.
When I met my stepson he had already been on baseball and soccer teams. He knew how to read and multiply numbers. Meanwhile, I had to learn his favorite foods, what clothes he liked to wear, and which hair clippers the hairdresser should use when trimming.
He had to learn what to call me (Sherri is fine), but more importantly he had to learn that I wasn’t there to impede his relationship with his dad. That wasn’t something I could say and have him learn over night. It was something he had to grow comfortable with in his own time.
Becoming a stepfamily happens slowly over years. It isn’t simply living under the same roof or sharing a last name. It takes time to grow together and figure out how to respect one another.
My husband, my stepson, and I are still figuring it out. I married my husband a year and a half ago and my stepson is now nearing 13.
There are moments I treasure and moments I wonder what I got myself into. Overall, though, we’ve hit a rhythm with our lives and our schedules.
Best of all, there are plenty of hugs to go around.
Affirmations #3
Ever since The Stepmom’s Toolbox suggested a 30 day affirmation challenge, I’ve been inspired to set weekly affirmations on Mondays. Just a simple phrase that I can keep with me and breathe in to help me stay focused on what is important.I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been extra sensitive to criticism (and by criticism, I really mean perceived criticism). At home and at work I’ve struggled with this, so it seems time to focus on this:
Don’t take it personally.
If I detect a sour tone of voice or anger or frustration, I will do my best to understand that it was not aimed at me. When I feel strong I enough, I will go further by trying to decipher what might be the root cause of a bad mood.
This week, I will understand that it’s not about me.
Dream About Wednesday Martin
In other news, I had a dream last night in which I met Wednesday Martin. In my dream, my husband and I were in a grocery store and I saw Wednesday selecting some produce.Just as I was about to tell my husband who it was, he took my hand, led me to her and said, “Hi Wednesday! How have you been? It’s been a while.” He introduced me to her and we talked about stepmotherhood and writing and blogging and life. (I know… that’s a lot of stuff!)
When we parted, I talked with my husband about how they met (they were old friends) and her role in studying stepfamilies (of which he was unaware until then).
I was so happy to have met her. Alas, when I awoke I realized that this was all in my imagination.
I’m not great at dream interpretation, so I don’t know what all this means, but it sounds like I should at least keep following Wednesday’s work.
In closing…
This should be an interesting week. How the heck are you?Thursday, April 1, 2010
107 Days and Counting: In-law Update
I thought it might be time for an in-law update. As you may or may not recall, my husband’s parents moved in to our guest room at the beginning of December due to an unfortunate circumstance.
The overly complicated politics involved in their ability to get a new home have been dragging on interminably, so the living arrangement that we all thought would surely be over by spring is still very much in place.
We are now 107 days in and here is what I know.
We had to throw out the mini-pickles that took up residence in our refrigerator early on. No one seemed to be eating them and the concept of tiny pickles in a pudding cup style container, in general, was a bit unsettling to me.
Despite arriving at our house with an entire case of Cheerios, it would appear my in-laws don’t actually eat Cheerios. In four months, we are down from the original 12 boxes to 11.
Burglars don’t knock, a fact we learned after my father-in-law arrived home after midnight a few times sans house key. My husband has an uncanny ability to awake, roll out of bed, grab a flashlight and a baseball bat, and be in the hallway in less than 5 seconds. Fortunately his ninja skills were not required.
It is difficult enough to coordinate three people’s schedules. It is so much more difficult to coordinate five people’s schedules.
The house feels like it’s in a constant state of disarray. I’m not by any means implying that my in-laws are messy people. But accommodating two more adults in one house means there is just plain more stuff.
For example, the stuff that used to be neatly stored in the guest room closet is heaped in the upstairs hallway, so that my in-laws could hang their clothes.
There is a cable running from my stepson’s room down the hall, balanced over top of the bathroom door frame and down the other side to reach into the guest room giving my in-laws their own TV.
There are reading glasses everywhere.
My stepson’s sink counter and cabinet underneath are filled with toiletries and hair styling tools that are not his.
And someone keeps oiling the non-stick skillet, though no one will admit to it. I keep finding it in the cupboard with beads of oil on it and then I have to wash it again before I can use it.
Which brings me to another thing I’ve learned about having house guests for an extended period of time: It means there are more people saying, “not me.” I have a whole new appreciation for the Not Me ghost in Family Circus comics. I think he’s moved into our home as well.
There are some good things, too.
I’m not the only girl in the house anymore, so I fair better in family votes.
My in-laws share in the cooking duties. On days when I commute to New York, not only have they cooked and fed my family, they have saved a plate for me in the oven. Rather than arriving home late at night and having to figure out what to make, I get to just sit down and eat. That feeling is priceless.
So, that’s what we’ve been up to. Wish them luck that my in-laws’ situation will be resolved soon. They really miss having their own space (not to mention all their stuff which is still in storage).
The overly complicated politics involved in their ability to get a new home have been dragging on interminably, so the living arrangement that we all thought would surely be over by spring is still very much in place.
We are now 107 days in and here is what I know.
We had to throw out the mini-pickles that took up residence in our refrigerator early on. No one seemed to be eating them and the concept of tiny pickles in a pudding cup style container, in general, was a bit unsettling to me.
Despite arriving at our house with an entire case of Cheerios, it would appear my in-laws don’t actually eat Cheerios. In four months, we are down from the original 12 boxes to 11.
Burglars don’t knock, a fact we learned after my father-in-law arrived home after midnight a few times sans house key. My husband has an uncanny ability to awake, roll out of bed, grab a flashlight and a baseball bat, and be in the hallway in less than 5 seconds. Fortunately his ninja skills were not required.
It is difficult enough to coordinate three people’s schedules. It is so much more difficult to coordinate five people’s schedules.
The house feels like it’s in a constant state of disarray. I’m not by any means implying that my in-laws are messy people. But accommodating two more adults in one house means there is just plain more stuff.
For example, the stuff that used to be neatly stored in the guest room closet is heaped in the upstairs hallway, so that my in-laws could hang their clothes.
There is a cable running from my stepson’s room down the hall, balanced over top of the bathroom door frame and down the other side to reach into the guest room giving my in-laws their own TV.
There are reading glasses everywhere.
My stepson’s sink counter and cabinet underneath are filled with toiletries and hair styling tools that are not his.
And someone keeps oiling the non-stick skillet, though no one will admit to it. I keep finding it in the cupboard with beads of oil on it and then I have to wash it again before I can use it.
Which brings me to another thing I’ve learned about having house guests for an extended period of time: It means there are more people saying, “not me.” I have a whole new appreciation for the Not Me ghost in Family Circus comics. I think he’s moved into our home as well.
There are some good things, too.
I’m not the only girl in the house anymore, so I fair better in family votes.
My in-laws share in the cooking duties. On days when I commute to New York, not only have they cooked and fed my family, they have saved a plate for me in the oven. Rather than arriving home late at night and having to figure out what to make, I get to just sit down and eat. That feeling is priceless.
So, that’s what we’ve been up to. Wish them luck that my in-laws’ situation will be resolved soon. They really miss having their own space (not to mention all their stuff which is still in storage).
Monday, March 29, 2010
Affirmations #2
Setting a stepmom affirmation last week helped me keep a positive attitude, so I wanted to try it again this week.
Where The Stepmom's Toolbox has issued a 30 daily affirmations challenge, I am adjusting it to weekly affirmations which gives me extra time to really internalize my selected thought.
For this week's affirmation, I have gone back to the list posted on my closet wall. The lesson I chose continues the path I set last week.
Today may I trust that all will be well.
Last week I learned to breathe and let pass the things that I found bothersome. In doing so, things got done eventually and all turned out well.
It seems appropriate this week to start at the end and trust that all will be well. Because ultimately, it will be, whether it was done "my way" or not.
What is your affirmation of the week (or day)?
Where The Stepmom's Toolbox has issued a 30 daily affirmations challenge, I am adjusting it to weekly affirmations which gives me extra time to really internalize my selected thought.
For this week's affirmation, I have gone back to the list posted on my closet wall. The lesson I chose continues the path I set last week.
Today may I trust that all will be well.
Last week I learned to breathe and let pass the things that I found bothersome. In doing so, things got done eventually and all turned out well.
It seems appropriate this week to start at the end and trust that all will be well. Because ultimately, it will be, whether it was done "my way" or not.
What is your affirmation of the week (or day)?
Friday, March 26, 2010
Affirmation Follow-Up and Happy
Affirmation Follow-Up
After the affirmations post last Sunday, I thought it might be a good idea to look back over my week and see if it was affected by my week's affirmation.
This week I chose to focus on the phrase, "Today may I breathe and let it pass." I was becoming quite frustrated with the level of housework I felt like I was doing compared with the level of housework I felt like everyone else was doing.
I'm obviously too involved in the situation to determine if I am truly doing more than everyone else or if I just wasn't giving enough credit to everyone else.
Instead I focused on my affirmation. I started letting things pass rather than nit-picking over things that I thought should be done. I backed off my "parental" side that wanted to keep everyone on schedule and let my husband handle policing my stepson's chore board.
In moments where I wondered why the dishwasher hadn't been unloaded yet while other dishes piled on the counter or why the trash was overflowing, I did not nag. I mentioned once (and only once) "you have the opportunity to earn some money today for the dishwasher, the trash, and setting the dinner table." If my husband chose to, he could nag.
(I should mention here that my stepson earns money through his chores to pay for his cell phone. My husband confiscated that phone this week due to my stepson's late payment and lack of funds.)
At any rate, I was not policing. I was breathing and letting things pass.
A miraculous thing happened. Chores got done. They may not have been taken care of on my timetable, but why did I need a timetable anyway? So what if the dishes piled up? I let it go. Whenever it got done, it got done.
By Wednesday, my husband, my stepson, and I were hitting a rhythm. We even spent extra time talking and snuggling. I'd say this week's affirmation was a success. This weekend I'll have to think about my next affirmation.
This week's Happy
Today at Stepmom Diaries on WorkingMother.com, I talk about a book blogging group that, each Friday, has me looking at what is making me happy this week.
I thought it might be fun to bring that exercise here as well, since we all get caught up in the helter skelter. It's nice to take a minute and think about what makes you happy.
These are some of the things making me happy this week.
- A "quiet" work week. That's right, no major fires to put out this week. I got to focus simply on getting things done.
- My friends. This week I heard from each of my closest friends. It was such a treasure to share joy and encouragement.
- Twitter. I have met and shared conversations with so many people I otherwise would never have met including other stepmoms, artists, and soul searchers. (Come say hello. I'm @lifeafterweb.)
- My stepson made the middle school baseball team. This is the first year he is eligible to try out and he wanted so much to make the team. Hooray for him!
- My husband who, for whatever reason, gave up his weekly game night (an xbox online meetup with his friend) and instead spent the evening snuggling with me on the couch. He even banned laptops.
What is making you happy this week? Share your Happy in the comments.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Introducing My Guys to Bobby McFerrin's Music
I am different from my husband and my stepson. When I say that I am referring to my love for seeking good in this world, believing in magic, and embracing whimsy.
My husband and my stepson, on the other hand, are guys guys. They like baseball and video games and they laugh when they fart.
They are still good people, mind you. We just don't always see things the same way. Where I see wonder, sometimes they don't.
So when I took them to see Bobby McFerrin last night in Princeton, I was worried. When I bought the tickets as a Christmas gift, it seemed like a fun idea, but when it came to show time last night, I was beginning to second guess it.
Thirty seconds into the show, my husband looked dumbfounded and he whispered to me that my stepson was trying hard to stifle laughing.
Ugh. I panicked for a moment and thought ahead to what might potentially be a painful ride home as they chastised me for picking such a "goofy" concert. Aside from that, I really didn't want to be responsible for them not having a good time.
After a while I forgot about those worries and let myself get drawn into McFerrin's amazing vocal work as he performed a one man show using only his voice, the tapping of his feet, and patting his hand on his chest to create fully developed music.
Things got really fun as he started encouraging audience participation inviting audience members to the stage one at a time to dance improv to McFerrin's musical improv. He also invited people up to sing whatever song they chose and he would sing along with them in his own unique style.
By then I noticed my husband and stepson were watching with more interest and laughing with the rest of the crowd at McFerrin's sense of humor. Phew! Crisis averted.
In fact, during the ride home as we talked about the concert they admitted they were worried when the show first started, but that Bobby McFerrin really does cool things with his voice. They caveated that with "he is a special kind of crazy."
I'll settle for that. Like I said, I knew it was going to be a different experience for them. My only hope was that they would get some enjoyment out of it, which it seems like they did.
I posted a video below of McFerrin performing Bach and Ave Maria with audience participation, just as he did in the concert we went to last night.
His vision and ability to be a true leader are inspiring, even more so that he could win over my guys.
The energy in the theater restored my faith that people are inherently good and can work together if only they take a chance.
My husband and my stepson, on the other hand, are guys guys. They like baseball and video games and they laugh when they fart.
They are still good people, mind you. We just don't always see things the same way. Where I see wonder, sometimes they don't.
So when I took them to see Bobby McFerrin last night in Princeton, I was worried. When I bought the tickets as a Christmas gift, it seemed like a fun idea, but when it came to show time last night, I was beginning to second guess it.
Thirty seconds into the show, my husband looked dumbfounded and he whispered to me that my stepson was trying hard to stifle laughing.
Ugh. I panicked for a moment and thought ahead to what might potentially be a painful ride home as they chastised me for picking such a "goofy" concert. Aside from that, I really didn't want to be responsible for them not having a good time.
After a while I forgot about those worries and let myself get drawn into McFerrin's amazing vocal work as he performed a one man show using only his voice, the tapping of his feet, and patting his hand on his chest to create fully developed music.
Things got really fun as he started encouraging audience participation inviting audience members to the stage one at a time to dance improv to McFerrin's musical improv. He also invited people up to sing whatever song they chose and he would sing along with them in his own unique style.
By then I noticed my husband and stepson were watching with more interest and laughing with the rest of the crowd at McFerrin's sense of humor. Phew! Crisis averted.
In fact, during the ride home as we talked about the concert they admitted they were worried when the show first started, but that Bobby McFerrin really does cool things with his voice. They caveated that with "he is a special kind of crazy."
I'll settle for that. Like I said, I knew it was going to be a different experience for them. My only hope was that they would get some enjoyment out of it, which it seems like they did.
I posted a video below of McFerrin performing Bach and Ave Maria with audience participation, just as he did in the concert we went to last night.
His vision and ability to be a true leader are inspiring, even more so that he could win over my guys.
The energy in the theater restored my faith that people are inherently good and can work together if only they take a chance.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Spring Style
Now that Spring is officially here and we seem to have left the blizzards behind us (I hope!), my energy is stirring. Creativity is blossoming during my ever-evolving quest to decide who I am and how to present myself to the world.
Today it’s through a super comfy-artsy-whimsical outfit. I treated myself to a new scarf yesterday (ok… two scarves) to cheer up my same ol’ same ol’ clothes.
I’m defying the gray skies that threaten to rain throughout the afternoon with my own Spring flowers.
How is Spring affecting your style?
Today it’s through a super comfy-artsy-whimsical outfit. I treated myself to a new scarf yesterday (ok… two scarves) to cheer up my same ol’ same ol’ clothes.
I’m defying the gray skies that threaten to rain throughout the afternoon with my own Spring flowers.
How is Spring affecting your style?
Monday, March 22, 2010
Ancestral Origins
Last Wednesday was St. Patrick’s Day, which usually can be relied on for at least one person asking, “Are you Irish?”
My confusion in answering first begins with the tremendous localness of my ancestors. My grandmother on my dad’s side has done extensive genealogy research on our family and as far back as she has traced, most of my ancestors were born right here in the United States.
In the 1780s, one of my ancestors was born in Ireland before coming to America and marrying. That’s it. Just one. Everyone else in that genealogical study was born here, some even fighting in the Revolutionary War.
For those, like me, not so great with remembering historic dates, that war began in 1775 and ended in 1783. That’s a long time to have been in this relatively new country.
On my mom’s side of the family, we have no history with which to answer this question. She was adopted when she was a baby and we don’t know her background at all.
Disconcerting? Yep.
If I have to answer the origins question, I guess my answer is that I’m pretty much plain American with the tiniest percentage of Irish and a whole lot of mystery.
My confusion in answering first begins with the tremendous localness of my ancestors. My grandmother on my dad’s side has done extensive genealogy research on our family and as far back as she has traced, most of my ancestors were born right here in the United States.
In the 1780s, one of my ancestors was born in Ireland before coming to America and marrying. That’s it. Just one. Everyone else in that genealogical study was born here, some even fighting in the Revolutionary War.
For those, like me, not so great with remembering historic dates, that war began in 1775 and ended in 1783. That’s a long time to have been in this relatively new country.
On my mom’s side of the family, we have no history with which to answer this question. She was adopted when she was a baby and we don’t know her background at all.
Disconcerting? Yep.
If I have to answer the origins question, I guess my answer is that I’m pretty much plain American with the tiniest percentage of Irish and a whole lot of mystery.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Affirmations
I used to think affirmations were hokey. It always made me think of people trying to be tough in business. I don’t know why, but that’s what my mind always made it about.
Last year, Jenn Gibson at Kind Over Matter collected sets of affirmations from several wonderful women and offered them as free downloads on her site.
With options like “Today may I embrace whimsy” and "Today may I let my intuition guide me," I could really get on board with affirmations.
I printed them out and taped them to the wall in my closet where I could see them every day while getting dressed. I even added a few little stickies to mark which ones I want to focus on at the moment.
I don’t change affirmations daily. I tend to hang on to them for a week or so until I feel ready for something different.
Last week Erin talked about affirmations on her blog, following The Stepmom's Toolbox Radio Show where the topic was raised. Erin and crew decided to start The 30 Day Affirmation Challenge to see how daily affirmations help other stepmoms.
One of Erin's opening examples made me laugh: "I will recognize that I may be the most mature one in the stepfamily." We probably all have days like that, right?
Until Erin’s post, I never really thought about using affirmations in relation to my role as a stepmom. The idea intrigues me, so I think I’ll give it a try in my usual weekly style.
This week, my stepmom affirmation is ripped right from the Kind Over Matter set. Today may I breath and let it pass.
It's been a trying week on my soul as I've asked for help around the house and tried to police the chore board. I just don't want to do that. In fact, as of today I am letting the "not mine" chores stack up to save my own sanity.
I'm sure all of us in this house feel like we are doing a lot. Just because I prefer my living space to be organized doesn't mean it has to be everyone else's priority. Furthermore, I reserve the right to not be traffic cop.
If it doesn't bother anyone else that couch space is dwindling because of laptops, power cords, and pillows in disarray, I will do my best to breathe and let it pass. Then I will flop contentedly into my corner reading chair where nothing stands in the way of my resting.
Last year, Jenn Gibson at Kind Over Matter collected sets of affirmations from several wonderful women and offered them as free downloads on her site.
With options like “Today may I embrace whimsy” and "Today may I let my intuition guide me," I could really get on board with affirmations.
I printed them out and taped them to the wall in my closet where I could see them every day while getting dressed. I even added a few little stickies to mark which ones I want to focus on at the moment.
I don’t change affirmations daily. I tend to hang on to them for a week or so until I feel ready for something different.
Last week Erin talked about affirmations on her blog, following The Stepmom's Toolbox Radio Show where the topic was raised. Erin and crew decided to start The 30 Day Affirmation Challenge to see how daily affirmations help other stepmoms.
One of Erin's opening examples made me laugh: "I will recognize that I may be the most mature one in the stepfamily." We probably all have days like that, right?
Until Erin’s post, I never really thought about using affirmations in relation to my role as a stepmom. The idea intrigues me, so I think I’ll give it a try in my usual weekly style.
This week, my stepmom affirmation is ripped right from the Kind Over Matter set. Today may I breath and let it pass.
It's been a trying week on my soul as I've asked for help around the house and tried to police the chore board. I just don't want to do that. In fact, as of today I am letting the "not mine" chores stack up to save my own sanity.
I'm sure all of us in this house feel like we are doing a lot. Just because I prefer my living space to be organized doesn't mean it has to be everyone else's priority. Furthermore, I reserve the right to not be traffic cop.
If it doesn't bother anyone else that couch space is dwindling because of laptops, power cords, and pillows in disarray, I will do my best to breathe and let it pass. Then I will flop contentedly into my corner reading chair where nothing stands in the way of my resting.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Wild and Crazy Stepmom
I used to think I was flighty and unfocused. Maybe it’s from growing up with an engineer as a father. I tried hard to be a good student and follow a logical, “stable” path.
Now that I’m a grown-up, I have a good job in web project management. I know how to do my job and I think I’m good at it.
But there’s this other side to me that I’ve been afraid to acknowledge as more than just a hobby. I’m somewhat of a creative free-spirit. It feels weird to say that because I’ve trained myself to be logical.
The point I’m trying to make is I have “wild and crazy” ideas. A few days ago I was given a box of brightly colored nail polishes in blue, green, purple, and orange to name a few. I was delighted, yet terrified.
As a grown-up web producer stepmom, can I wear those crazy colors? Bear in mind, I usually keep my finger nails natural. In the summer I like to get pedicures and often go for a simple french pedicure or the occasional magenta to spice it up.
Today as I headed out of the office for work, my husband asked where my St. Patrick’s Day green was. I told him I didn’t have anything in my work wardrobe that was green. He asked, “Don’t you have green nail polish now?”
I was so excited that I ran downstairs and polished my nails over breakfast. Grown up… in the office… in green nail polish. It’s such a rush! I’ve been happy and energetic all day.
This little box of polishes appeals so much to the side of me that wants to dye a pink stripe in my hair. I’ve already been working up my courage and may try the pink stripe for my birthday in May (if I don’t chicken out).
When I think about it, though, this little voice says, “you are supposed to be a responsible adult. You’re a stepmom for crying out loud. What will people think when you show up to your stepson's baseball games with pink hair?”
So I’m asking you stepmoms and non-stepmoms alike: What would you think of a grown up woman like me with a pink stripe in her hair?
Does being a stepmom hold you back from any wild and crazy ideas?
Now that I’m a grown-up, I have a good job in web project management. I know how to do my job and I think I’m good at it.
But there’s this other side to me that I’ve been afraid to acknowledge as more than just a hobby. I’m somewhat of a creative free-spirit. It feels weird to say that because I’ve trained myself to be logical.
The point I’m trying to make is I have “wild and crazy” ideas. A few days ago I was given a box of brightly colored nail polishes in blue, green, purple, and orange to name a few. I was delighted, yet terrified.
As a grown-up web producer stepmom, can I wear those crazy colors? Bear in mind, I usually keep my finger nails natural. In the summer I like to get pedicures and often go for a simple french pedicure or the occasional magenta to spice it up.
Today as I headed out of the office for work, my husband asked where my St. Patrick’s Day green was. I told him I didn’t have anything in my work wardrobe that was green. He asked, “Don’t you have green nail polish now?”
I was so excited that I ran downstairs and polished my nails over breakfast. Grown up… in the office… in green nail polish. It’s such a rush! I’ve been happy and energetic all day.
This little box of polishes appeals so much to the side of me that wants to dye a pink stripe in my hair. I’ve already been working up my courage and may try the pink stripe for my birthday in May (if I don’t chicken out).
When I think about it, though, this little voice says, “you are supposed to be a responsible adult. You’re a stepmom for crying out loud. What will people think when you show up to your stepson's baseball games with pink hair?”
So I’m asking you stepmoms and non-stepmoms alike: What would you think of a grown up woman like me with a pink stripe in her hair?
Does being a stepmom hold you back from any wild and crazy ideas?
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Living in the Moment
I nearly missed some wonderful memories with my stepson simply because I had a plan in my head for how my time would be spent.
Do you ever do that? Have you turned down a game or walked away from spontaneous fun because you had something else you "had" to do?
Remember, our lives are for building memories, not for checking off to do's.
Read more about living in the moment at my Working Mother blog.
Do you ever do that? Have you turned down a game or walked away from spontaneous fun because you had something else you "had" to do?
Remember, our lives are for building memories, not for checking off to do's.
Read more about living in the moment at my Working Mother blog.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Jumping to Conclusions While Reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Story
I just started reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage
. Gilbert is best known for her memoir Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia
, a book I haven't read.When I first heard about Committed I was intrigued. It is a memoir about Gilbert's exploration of marriage, an institution which she and her man had agreed to forego mostly due to both having been through hard divorces in the past. Prior to getting married a second time, I also questioned whether marriage was necessary and what it really means. Given that, I'm curious to read about how Gilbert made peace with marriage and what she learned along the way.
The introduction has already captured my attention with her witty voice. She has set the tone for a great story full of insights on marriage in the Western culture (i.e. we Americans).
Toward the end of the introduction, she lists women whom she considers to be part of her circle. Among them she mentions her stepdaughter. I was inspired by this inclusion. I marveled at their relationship and applauded their closeness. I thought about how wonderful it is that the two of them have crossed such a hard road and come out better for it.
Then I hesitated. How could I infer from one list of names that their relationship was close? For all I know Gilbert included her stepdaughter's name as an olive branch of sorts, in the hopes of forming a bond. Or maybe she felt an obligation to include the name. Of course, it's entirely possible they really are close. I have no way knowing.
It was interesting to me then that my reaction had been to assume that theirs is a positive, loving (if not mutually respectful) relationship. Is that because of my own hope that I am forming a good relationship with my stepson? Or is it because I was jealous of the effortlessness I interpreted therein? Maybe a little of both? 70/30? :)
I am hopeful that close step-relationships are possible. I feel that my stepson and I have taken the right steps toward such a relationship. In fact, I wish it for Gilbert and all other stepfamilies as well.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Infertility and Stress
I’m switching gears a little today to talk about something I haven’t been really public about before.
When my husband and I got married almost two years ago, we were surprised and delighted to find out one month later that I was pregnant. It felt like a sign that we were right where we were meant to be.
Eleven weeks and two ultrasounds in, I miscarried. To make matters worse, my D+C was scheduled on my husband’s birthday. Needless to say no one was feeling celebratory.
It was one of the most horrible times in my life. I slid into depression and cried month after month when my cycle restarted.
I tried to stay positive. I kept thinking my body was just purging the first pregnancy as a natural progression to making way for a stronger pregnancy soon after.
It’s been 17 months since I miscarried and we’ve yet to get pregnant again. It’s still heartbreaking, especially since I dream of being a stay at home mom. Each passing month is still heartbreaking and still brings depression spells. Though sometimes, it brings more of a resigned numbness.
So, why am I mentioning this today? As I sat in the infertility doctor’s office this morning. I was thinking about some of the other stepmom’s writings I’ve read and realized many of them had also mentioned somewhere along the line not having kids of their own despite their best efforts.
I truly believe that stress is a big factor in a couple’s ability to conceive. Miscarriage certainly brings with it plenty of stress. Add to that the adjustment of new stepfamily life, business woes, my in-laws moving in to our home, and most recently the passing of loved ones and I can certainly understand why my body might be rebelling.
I wonder, though, if infertility among stepmothers is prevalent or if I just happen to be connecting with people who’ve had similar experiences.
Is stress a factor in fertility? If so, how do the complexities of stepfamily life weigh in? Perhaps not at all, but that’s what I pondered while waiting far too long in the doctor’s office this morning.
When my husband and I got married almost two years ago, we were surprised and delighted to find out one month later that I was pregnant. It felt like a sign that we were right where we were meant to be.
Eleven weeks and two ultrasounds in, I miscarried. To make matters worse, my D+C was scheduled on my husband’s birthday. Needless to say no one was feeling celebratory.
It was one of the most horrible times in my life. I slid into depression and cried month after month when my cycle restarted.
I tried to stay positive. I kept thinking my body was just purging the first pregnancy as a natural progression to making way for a stronger pregnancy soon after.
It’s been 17 months since I miscarried and we’ve yet to get pregnant again. It’s still heartbreaking, especially since I dream of being a stay at home mom. Each passing month is still heartbreaking and still brings depression spells. Though sometimes, it brings more of a resigned numbness.
So, why am I mentioning this today? As I sat in the infertility doctor’s office this morning. I was thinking about some of the other stepmom’s writings I’ve read and realized many of them had also mentioned somewhere along the line not having kids of their own despite their best efforts.
I truly believe that stress is a big factor in a couple’s ability to conceive. Miscarriage certainly brings with it plenty of stress. Add to that the adjustment of new stepfamily life, business woes, my in-laws moving in to our home, and most recently the passing of loved ones and I can certainly understand why my body might be rebelling.
I wonder, though, if infertility among stepmothers is prevalent or if I just happen to be connecting with people who’ve had similar experiences.
Is stress a factor in fertility? If so, how do the complexities of stepfamily life weigh in? Perhaps not at all, but that’s what I pondered while waiting far too long in the doctor’s office this morning.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Nipping Negativity in the Bud
I'm trying to change how I handle things at home. I realized I had gotten myself to this bad place of thinking "what is it this time?" when dealing with my stepson and even my husband. That kind of negativity only leads to bad outcomes.
Yesterday at work I returned from a meeting to find a missed call from my stepson. In true "what is it this time?" fashion, I thought "don't tell me he's locked out of the house again."
Then I caught myself. How was I to guess the reason for his call? Besides, even if that initial theory proved true, my stepson was probably scared and frustrated. The last thing he would have needed is for me to be cross with him.
So I changed the thought. I put myself in the "what can I do for you?" mindset and gave him a cheerful, "Hey bud. What's up?"
His disappointment carried through the phone line as he replied, "I didn't do well on my math quiz. I left a message for dad, too."
"First," I said, "I'm proud of you for calling to tell us because then we can help you, right?"
"Yes."
I let him know his teacher had sent an email to all the parents saying she had stalled her lesson plan to review the material again today since many of the kids were struggling with it. I hoped that would ease his mind to know it wasn't just him that was having trouble.
Then I continued, "Tonight when I get home, let's go over it together and get you feeling comfortable with it."
He agreed. No fuss, no drama. We went through the questions he got wrong and walked through his work step-by-step to see what happened. It only took 20 minutes for both of us to feel comfortable that he understood it enough to solve the same types of problems in the future.
With the "what can I do for you?" mindset, my hope is that he feels supported rather than feeling like he's in trouble. After all, I'm here to help and show love, not to judge.
Yesterday at work I returned from a meeting to find a missed call from my stepson. In true "what is it this time?" fashion, I thought "don't tell me he's locked out of the house again."
Then I caught myself. How was I to guess the reason for his call? Besides, even if that initial theory proved true, my stepson was probably scared and frustrated. The last thing he would have needed is for me to be cross with him.
So I changed the thought. I put myself in the "what can I do for you?" mindset and gave him a cheerful, "Hey bud. What's up?"
His disappointment carried through the phone line as he replied, "I didn't do well on my math quiz. I left a message for dad, too."
"First," I said, "I'm proud of you for calling to tell us because then we can help you, right?"
"Yes."
I let him know his teacher had sent an email to all the parents saying she had stalled her lesson plan to review the material again today since many of the kids were struggling with it. I hoped that would ease his mind to know it wasn't just him that was having trouble.
Then I continued, "Tonight when I get home, let's go over it together and get you feeling comfortable with it."
He agreed. No fuss, no drama. We went through the questions he got wrong and walked through his work step-by-step to see what happened. It only took 20 minutes for both of us to feel comfortable that he understood it enough to solve the same types of problems in the future.
With the "what can I do for you?" mindset, my hope is that he feels supported rather than feeling like he's in trouble. After all, I'm here to help and show love, not to judge.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Kindness and Not Taking Things Personally
Ask and ye shall receive. Even if the question isn’t seen by everyone, somehow putting it out there prompts a response from the universe.
Before publishing yesterday’s post, I was aware of a call that was happening at The Stepmom’s Toolbox about not taking things so personally. I still haven’t had a chance to listen to the recording, but I plan on saving it to my iPod tonight to listen to during my train ride to Virginia tomorrow.
I can’t wait to listen to it, especially after Stepmum of the Year’s comment yesterday wherein she linked to a post on Café Smom’s blog called, Don’t Take Things So Personally Pledge. Thank you, stepmum, for the link!
In the post, chief smom (as the author calls herself) reflects on the Stepmom’s Toolbox phone call. She says:
Then I read a lovely post by Connie at Dirty Footprints Studio about kindness. Connie is an artist/art teacher/beautiful soul who isn’t afraid to live out loud. Today she talks about what she has learned from teaching, including this:
Finally, I have to say that even with the occasional blips that happen in day-to-day family life, our spontaneous ski trip was soooo worth it. The connection, the time away, the spur-of-the-moment-no-time-to-second-guess nature of it, all of it worked to replenish our souls, which I wrote about at today at Working Mother.
I hope you are all having a fabulous Wednesday. Thank you for listening and responding in kind.
Before publishing yesterday’s post, I was aware of a call that was happening at The Stepmom’s Toolbox about not taking things so personally. I still haven’t had a chance to listen to the recording, but I plan on saving it to my iPod tonight to listen to during my train ride to Virginia tomorrow.
I can’t wait to listen to it, especially after Stepmum of the Year’s comment yesterday wherein she linked to a post on Café Smom’s blog called, Don’t Take Things So Personally Pledge. Thank you, stepmum, for the link!
In the post, chief smom (as the author calls herself) reflects on the Stepmom’s Toolbox phone call. She says:
My greatest takeaway is that I am actually gaining power over my own emotions and life when I give up the power to know everything and control certain situations. When I choose not to take something personally, I am empowering myself to have peace in my heart. What a gift that I can give myself.Whoa. It’s a great mind shift, isn’t it? Choosing not to take something personally, empowers us to have peace in our own heart. I love that. It won’t necessarily be easy to put this into practice, but think how great the rewards will be. Thank you, chief smom, for your insights! I will be joining in your challenge.
Then I read a lovely post by Connie at Dirty Footprints Studio about kindness. Connie is an artist/art teacher/beautiful soul who isn’t afraid to live out loud. Today she talks about what she has learned from teaching, including this:
Letting go of pride and putting my own insecurities aside are great reminders for me. They are things I continue to struggle with as I learn to be comfortable in my own skin as a stepmom, as a wife, and as an individual. As usual, Connie, you are reminding me what life is all about.And teaching has taught me, over and over again,
to be kind.
To just be kind. No matter what. No matter when.
No matter how you have to figure yourself out,
to find the courage-to let go of pride-to turn the other cheek-To put your own insecurities aside.
Finally, I have to say that even with the occasional blips that happen in day-to-day family life, our spontaneous ski trip was soooo worth it. The connection, the time away, the spur-of-the-moment-no-time-to-second-guess nature of it, all of it worked to replenish our souls, which I wrote about at today at Working Mother.
I hope you are all having a fabulous Wednesday. Thank you for listening and responding in kind.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
When the Stepmom Becomes the Teenager
One of my challenges in life is learning not to take offense to things. I think I’m improving, but there are times when I let things get to me rather than taking them for what they are and letting them roll off my back. Often there isn’t any offense intended, so it’s just my own sensitivity getting in my way.
As an example, this weekend my husband, stepson, and I went on a spontaneous ski trip. One morning as we were headed down to breakfast, my stepson was leaving the room without shoes and wearing a knit cap. I asked him to get his shoes and remove his hat. He whined about the hat and said he didn’t want to take it off because he hadn’t brushed his hair. (I think it was probably that he thought the hat looked cool, which it kind of did.)
My husband said, “Does he really need to take it off? This is a ski lodge. There are probably a lot of people down there with hats on.”
Though part of me agreed that he had a good point, the part of me that replied said, “Ok. Overrule me. Whatever,” and I started down the hallway. Real mature.
Sure enough, down at the breakfast buffet, other people were wearing hats. I cringed as soon as I saw it because I knew what was next.
On cue, my stepson said, “See? Lots of people have hats on.”
Grrrrr. I don’t remember now what I said, but I’m sure it was another “whatever.”
In a second I went from being the stepmom to being a temperamental teenager. Yikes. I was so frustrated that I didn’t know how to move on gracefully. Instead I focused on eating my breakfast and quieting my mind. Midway through breakfast, we were all smiling again.
How do you handle your own inner teenager? Do you have tips for (step)parenting with grace?
As an example, this weekend my husband, stepson, and I went on a spontaneous ski trip. One morning as we were headed down to breakfast, my stepson was leaving the room without shoes and wearing a knit cap. I asked him to get his shoes and remove his hat. He whined about the hat and said he didn’t want to take it off because he hadn’t brushed his hair. (I think it was probably that he thought the hat looked cool, which it kind of did.)
My husband said, “Does he really need to take it off? This is a ski lodge. There are probably a lot of people down there with hats on.”
Though part of me agreed that he had a good point, the part of me that replied said, “Ok. Overrule me. Whatever,” and I started down the hallway. Real mature.
Sure enough, down at the breakfast buffet, other people were wearing hats. I cringed as soon as I saw it because I knew what was next.
On cue, my stepson said, “See? Lots of people have hats on.”
Grrrrr. I don’t remember now what I said, but I’m sure it was another “whatever.”
In a second I went from being the stepmom to being a temperamental teenager. Yikes. I was so frustrated that I didn’t know how to move on gracefully. Instead I focused on eating my breakfast and quieting my mind. Midway through breakfast, we were all smiling again.
How do you handle your own inner teenager? Do you have tips for (step)parenting with grace?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Snow Day Phenomenon
There is a strange phenomenon occurring on the east coast. It’s not the snow exactly, although these blizzards are a little out of control. The blizzards also brought with it a day off from school for my stepson and a day of working from home for my husband and me. For some reason we have hit some magic point where it seems to be wreaking havoc on our home.
Find out what happened in my post on Working Mother.
Anyone else dealing with extreme weather?
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Meticulous Mom
My stepson lovingly joked with me that I should be “one of those meticulous moms that keeps everything super organized.”
Though I haven’t perfected this parenthood thing, I do the cooking, the laundry, general tidying up, clean the cat litter, make sure homework, chores, and sports activities happen on time, and tuck the blankets tight at bedtime. Not too shabby.
When I mentioned these things to my stepson he said, “Yeah. Me and dad are lazy bums.”
I laughed and hugged him. Then, I did what any meticulous mom would do: I called dibs on the Xbox.
Though I haven’t perfected this parenthood thing, I do the cooking, the laundry, general tidying up, clean the cat litter, make sure homework, chores, and sports activities happen on time, and tuck the blankets tight at bedtime. Not too shabby.
When I mentioned these things to my stepson he said, “Yeah. Me and dad are lazy bums.”
I laughed and hugged him. Then, I did what any meticulous mom would do: I called dibs on the Xbox.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Overcoming Fear of My Own Family
One thing I learned in January is how important it is to find the good in what feels like an otherwise bad time.
When I lost my grandpa three weeks after losing my dog, all I could think is what next? How much can I take? What is the universe trying to tell me?
What I learned is that my family isn’t as weird as I envisioned and I am not a disappointment. That is a monumentally huge step for me.
Let me explain. I spend a lot of time worrying about other people. I worried about seeing family I haven’t seen a while, mostly about whether they would see me as a failure. A failure for taking too long to finish college, for already having a divorce behind me, for being in a second marriage already (with a stepson), for not going to church every Sunday, for the photo I sent at Christmas time which prompted a letter from my grandpa about having “breasts more modestly covered”- talk about humiliating. It’s an unbelievable amount of baggage I carry to any family meeting.
My family is quite spread out, so I don’t get to see everyone very often. It had been 5 to 10 years since I’d seen some of them. It’s almost like getting together with strangers.
The thing about going to see my family after grandpa’s passing is my mind was more absorbed with shock and grief than it was with worrying about my own insecurities or past “proof” of my ability to disappoint. (It seems almost laughably harsh as I write it now.)
My first stop (with my dad and stepmom) was to my uncle’s house, the one I hadn’t seen in 5 years. Entering their home I immediately felt comfortable. It felt safe. There were no pretenses. My aunt was the strong, welcoming person I remembered. My cousin, who I hadn’t seen in 10 years, was now a full-grown man with quiet sarcasm.
It was my uncle, though, that I really connected with. He was with my grandpa when things took their sudden downturn. Throughout lunch he tearfully explained what happened and what he was thinking every step of the way. Before we left I thanked him for sharing his story and for being with grandpa in his final moments.
At my grandmother’s house were my other uncles, aunt, and half of my cousins. The rest of my cousins, my stepbrother, and my stepsister arrived the next day and for the first time in at least 10 years, all of our family was together in one place.
My mom happened to be visiting my other grandma a few hours away. My two grandmas had been good friends until my one grandma moved. My mom offered to drive up one afternoon (seven hours roundtrip) so that she and grandma could be there for me and my other grandma.
I was touched at that generosity then worried about my parents being in the same room. Would it be awkward? Would my dad’s family want my mom there?
There was nothing to fear. Everyone got along. My mom talked to my aunt and my stepmom for more than an hour while my two grandmas visited. My cousins on my dad’s side talked about how great my grandma on my mom’s side was. It made me wonder what I really thought would happen.
I spent a lot of time with my family in those five days. I talked to all of them. And listened. Really listened.
We found camaraderie. My church-going cousins relayed what clothing had “gotten them in trouble” with grandpa and grandma. It wasn’t just me. There is nothing wrong with me.
We consoled each other. We caught up with each other. We laughed and we cried together.
We communicated in facial expressions and subtle eye movements, a language my husband affectionately named Martin speak. I never thought about it until then, but we all do that. A raised eyebrow from across the room is unmistakable.
One night as we talked, my uncle shared a sentiment he had read during cancer treatment a few years ago. He said, “You can’t stop misery from coming, but you don’t have to give it a chair to sit in.”
That’s exactly what I’ve been doing- letting misery sit and stay. My own worries have kept me down. The things I carry with me as permanent battle wounds can (and should) be shaken off.
It has taken me 32 years, but I realize now what an extraordinary family I have. I am not an outsider, nor am I a disappointment. I am a Martin. We fit just fine.
When I lost my grandpa three weeks after losing my dog, all I could think is what next? How much can I take? What is the universe trying to tell me?
What I learned is that my family isn’t as weird as I envisioned and I am not a disappointment. That is a monumentally huge step for me.
Let me explain. I spend a lot of time worrying about other people. I worried about seeing family I haven’t seen a while, mostly about whether they would see me as a failure. A failure for taking too long to finish college, for already having a divorce behind me, for being in a second marriage already (with a stepson), for not going to church every Sunday, for the photo I sent at Christmas time which prompted a letter from my grandpa about having “breasts more modestly covered”- talk about humiliating. It’s an unbelievable amount of baggage I carry to any family meeting.
My family is quite spread out, so I don’t get to see everyone very often. It had been 5 to 10 years since I’d seen some of them. It’s almost like getting together with strangers.
The thing about going to see my family after grandpa’s passing is my mind was more absorbed with shock and grief than it was with worrying about my own insecurities or past “proof” of my ability to disappoint. (It seems almost laughably harsh as I write it now.)
My first stop (with my dad and stepmom) was to my uncle’s house, the one I hadn’t seen in 5 years. Entering their home I immediately felt comfortable. It felt safe. There were no pretenses. My aunt was the strong, welcoming person I remembered. My cousin, who I hadn’t seen in 10 years, was now a full-grown man with quiet sarcasm.
It was my uncle, though, that I really connected with. He was with my grandpa when things took their sudden downturn. Throughout lunch he tearfully explained what happened and what he was thinking every step of the way. Before we left I thanked him for sharing his story and for being with grandpa in his final moments.
At my grandmother’s house were my other uncles, aunt, and half of my cousins. The rest of my cousins, my stepbrother, and my stepsister arrived the next day and for the first time in at least 10 years, all of our family was together in one place.
My mom happened to be visiting my other grandma a few hours away. My two grandmas had been good friends until my one grandma moved. My mom offered to drive up one afternoon (seven hours roundtrip) so that she and grandma could be there for me and my other grandma.
I was touched at that generosity then worried about my parents being in the same room. Would it be awkward? Would my dad’s family want my mom there?
There was nothing to fear. Everyone got along. My mom talked to my aunt and my stepmom for more than an hour while my two grandmas visited. My cousins on my dad’s side talked about how great my grandma on my mom’s side was. It made me wonder what I really thought would happen.
I spent a lot of time with my family in those five days. I talked to all of them. And listened. Really listened.
We found camaraderie. My church-going cousins relayed what clothing had “gotten them in trouble” with grandpa and grandma. It wasn’t just me. There is nothing wrong with me.
We consoled each other. We caught up with each other. We laughed and we cried together.
We communicated in facial expressions and subtle eye movements, a language my husband affectionately named Martin speak. I never thought about it until then, but we all do that. A raised eyebrow from across the room is unmistakable.
One night as we talked, my uncle shared a sentiment he had read during cancer treatment a few years ago. He said, “You can’t stop misery from coming, but you don’t have to give it a chair to sit in.”
That’s exactly what I’ve been doing- letting misery sit and stay. My own worries have kept me down. The things I carry with me as permanent battle wounds can (and should) be shaken off.
It has taken me 32 years, but I realize now what an extraordinary family I have. I am not an outsider, nor am I a disappointment. I am a Martin. We fit just fine.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Saying Goodbye to Grandpa
Just when I thought I was fitting back into my day-to-day routine, life threw me another whammy.
My grandpa died last week. It was a complete shock because he hadn't been having any serious health issues. I'm still stunned and finding it hard to believe he is gone.
Grandpa was still really active. He just turned 86, yet he had recently been helping a new neighbor with some home renovations. He had fixed the church organ which hadn't worked in years. The church thought it was a lost cause, but grandpa spent many hours taking it apart and reconstructing it until it played better than ever. He was singing in the church choir and standing at the door to greet the congregation every Sunday. He worked and he gave until the very end.
Last Wednesday he was helping my uncle with a project. He was fine one minute and the next minute he sat down on the garage floor saying he wasn't feeling well. My uncle took him to the hospital right away. From there, he was transferred to another hospital for tests. The next morning he was being helicoptered to a heart hospital for emergency surgery on an aortic aneurism. A few hours after surgery he died.
I'm heartbroken. He was a wonderful, funny, and kind man. He and my grandma just celebrated their 63rd anniversary. That kind of love doesn't happen often, but it happened for them.
I remember visiting them every summer when I was growing up. When I was still in elementary school, I slept in a little side bed in my grandparents room. One visit in particular my grandma snored the whole night and I asked my grandpa the next day how he could sleep with all of that snoring. He said, "Well, I kind of like it. It lets me know grandma is still with us."
Grandpa always had an answer for everything and that one has stuck with me for 25 years now.
I had just taken my husband and stepson to meet my grandparents last summer. I'm so glad that we made that trip. If we hadn't, they never would have seen his big, goofy smile and witness grandpa's love for his family.
My grandpa was a devout baptist. He loved his family and he loved his church. I have no doubts that he made it to those pearly gates.
I miss him.
My grandpa died last week. It was a complete shock because he hadn't been having any serious health issues. I'm still stunned and finding it hard to believe he is gone.
Grandpa was still really active. He just turned 86, yet he had recently been helping a new neighbor with some home renovations. He had fixed the church organ which hadn't worked in years. The church thought it was a lost cause, but grandpa spent many hours taking it apart and reconstructing it until it played better than ever. He was singing in the church choir and standing at the door to greet the congregation every Sunday. He worked and he gave until the very end.
Last Wednesday he was helping my uncle with a project. He was fine one minute and the next minute he sat down on the garage floor saying he wasn't feeling well. My uncle took him to the hospital right away. From there, he was transferred to another hospital for tests. The next morning he was being helicoptered to a heart hospital for emergency surgery on an aortic aneurism. A few hours after surgery he died.
I'm heartbroken. He was a wonderful, funny, and kind man. He and my grandma just celebrated their 63rd anniversary. That kind of love doesn't happen often, but it happened for them.
I remember visiting them every summer when I was growing up. When I was still in elementary school, I slept in a little side bed in my grandparents room. One visit in particular my grandma snored the whole night and I asked my grandpa the next day how he could sleep with all of that snoring. He said, "Well, I kind of like it. It lets me know grandma is still with us."
Grandpa always had an answer for everything and that one has stuck with me for 25 years now.
I had just taken my husband and stepson to meet my grandparents last summer. I'm so glad that we made that trip. If we hadn't, they never would have seen his big, goofy smile and witness grandpa's love for his family.
My grandpa was a devout baptist. He loved his family and he loved his church. I have no doubts that he made it to those pearly gates.
I miss him.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Third Grade Journal (Another Working Mother Wednesday... plus some)
It's amazing what you come across when you're cleaning the house. Like really cleaning. My husband and I found my stepson's journal from third grade. One of those black and white marble composition notebooks with a weekly assignment from the teacher.
Oh the things we learned! For instance, if my stepson were to be a superhero (circa 2005), it wouldn't have been Superman, Batman, or any of the Justice League figures that adorned his bedroom. It wouldn't have been his current favorite, The Incredible Hulk. He would have been a "huge sgure bunny rabbit thing." We think "sgure" translates to "square."
It's a useful thing to be actually. As he explained it, "I could jump relly far. Also I could ram a lot of stuff." So there you have it.
What would he have done with $50,000? Buy Toys R Us. Brilliant!
This third grade version of my stepson didn't just have a good imagination, he also had good sense. See what I mean by reading his fire safety tips over at the Working Mother Mom Blog.
What do your (step)kids have to say? What superhero would they be? What would they do with $50,000? Are they up to speed on fire safety?
Oh the things we learned! For instance, if my stepson were to be a superhero (circa 2005), it wouldn't have been Superman, Batman, or any of the Justice League figures that adorned his bedroom. It wouldn't have been his current favorite, The Incredible Hulk. He would have been a "huge sgure bunny rabbit thing." We think "sgure" translates to "square."
It's a useful thing to be actually. As he explained it, "I could jump relly far. Also I could ram a lot of stuff." So there you have it.
What would he have done with $50,000? Buy Toys R Us. Brilliant!
This third grade version of my stepson didn't just have a good imagination, he also had good sense. See what I mean by reading his fire safety tips over at the Working Mother Mom Blog.
What do your (step)kids have to say? What superhero would they be? What would they do with $50,000? Are they up to speed on fire safety?
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Answering the Sibling Question
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” It sounds like an easy enough question. Most people answer it pretty quickly talking about their older brother or how they were the youngest of three.
Inside I’m usually answering something like this: “No. Well, maybe. Two, in fact. Yes, two. Or five? It’s complicated. Can you please define brothers and sisters?” Out loud the answer may not be much different.
For some reason, this question has come up several times for me recently and I’m always at a loss on how to answer. Saying “I was an only child” is an option, even if I’m not an only child now. Or maybe I am since my siblings aren’t blood relations and I never lived with them.
And if you count step-siblings, how do you know which ones to count? Do you include the ones you haven’t met? Maybe you count only the step-siblings you grew up with? Only the ones you’re friends with on Facebook?
Let me explain my confusion. I was an only child, right up until I turned 19 and my mom remarried. Her husband has three sons. The youngest one is about my age and I met him at my mother’s wedding and a few times thereafter. I met the middle son once over lunch. The oldest one, I’m told, is in prison and I’ve been content to keep myself out of those conversations. I’ve never met him and it sounds like he’s probably not a nice person anyway.
When I was 22, my dad got remarried to a woman with two kids, both of whom were in elementary school at the time. My step-brother is now a junior in high school and my step-sister is a sophomore in college. I see them a couple times a year when I visit my family. They’re very nice.
In answer to the dreaded sibling question, usually I end up saying that I have a stepbrother and a stepsister. Of course, that sounds a little clunky because of repeating “step” for both. I figure I don’t see my other stepbrothers, so I just don’t count them. If I’m met with a confused stare, I usually explain that it’s the new math and very confusing.
How do we explain our families in today’s complex world? I don’t know… “Next question, please.”
Does anyone else have complicated answers to simple questions? How do you handle them?
Inside I’m usually answering something like this: “No. Well, maybe. Two, in fact. Yes, two. Or five? It’s complicated. Can you please define brothers and sisters?” Out loud the answer may not be much different.
For some reason, this question has come up several times for me recently and I’m always at a loss on how to answer. Saying “I was an only child” is an option, even if I’m not an only child now. Or maybe I am since my siblings aren’t blood relations and I never lived with them.
And if you count step-siblings, how do you know which ones to count? Do you include the ones you haven’t met? Maybe you count only the step-siblings you grew up with? Only the ones you’re friends with on Facebook?
Let me explain my confusion. I was an only child, right up until I turned 19 and my mom remarried. Her husband has three sons. The youngest one is about my age and I met him at my mother’s wedding and a few times thereafter. I met the middle son once over lunch. The oldest one, I’m told, is in prison and I’ve been content to keep myself out of those conversations. I’ve never met him and it sounds like he’s probably not a nice person anyway.
When I was 22, my dad got remarried to a woman with two kids, both of whom were in elementary school at the time. My step-brother is now a junior in high school and my step-sister is a sophomore in college. I see them a couple times a year when I visit my family. They’re very nice.
In answer to the dreaded sibling question, usually I end up saying that I have a stepbrother and a stepsister. Of course, that sounds a little clunky because of repeating “step” for both. I figure I don’t see my other stepbrothers, so I just don’t count them. If I’m met with a confused stare, I usually explain that it’s the new math and very confusing.
How do we explain our families in today’s complex world? I don’t know… “Next question, please.”
Does anyone else have complicated answers to simple questions? How do you handle them?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Working Mother Wednesday: My Wishes for 2010
Two posts today! I'm on a roll.
My Working Mother Mom Blog got a bit of a break over the last two weeks. No more! I'm ready to get back to routine.
This week I talked about my wishes for my family in 2010: what I wish for me and my husband, what I wish for me and my stepson, what I wish for all three of us. It was way more exciting to dream those types of plans than to pretend I'm going to exercise more.
Read it here: My Wishes for 2010. And, tell me... what do you wish for your family this year?
My Working Mother Mom Blog got a bit of a break over the last two weeks. No more! I'm ready to get back to routine.
This week I talked about my wishes for my family in 2010: what I wish for me and my husband, what I wish for me and my stepson, what I wish for all three of us. It was way more exciting to dream those types of plans than to pretend I'm going to exercise more.
Read it here: My Wishes for 2010. And, tell me... what do you wish for your family this year?
Changing the Thought
Last night my commute home stretched 40 minutes longer than its usual 2 hours. It was 8:00 p.m. when I pulled into my driveway and all of my built up stress began to boil over when I saw the garbage cans still sitting by the garage.
Sometimes I feel my stress turning into anger/sadness/frustration when I don’t even want to be angry/sad/frustrated over the situation. Does that make sense? Do you ever feel that way?
You see, it was garbage night- the night when my stepson is supposed to put the cans out by the street for an early morning pick-up. Like the rest of us humans, he resists the work he doesn’t want to do. More than that, he’s 12 which means, unlike adults who begrudgingly do the crappy chores anyway because we have to, he sometimes doesn’t give them a second thought.
My mind immediately turned this into something bad that I had to do. Not that I had to take out the garbage, it was that I had to go in after a long day and gripe and push and prod to get a stupid little chore done. I don't want to do that.
But as I got out of my car it dawned on me- I didn’t have to go in and immediately harp on my stepson about the garbage. Who says I have to do that? I tried to change the thought (a little trick I learned from Deb Owen’s Creative Pathways course).
I took a deep breath and decided to haul out some of the garbage myself. There was enough there that it would have been overwhelming for my stepson to do by himself, anyway. I left the last little bit so he could still get a star on his chore board for the night and, therefore, get paid for it at the end of the week.
With a milder mindset, I walked in to the house, called out “hello,” and put my stuff down. My husband came running to hug me (I love that!) and my stepson said, “Sherri, I need help with my math homework.”
I whimpered inside with all kinds of comebacks swirling in my head. Again, rather than lash out or speak any of those awful thoughts, I breathed. I looked at my husband and calmly asked, “Will you please let him know I just walked in, I haven’t yet taken off my coat, and I’m not ready.” Then I hung up my coat and sunk onto the couch for a few minutes.
My husband did one better. He helped my stepson with his homework. My mind quieted.
While looking at the math problem he said, “Your dinner is on a plate in the refrigerator with foil on it.” (My in-laws have taken up cooking dinner on the two days a week I commute to New York- yay!) I felt my body relax a little.
As I walked into the kitchen I found my stepson already pulling the foil off and heading to the microwave. I was surprised and felt my body relax a little more.
When I set the timer on the microwave, my stepson was back at the refrigerator asking what I wanted to drink. I could have cried happy tears from the weight being lifted from my shoulders. By the time I finished eating, I was feeling calm and cared for. Almost ready to face the world again.
Once homework was complete, I nicely asked my stepson to please take the garbage out to the street. I let him know there was only one can left. He asked, “Did you take some already?” I detected hope in his voice. Who knows? Maybe he was relieved to have some help, too.
Sometimes the universe (or your family) gives you exactly what you need. I am so grateful for that… and them.
And to my mind who tried to take me to a dark, mean place, I have this to say: I’m not afraid of you. I won’t let you bring me down.
Sometimes I feel my stress turning into anger/sadness/frustration when I don’t even want to be angry/sad/frustrated over the situation. Does that make sense? Do you ever feel that way?
You see, it was garbage night- the night when my stepson is supposed to put the cans out by the street for an early morning pick-up. Like the rest of us humans, he resists the work he doesn’t want to do. More than that, he’s 12 which means, unlike adults who begrudgingly do the crappy chores anyway because we have to, he sometimes doesn’t give them a second thought.
My mind immediately turned this into something bad that I had to do. Not that I had to take out the garbage, it was that I had to go in after a long day and gripe and push and prod to get a stupid little chore done. I don't want to do that.
But as I got out of my car it dawned on me- I didn’t have to go in and immediately harp on my stepson about the garbage. Who says I have to do that? I tried to change the thought (a little trick I learned from Deb Owen’s Creative Pathways course).
I took a deep breath and decided to haul out some of the garbage myself. There was enough there that it would have been overwhelming for my stepson to do by himself, anyway. I left the last little bit so he could still get a star on his chore board for the night and, therefore, get paid for it at the end of the week.
With a milder mindset, I walked in to the house, called out “hello,” and put my stuff down. My husband came running to hug me (I love that!) and my stepson said, “Sherri, I need help with my math homework.”
I whimpered inside with all kinds of comebacks swirling in my head. Again, rather than lash out or speak any of those awful thoughts, I breathed. I looked at my husband and calmly asked, “Will you please let him know I just walked in, I haven’t yet taken off my coat, and I’m not ready.” Then I hung up my coat and sunk onto the couch for a few minutes.
My husband did one better. He helped my stepson with his homework. My mind quieted.
While looking at the math problem he said, “Your dinner is on a plate in the refrigerator with foil on it.” (My in-laws have taken up cooking dinner on the two days a week I commute to New York- yay!) I felt my body relax a little.
As I walked into the kitchen I found my stepson already pulling the foil off and heading to the microwave. I was surprised and felt my body relax a little more.
When I set the timer on the microwave, my stepson was back at the refrigerator asking what I wanted to drink. I could have cried happy tears from the weight being lifted from my shoulders. By the time I finished eating, I was feeling calm and cared for. Almost ready to face the world again.
Once homework was complete, I nicely asked my stepson to please take the garbage out to the street. I let him know there was only one can left. He asked, “Did you take some already?” I detected hope in his voice. Who knows? Maybe he was relieved to have some help, too.
Sometimes the universe (or your family) gives you exactly what you need. I am so grateful for that… and them.
And to my mind who tried to take me to a dark, mean place, I have this to say: I’m not afraid of you. I won’t let you bring me down.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Rough Holiday Break and Bonus Mom Badge
With the way 2009 drew to a close and the way 2010 has started, I’m feeling full. During the holiday break alone, the van battery died, my stepson’s allergy to red dye returned with a vengeance, my husband’s “indestructible” tungsten wedding band broke (again), my dog fell ill, and yesterday my car battery died. No more, please.
While I’m not a regular church attendee these days, I remember from my childhood that God doesn’t throw you more than you can handle. He and I must disagree about how much I can handle. If everything happens for a reason, I hope I learn this lesson soon.
Anyhow, as I shuffled around the internet last night awaiting inspiration to strike, I found The Dawson Family blog. Yesterday’s post was written by a lovely fellow Bonus Mom. As I read it, I was surprised and humbled to see she had bestowed upon Too Many Toasters the Bonus Mom Badge. This kind gesture was just the boost I needed.
It’s funny because even though I call myself a stepmom, my stepson refers to me as his bonus mom. What a great title. Thank you Dawson Family! My blog will wear this badge with honor.
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