Mom/Stepmom Relationship

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?

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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?

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?

Too Many Toasters

I am part of a stepfamily. Technically I guess I'm part of three stepfamilies. Whatever the case, merging families is a complex task involving the "blending" of three P's: people, personalities, and possessions.

When my husband and I took the gigantic step of moving in together, it was I that moved in to his home.  My one bedroom apartment wasn't going to fit all three P's and his house was two minutes from his 9-year-old son's school. Instant household.

We spent the following weeks taking inventory of our possessions. The extra bedroom set became guest room furniture. The extra glassware made for a well-rounded collection. The toasters, well, there were two and how many toasters does one house really need?

As I pulled my toaster from the box my (now) husband said, "I guess we can get rid of that."

What? Get rid of my toaster?

There's nothing like merging households to make you really sentimental about a toaster.  After all, it was the toaster I bought following my previous divorce.  It was the kitchen appliance staple that I picked out all by myself for my own place.  It wasn't fancy.  In fact, it's most endearing quality was it's low price tag.  But it was mine and it symbolized my ability to take care of myself.

My husband also loved his toaster.  It was stainless steel and, therefore, matched all his other appliances unlike my stark white model.  It had a special button for frozen items to properly toast them.  Even I had to admit it looked sleeker and was more functional.

After many gentle reassurances (my husband to me and I to my toaster) I decided it was time to donate my toaster and let someone else love it's thrifty simplicity.  It was an unexpectedly monumental step in our relationship.

Some time later, while visiting my dad, I realized a toaster oven adorned his counter.  I've never known my dad to own a toaster oven.  I couldn't help but wonder if there had been a similar debate between him and my stepmother about which toaster to keep.

By now you probably noticed I am both a stepmom and a stepchild.  Here's a quick run-down.  My family consists of a husband, a stepson, a father, a stepmother, a mother who was adopted, a stepfather, and two (or is it five?) step-siblings.

Thus begins Too Many Toasters, a blog to share my experiences with non-traditional families and, hopefully, hear about your experiences as well.  I plan on writing here once a week (or more if I have time), so please stay tuned.

You are invited and encouraged to share your experiences and thoughts in the comments.  Do you have a confusing family?  How do you navigate the stepfamilyhood?