Me & The Kid

Sharon asked, a while back, how things with my stepson have been. It's a tricky question to answer.
The Kid is angry at his mother's disregard for him because of her new pregnancy. He is angry that she is pregnant because he doesn't feel she deserves to have more children. He is angry that his father and I continue to lose pregnancies because he never felt like he was being replaced when we were pregnant (looking back, he was actually excited).
Of course, the compassionate side of my wants to hug him until his head pops off. Tell him is will always be loved, never replaced, always important. Let him know how important he is to me because he might be the only child I ever get a hand in raising.
But, the weird new side of me born out of this weird new stage in my life doesn't want him around. It hurts to look at the accidental product of a terrible relationship, knowing that a much desired child from a loving relationship can't make it past 3 months gestation.
It's a true roller coaster: knowing ours is the home he feels most comfortable in and wanting to give him the comfort he deserves, and facing the pain that his presence brings to our home when he's in it (but only to me, as my husband is happy with the extra time).
On top of that, he's a teenage boy. He smells (despite frequent showering), he's moody, he's overly emotional, and he's rude. He eats me out of house and home (seriously - who makes a sandwich with an entire pound of sliced turkey?!), he is never where he is supposed to be, and he's struggling in school. Typical teenage stuff.
He's really good about not talking about the new baby, probably because he sees me lose my shit over much less and he likes having other things be the topics of conversation.
What I struggle the most with is when people say, "Well, it's only three more years." I don't want to be spending the next three years just wishing that each day will fly by so these three years will be over. I don't want to wish away part of my life. What a waste.
And I know, based on my conversations with seasoned stepmoms, that The Kid turning 18 is not a magical time of transformation. The Ex doesn't turn into a pile of dust, I won't necessarily have the children I so desire, we won't be financially liberated. Nothing will really change when he turns 18 except his legal status.
In the now, I try to react based not on my emotions but rather on what the situation dictates. But I don't always succeed and I definitely lash out. Which means I spend a lot of time quiet, and a lot of time in my room.
I think that most days he sees me as a meal ticket and a ride to where he wants to go and I see him an an annoyance, but our relationship is still hanging on.
He calls his mom "Hitler" instead of mom, so I think the fact that I'm still referred to by name is a good sign, anyway.

Or, Not...

I was at a party on New Years Eve, a really fun party. I needed it! But that's beside the point.
I met a lot of new people at this party. I always enjoy meeting new people, introducing the me that they will know without preconceived notions.
I was talking to this one girl about life in general when she started talking about her son's stepmom. Instantly, I was on edge. She had no idea that I am a stepmom, that we have a high-conflict situation or, really, anything about my life. But, to my shock, she was raving about her ex's girlfriend.
"Oh, I just love her. She's great. And I want my son to have a close relationship with his siblings, so we communicate really well."
What the what? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A mom who loves her kid's stepmom? And always has? I was so encouraged that I had to learn more.
"Well, she just had a baby and my son is really excited to be a big brother. And a little brother. She has two older kids too."
"Oh, he's close with his stepsiblings?" I ask. "That's great!"
"Oh, they aren't his stepsiblings. They are his half-siblings."
What?
"I was the other woman. He was cheating on her with me and I got pregnant. Then he got back with her and they had another baby."
I thought I had finally met a pioneer in the mom/stepmom relationship field.
But, not really.
I'm still encouraged that she models a positive relationship with her son's stepmom, but I can't help but think that some of that might have to do with being a cheat-ee. There's a level of guilt there, and maybe even a level of pride, that changes the situation a bit. Plus, she never told me how the stepmom felt about her. When I got around that that question, she was suddenly distracted by a big plate of cookies.
Thoughts?

Oh, and Happy 2011!!!

Advice I Wish I Had Listened To

The lovely and brilliant Erin over at the Erin Experiment wrote a post this weekend that really resonated with me.
Though it was a tremendous learning experience for all aspects of my life, 2010 also proved to be a tremendous pile of shit. For a while, I didn't think I could make it. I felt that the life I am currently living was sucking me dry. But here I am, still standing. And, (I think?) a better person for it.
This advice is stuff I probably would never had listened to had I not truly needed it. Even if you think this list doesn't apply to you, keep it in mind. Because someday, you just might need it.

Another One Bites the Dust

Sigh.
Miscarriage #2 is in progress. Two pregnancies and two losses in 4 months. I promise this isn't becoming a pregnancy blog. Or fertility-struggle blog. It's just the story of a girl who sacrificed everything for a kid that wasn't hers and then couldn't have kids of her own. I know there's lots of you out there.
I really think there is little out there that can make you hate being a stepparent more than repeatedly losing your own pregnancies. Not a hostile, selfish, destructive, money-sucking ex. Not a slovenly, ungrateful teenage stepchild.
This girl is doing what she does best and looking to relocate. This may or may not entail The Husband coming with me. This, of course, does not mean we'll divorce. I just know he won't leave where we live, and I'm looking to move internationally for grad school. It would only be a couple of years. This is something I have been tossing around for a long, long while. Long before I even met him. And though marriage requires compromise, I have been consistently held back by the man that I love. I feel like I have compromised an awful lot for him over the past seven years and I'm ready to live my life again, to better my life, to do the things I've put on the back-burner because I was cleaning up someone else's mess. I know it sounds weird, but I'm excited for the opportunity this loss has presented me with.
Again, thank you for all the positive vibes you sent my way, you have no idea how much they were appreciated. Now, it's time to focus on getting through the holidays. Hey, at least now I can have a drink, right?

Long Time No Blog

Honestly, I just haven't had the energy to devote any time to this weblog lately. When I started writing, this place was the best area for me to vent my frustrations and share my joys.
But lately, I have felt nothing but frustration. And I don't think it's fair to only share frustration.
In a nutshell, my life has been completely turned upside down.
I've still been the primary caregiver for The Kid (a la my last post). But there's more to that.....
The Kid threatened suicide to a friend at school. After much hullabaloo, he's now in counseling and living with us full-time. He seems to be doing better, and we're doing everything we can to be supportive.
We have also been having some serious problems with our house (we are renters - buying at coastal New England prices isn't in the cards for us right now) which may force us to move right smack in the middle of the holidays. Awesome.
Oh, and I'm pregnant again. But please, no congratulations (however, do go give some hearty congrats to Life of a Stepmama who is due just two days after me!). Though we saw a heartbeat at our first scan, the embryo is measuring very very small, and we were given a 50% chance that it would stick around. I go back in one week to see if it has grown or if I'll need to schedule another D&C. If this one doesn't stick, I'm back on birth control. I really can't do this anymore. Especially not with The Kid walking around as a reminder that is, in fact, me who is the problem.
I am mentally and physically exhausted, so of course interacting here on the interweb has been furthest from my mind. Please know that even if I haven't been commenting, I have been reading and you are all in my thoughts.

Tomorrow, Shmoo-morrow

Remember how I ended my last post..."but more on that tomorrow?"
The that in the situation being backing away from my stepmom role and living my own life?
Hahahahaha.
Oh. The irony.
That night, I left work and went to the gym. After my workout, I checked my phone and had three missed calls from The Husband. I called him back and he answers, "Hey, when are you going to be home?"
"I'm on my way, why?"
"Well, I'm going to be working late tonight so I need you home with The Kid."
*silence*
"Hello?"
"I'll be home in 10 minutes," I grunted.
I wasn't angry, per se, I just wasn't told he was working late and was completely unprepared to devote all my energy to The Kid. Feeding him my "gross food." Chasing him around to get his homework done and take a shower. Sitting with him until bedtime because he cannot seem to entertain himself. Arguing with him to go to bed. I was a bit frustrated.
What happened to this new proclamation that I was going to have a life again?! Of course I would help out this one night, though.
It turned to anger when my husband informed me that he would be working late every night for the next 6 weeks. I don't care how late he works when we don't have The Kid - we need the money, especially with Christmas approaching. I was angry that he scheduled all of this extra work on nights we had The Kid without even asking me if I was busy or willing to pick up his parenting slack.
My best friend was coming back from a year away on one of those nights and I have been dying to see her. Now I couldn't because I had to be a "parent." I couldn't follow through with most of the plans I made that week because The Husband failed to inform me of my newly-minted duties.
Not much more than one year ago, I wasn't allowed to drive The Kid anywhere in case his mother saw me with him. Then she got a boyfriend-turned-fiance, and, though she still won't talk to me, I can do whatever I want with The Kid so long as she gets to be with her boyfriend. Suddenly, I'm spending more time with this kid then either of his parents. Not fair!
I told The Husband that since his court ordered visitation is only Saturdays from 10am to 4 pm (The Ex has sole custody, but we usually take 50/50 physical custody now that she has a distraction boyfriend) that until this work streak was over, the primary custodian could take care of her child and we would take weekends.
He said no.
We didn't speak for three days.
Needless to say, by the next day the post about my new-found freedom was bunk. And, I was too busy carting The Kid around to his various activities to post. Then, this weekend I got sick.
And so, here I am.
Getting ready to pick up The Kid from school because mom is off with her boyfriend and dad is working. Did I mention I'm working too? Rearranging my hours to drop him off/pick him up/get him to lessons and friends houses etc. I'm exhausted.
Don't get me wrong, I love getting some one-on-one time with The Kid, but this was a bit much. And it not being something we agreed to, I was, well, livid when I found out that the next six weeks had been decided for me.
Of course we won't be changing any parenting time throughout this ordeal. I've convinced myself it's better for The Kid to be with us.
But after this next 6 weeks, we have some major reevaluating to do.

A Break

I have needed a break from life lately. Suddenly, out of the blue, I became overwhelmed with everything. I may have even been slightly depressed. Crying all the time. Angry. Exhausted. Late for work every day (then getting there and not doing anything).
I actually entertained taking a job across the country and moving there. Alone. In fact, I interviewed for it. But, I then declined the second interview when I realized that I am probably just running away from my problems and not thinking clearly. Negativity took over my life for about three weeks.
So, naturally, updating this blog was the furthest thing from my mind.
I think what happened was this: I had this need to show everyone how strong I was after I lost the pregnancy. "Look at me! I'm doing just fine! Solid as a rock!" (My Dad calls me Kid Rock because, in most circumstances, I am the one with her head squarely on her shoulders, making sure everyone else is okay.)
But really, I was completely withered inside. My hopes and dreams were crushed, ripped away from me. I was really, really sad (and I still am). And The Husband doesn't ever want to talk about it because talking about it makes him sad.
Mostly, I am consumed by worry. Worry that something is wrong with me and I'll never have children. Worry that my grandparents (yes, I still have a living set of grandparents!) won't ever get to meet a great-grandchild. Worry that I'll never feel like a real part of this family because I'll always be outnumbered. It's probably all normal, but trying to push it away instead of acknowledging it was a bad idea.
Alas, I seem to have finally snapped myself out of this funk. Oh, I'm sure I'll still have my days. But overall, I feel better. Coincidentally, this happened at the same time I backed waythefuckoff of my stepmomming responsibilities and decided to live my life again. But more on that tomorrow.
Thanks again for all your kind comments and emails. And sorry for the overuse of italics in this post!

Miscarriage and Stepfamilies

I am now nearly one month out of my pregnancy loss experience. I think the first couple of weeks I was more in shock than anything else. The reality of the situation is truly hitting me now, and more than anything I just want to still be pregnant. I know it's normal to feel sad and I'm letting myself feel these emotions. I just thought the further away I got from that terrible weekend the less it would hurt.
I have made a few stepmom mistakes in dealing with this situation, and I thought I should share them here.
My first mistake is assuming my husband doesn't hurt as much as I do because he already has a child. I know women generally have a greater physiological connection to the pregnancy than men and therefore generally grieve more. And, most guys just don't talk about their feelings as much. As in, my husband never ever talks about the loss he feels. Not once, except when we had our last ultrasound and saw no heartbeat. In our case, where I have no children and he has one with someone else I can't imagine him being as heartbroken. He still gets to be a dad. He has a child to hold on to extra tight. And I have nothing. I haven't exactly verbalized this to The Husband, but he can sense it. The other day he said to me, "Just because I don't talk about it doesn't mean I don't care. And just because I already have a kid doesn't mean this doesn't break my heart. I accidentally made a baby with a person I now hate. I love my son but I hate the situation. For three months I had a taste of what it was like to purposefully make a baby with someone you love, to look forward to every moment with that child knowing I would always be recognized as its father. A little being that was half me and half the person I love most in the world was coming in to our lives. We were going to be parents, and do it the right way. My heart is just as broken." I hadn't really thought of it that way. Honestly, I still don't think he does feel the loss like I do. And maybe I'm wrong. But I do know he feels it as deeply and that we've got to work through this together.
Second, I simply assumed that The Kid was over and done with the situation because he's been back to his regular ol' teenage self. He was sad for one day and then was demanding new video games, shirking his chores and mouthing off. I never ever thought that he might feel the loss just as deeply. Plain and simple, he feels like he lost a sibling. I didn't think he would feel that way. As we were packing up to leave for our weekend away, he got very quiet and broody. He came and sat down next to me and said, "Well, you know what the good thing is..." cue looking up at me with glassy eyes, "Well there is no good thing about me losing a sibling," long awkward silence, "But at least you can come on the waterslides with us now." We went to a water park one day and had previously been joking about how the only thing I could do there was float on the lazy river, since waterslides are a no-no for pregnant women. He was bummed because he enjoys my murderous screams on the steep slides, but understood. I think he was looking for a silver lining. We didn't have a name, there was no baby to see, we didn't know if it was going to be a girl or a boy but The Kid will always remember this potential baby as his sibling. I was both touched and heartbroken to hear this.
And lastly (or, lastly that I recognize) I have seen The Kid as a walking reminder of my failure. I have pulled away from him a bit. His little quirks are making me more angry then they previously have. I'm complaining to my husband about his issues more. I am more dismissive if he is difficult. I don't love him any less. I just don't really want him around so much. Just like most women who miscarry might hate the sight of pregnant women and babies for a while (which, oddly, is not the case for me), most of what I see when The Kid is over is the unfairness of the situation. His presence reminds me of what she could do, that I couldn't do. And it hurts. This is something I am working through on my own, and that I honestly feel is normal. Meanwhile, I'm trying to distance myself when I get angry so that I don't snap and remember that this is something we are experiencing as a family and it is not my own private pain.
I write this here because, although there are a bajillion miscarriage resources out there, I have been hard-pressed to find anything out there that takes into account the unique dynamics of pregnancy loss in a second marriage/stepfamily situation. Maybe these little ramblings will be of use to someone else someday, make them feel less like a failure, more normal.
And in the meantime, we chug along and wait to try again.

Big News

Back in April, I wrote this post about how my experience as a stepmom has helped me decide that I would like to be a mother to my own children. Your comments really meant a lot to me in that post, and led to many discussions with The Husband about what we felt was the right time for us. He has always been of the camp that we will make it work, whenever it happens. My Type A personality leads me to think of all the practical, and not-so-practical, issues involved in such a life change.
I have had this nagging feeling that now is the time, despite the fact that I'm young and, statistically, have "plenty of time." Maybe it's my biological clock ticking, or maybe it's something greater. I don't know.
But I do know that yesterday I saw a tiny heart beating on an ultrasound machine. Yesterday, I saw with my own eyes that I am now a mom.
Whoa.
Aside from my husband, three of my best friends, two co-workers (who I had to tell because of the nature of my job) and my brother, who deduced it by himself, you (yes, you, the entire interweb!) are the only ones I have told. Erring on the side of caution, we're waiting to spread the news to our friends and family until we're a bit further along. I figured I could share on this venue because the support you all offer me is unparalleled and I would want (and need) that same support if anything were to go wrong.
Stepfamily-wise, we won't be telling The Kid until the end of August. I'm very nervous about his reaction and really hoping that he takes it well. I'm also really hoping that his mother doesn't try to put a negative spin on the situation. And that she doesn't use this as an excuse to go batshit crazy again.
So I apologize for the lack of updates, but I've been completely wiped and a bit overwhelmed. Once work calms down I'll have more time to catch up, because, boy, do I have a lot of catching up to do!

One Family Born From Two

This story was on NPR today. Brief, sugar coated and tied up with a bow.
Overall the message is positive, but I tend to think one of the only reasons this story worked out so nicely is because her husband's first wife was dead.
What do you think?

The Heart of the Universe

One of my core beliefs is that family is the heart of the universe - however it is constructed, whether through a blood connection, a spiritual connection or an emotional connection. I have been taught this from a very young age through the example of my own family.
We'll take in anyone. Holiday festivities include my grandparent's widowed friends, my single friends with no family, our friends whose family lives far away, people who have no other place to go. None of these people ever feel like an outsider, and we're always happy to have them. Come what may, nothing is more important to me than this.

***

When I was younger I said I never wanted to get married.. As I entered my late twenties, I started really examining that claim. Why didn't I want to get married? I realized it was all trivial, and that in order to fully experience this life I should give it a whirl. Of course, it helps that I met a wonderful partner, the yin to my yang. So married we were. It's no 1950s sitcom relationship, but the whole experience of it, the ups and the downs, is a good one. I'm so glad we did it.
Similarly, I've always waffled between having children and remaining childfree. Of course, that all changed when I inherited a stepchild. I love every minute of watching The Kid experience the world. I love teaching him. I love exploring with him. I love him.
And, I love what I have learned about myself from him. I didn't know I was capable of so much patience, I didn't know I would be such a good mediator, I didn't know I could do this.
Being a stepmom has changed my life forever. For the better. It taught me that I could be a good mom. I will be a good mom. And suddenly I find myself wanting to be just that - a mom.
I don't just want a baby (sure, they're cute but I quite like that the kid we have now can wipe his own ass!). What I want is to grow our family - for the heart of our universe to grow stronger. I want to experience what it is like to be a mother. A real mother. I want to be pregnant, to create a person, to parent from the start. I want my children to know my grandparents, my parents, my uncles. I want to give all of those people the gift of another family member. I want to teach, and I want to learn. I want to experience this part of life. And I don't just want it for me; I want it for my husband, The Kid, my parents, siblings, grandparents, my husband's mother.
All of this hit me like a truck. It was, literally, like I woke up one day and realized this was the path I wanted my life to take.
And of course, with all these thoughts and feelings comes the anxiety. What if I can't have children? What if something is wrong with my child? (Read all about that here.)
Alas, I have been bitten by the baby bug. Both my husband and I would love to expand our family for reasons, I believe, are meaningful. However, he just started working again (like, last week) after a long hiatus and we have some debt to deal with. And health insurance is so expensive; to add a child to my policy would decimate my salary. With me being the breadwinner right now, we just can't afford it.
It's tough, with all the unknowns out there, to postpone something like this. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what the universe has planned for us.

All Quiet on the Stepmom Front

The Kid was due back to our house Friday after school. I had to go straight from my full-time job to my part-time job. I wouldn't have been home until after 9, if I had decided to go right home. Instead, I opted for a late dinner and a few adult beverages with a friend and I got home well after everyone was asleep. Saturday, I got up to head back to my part-time job and left the house before anyone woke up. Saturday night The Kid went to his mother's. I didn't see him all weekend, and I didn't hear a peep about our last conversation from anyone.
Yesterday was one of those days. I had an annoying site visit for work, and then I took the afternoon off to take care of some things at the DMV. After the site visit, I popped home for a quick bite before going to hell register my car. Only to find that my dog had an accident...on my bed. Cleaned it up. Went to DMV. Waited three hours for a 5 minute transaction. Finally leave DMV and head to the gym to blow off some steam.
As I'm standing by the mirror untangling my headphones, The Ex wanders out of the shower. I haven't seen her at the gym in ages. Apparently she was surprised to see me too, since when she noticed me she gasped and dropped her towel. I have since gouged my own eyes out and filled the empty sockets with Tabasco sauce.
Other than her obvious surprise, she did not acknowledge me (normal). Neither did she stab me or otherwise inflict any sort of physical harm, indicating that The Kid's recent realization was not mentioned to her and if it was she is taking it really well (I'm leaning towards the former).
*Breathes out huge sigh of relief.*
I know this doesn't mean that it won't come up or that there won't be a storm, but in the meantime I'm enjoying the peace and quiet.

Now here's the part that confuses me: The Kid's basketball team practices at my gym, usually at the same time I'm there. He never looks for me to say hello, which is fine by me. I'm usually a sweaty mess and in no position for conversation. Plus, it's hard to see in the fitness room from the lobby so he's never actually seen me there unless I walk out to the lobby. Well, yesterday, the day that his mother was also at the gym and knew that I was there, he came bounding in to the fitness room to say hi. Just to say hi, not to ask for any favors. I know he didn't see me from the lobby; he couldn't have because of the machine I was using. I know his mom told him I was there and gave him permission to say hi before they left. What I don't get is...WHY? She refuses to talk to me, only makes eye contact by accident and spins on her heel if we are left in close proximity to each other so that her back is to me. She could have easily walked him out and taken him home with no further thought. But she chose to let him know I was there and let him talk to me. Weird.
Any insights into this behavior are greatly appreciated. Because, of course, I can't believe she's just being nice.

And So It Begins

Last year, for The Kid's birthday, we took him Up North for a weekend. It was his first time Up North. We took him snowboarding and did lots of fun things. Since August, he has been asking if we were going to go Up North for his birthday again, and we promised we would.
We took him this past weekend. And this past weekend The Kid decided to start acting like a teenager. The Husband and I were so excited because we were surprising him with a really fun hotel, and some fun activities. Well, the normal 4 hour drive to get there took us more than 6. We got to the hotel very late on Friday night (because, on top of the traffic, getting the kid to put down his video game remote and leave the house was like pulling teeth).
The next morning, The Kid asked if we were going snowboarding. Last year, we brought him snowboarding for the first time. He hated it and ended up playing in the snow mounds in the parking lot for hours. I agreed to play with him while The Husband boarded for the afternoon. $300 wasted to play in a parking lot. So this year, I decided not to spend the money. Well, Mr. I'm13Now was pissed because he told all his friends he was going snowboarding and now he wasn't. He pitched a fit and insisted he liked boarding and wanted to go. I offered that he could use the birthday money we were giving him to buy a lift ticket and use his own money for rentals if he really wanted to board; he sulked and denied the offer.
He ended up having a mostly fun day Saturday and enjoying the surprise activities we had planned. But Sunday, folks, was a nightmare.
Our plan was to get a decent breakfast and begin the trek home, stopping at a few shops along the way (shops, mind you, that were of extreme interest to The Kid).
"I don't care if you're hungry. I don't want breakfast. Can't we just go home?" "Gimme your iPhone. I'm so friggin' bored I need something to do."
[at shop] "Here's the stuff I want you to buy me. I'll be waiting in the car." "Why did you drink that whole bottle of water if you knew we were driving? Now we have to stop just so you can pee. This is ridiculous."
Most of this I attributed to normal teenage behavior. Yes, it was annoying but not particularly out of character for a 13-year-old.
Until...
Until we stopped at a rest stop so The Husband could relieve himself. The Kid and I were waiting in the car and he was telling me how he couldn't wait to get home and play his video game.
"I want to get this modification for it as soon as we get home. Can I get it?" he asked.
"Depends. How much of your birthday money is left over?" I replied.
"$2.03" he answered. "But the mod is $8.00"
"Well, I used up all our extra money this weekend. I don't have enough money in that account for the mod. So I guess you can't get it."
"Well then you better go to the bank and put some money in so I can get it. I would have rather stayed home and played games than come here anyway," he said with the utmost I-am-entitled-to-whatever-I-want attitude.
Oh yes, he did. He demanded that I go deposit money into one of my bank account expressly for his entertainment.
This is about the time my head exploded. Or nearly. You see, to take him away for this weekend cost me nearly $1,000. And money is hard to come by in our house. My husband is not working, and this is not by choice. He does not receive unemployment. I'm trying to run a household on my (very average) salary alone. I took on a second part-time job to help out. I used every scrap of money I got for Christmas to pay for this weekend. I canceled dinner plans to save money. I put off buying myself a new pair of glasses (my prescription is out of date, but I hardly wear them so I figured I could wait). I really want a new camera lens, but I wanted our family to have this fun memory even more. I worked really hard not to let him down.
I tried not to get angry. I tried not to take it (too) personally. But I was fighting back tears. I really, truly went out of my way to make this weeknend happen. For him.
I whipped around, facing him with what I'm sure what was a terrifying look on my face and spat, through clenched teeth, "How. About. You. Say. 'Thank. You. For. Spending. All. Your. Money. To. Take. Me. Away. This. Weekend.' Instead. Of. Asking. For. More. THINGS."
Silence.
"Whatever," he muttered.
With that, my sunglasses went down, not to be lifted again until I was safely in the privacy of my own room.

The rest of the ride was punctuated with more complaints. I probably could have behaved better in response, but I was so hurt and angry that I just fed into his attitude.

"This car is so friggin' uncomfortable." Sigh. Sigh. Long drawn out sigh.
I am rather tall and had the seat pulled up so that my legs were squished in order that he might have more room. Not good enough? Fine. Why should I suffer? Upon this complaint, I shot my seat back so that I was comfortable, and asked, "Better?"

"Your iPod sucks."
I turned off the radio all together. (The ironic part is his iPod is mainly full of my music; they are basically one-in-the-same. Not to mention I let him download 10 new songs for the trip.)

"I'm starving. I don't want Subway for lunch. Find somewhere else to eat."
"Get in your car, take your money and find somewhere else to eat."
"I don't have any money and you know I can't drive."
"Then starve, I guess."
(He ended up getting Subway.)

When we got home (finally!), he refused to say thank you, even when his father insisted on it. He sat on the couch, telling the dog what a horrible weekend it was. He was being an asshole. Not just to me, but to his dad as well.When it was time to go back to mom's, he slipped out the door without even a goodbye.

Of course I still love The Kid. Of course I'll still do things for him. I'm not going to dwell on this experience as a benchmark of our relationship. But this weekend was an eye-opening experience. He has slipped into that hormonal void where nothing I, or his dad, or his mom, or his stepdad, do is good enough. His moods are all over the place, totally unpredictable. Sometimes he's still that sweet kid, but primarily he is a teenager.
Over the past few years, I've been so focused on meeting his needs that I've neglected my own. No more. I've laid a great foundation for our relationship, but it's time to take care of me. And clearly, bending over backwards to make him happy has only made him a spoiled little princess.
Time to buck up, buddy.
And time for me to have some fun!

Quotable Sunday

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, "I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along." You must do the thing you think you cannot do.


ELEANOR ROOSEVELT

The Twilight Zone

Yesterday was game #2 in my stepmom-goes-to-games experience.
Firstly, The Kid's team didn't get creamed! He did great and they only lost by 2 points in the last 4 minutes. I was great fun to watch.
The Ex was there but had to leave before the end of the game. Consequently, her mother came to watch the end of the game and take The Kid home.
To describe her mother as an evil troll would be kind. This woman has been nothing but nasty to my husband and I. She hated The Husband from day 1 of his dating her daughter. She threatened to kill him when they got pregnant. She would call her daughter every day of their marriage and say, "You don't have to stay with him. You can do better. There's always a room in my home for you." She shoots us dirty looks when we're in the same place at the same time. She constantly tells The Kid how much she hates us. She says rude things about me, but not to me, whenever we run into each other. She. Is. Horrible.
So, I was less than thrilled when we had to swap out some of The Kid's forgotten things to her at the end of the game. Ugh.
As we were all standing around the cars, waiting for things to get unlocked/situated there was an awkward moment where it was just me and The Troll, standing within throttling distance feet of each other. She snuck a look in my direction. I decided it was high-time I actually meet this woman.
I stuck out my hand. "Hi. I'm EWO. I've heard so much about you. Nice to finally meet you."
She returns the gesture. "Hello. I'm A Conniving Twatbag The Kid's Grandma."
Silence.
She continued, "I've heard so many wonderful things about you," as she placed her knobbly, wrinkled, old hand on my arm. "Thank you so much for being so great to my grandson."
Insert record scratch.
The Husband dropped the car keys.
The orange The Kid was eating fell straight out of his gaping mouth.
I must have looked something like this.
"W-w-well. Well, that's very kind of you to say," I managed to choke out.
We transferred all of The Kid's stuff into the car, said our farewells and I jumped into my car.
The Husband and I looked at each other in equal states of disbelief.
"Well that was..." I whispered.
"...odd, " he offered.
"Um, yeah. I need..."
"...a drink?"
"Yeah!"
And so we drove away from The Twilight Zone and went to the pub.
I don't know what prompted this woman to suddenly recognize that I'm not an evil bee-otch. Maybe she doesn't and just felt outnumbered. Whatever the reason, I think it's still a pretty huge compliment coming from Satan her.
And I think it's safe to say that nothing but good has come from becoming more fully involved in The Kid's life outside our home.

Nothin' But Net

Some of you may remember that over the summer I received my first invite to one of The Kid's school events. This was a huge breakthrough in my "stepmom" role and I was hoping for the opportunity to participate in more school events.
Well last week was The Kid's first basketball game of the season. I've seen him at a few practices since he practices at my gym, where I reside most afternoons. I'd been asking him when the games started, but true to teenage form he had no clue. Last Wednesday, The Husband informed me that Thursday would be the first game. And uncharacteristically, I invited myself. I asked The Husband to clear it with The Kid first (the last think I wanted was him to be thrown off by my presence and play badly). He said The Kid was fine with it and so I planned on going.
As Thursday wore on, I got nervous about going. I've never been in a confined space with The Ex and I was worried about that. I was worried about the reactions of the other parents, who have heard less than savory stories about my character. In any experience that involves all members of this blenderfuck, I assume the worst and so I was worried. My stomach was in knots. My heart was pounding. Around lunchtime I decided not to go. I mean, in six years I've not really been (allowed to go) to anything. It's not like he would miss me. I would go to the gym and sweat out the anxiety and have a nice night at home with my family, where I would hear all about the game.
The game started at 3. At 2:56 I had a call from The Husband. I didn't answer it, because I didn't want to let him know I was wimping out. He left a voicemail, which, of course, I listened to right away.
"Hey, just wondering if you're coming to the game. I just picked The Kid up from school and we're on our way to the court. See you there, I guess." Still, easy enough to wimp out. Until, as The Husband was hanging up the phone I heard The Kid ask, "Is she coming? Is she coming??"
Dammit. No wimping out now.
I threw on my coat, hopped in my car and headed to the game, a bundle of nerves all the way.
Once I got there, the small parking lot was full-up. Wait, there was a spot! The only spot left in the lot. It is, youguessedit, right next to The Ex's car. (Bullocks.) Park. Call husband to tell him I'm here.

Deep breath.


Deeeeeeeep breath.

He came outside to find me, warned me we'd have to walk by The Ex as soon as we got in the court. In we go.
Apparently, no one told The Ex I was showing up. This was immediately evident from her body language ( she looked like someone shoved an electrically charged rod up her poop chute).
Evil me cracked a small, discreet smile. I didn't know I could make her that uncomfortable!
Otherwise, we ignored each other and watched the game from opposite ends of the bleachers. The Kid's team got C.R.E.A.M.E.D. But they were good-natured about it, and I had a blast watching him. I really did.
After the game, he looked over and his face lit up. He apparently had not noticed me walk in.
"You made it!" he exclaimed as he bounded over.
"Wouldn't have missed it for anything!" I replied, "Now go see your mom." (Thanks to all the reading on other smom blogs, I was prepared to shoo him off to him mom first so she wouldn't get upset). He ran over to his mom, gave her hugs and kisses and then consorted with the various teenage hooligans in the hallway.
Suddenly, I heard my name called from down the hall. A sharp, female voice. I froze in place and looked in the direction of the voice. It was not an awkward confrontation, as I had assumed. It was one of The Kid's friend's moms, who I know primarily from The Kid but also from around town. We stopped to chat, which impeded my lightening-fast getaway, but it was nice to have positive recognition from another parent.
The Husband waited for me while The Kid walked outside with his mom. Once we were all outside, The Kid asked which car he was going home in. The Husband said whichever he wanted, and The Kid said he would go in mine. (Keep in mind, my husband's truck looks something like this, and my car, while old and beat up, is a bit more, um, normal-looking.) I was shocked that he would choose to come with me right in front of his mom, so I piped up, "Okay. I'm parked right next to mom." Just to be sure he was cool with it.
"Okay, let's go!" he said.
And so The Kid, The Ex and I walked to our cars. In a perfectly awkward silence. Because, you know, she and I don't talk. He said goodbye to his mom (he was at our house for the next few days) and we left. He was happy as a clam, oblivious to the dense tension surrounding the whole situation. Which made me happy. I mean, this is our problem, not his. And, judging from his actions it is not affecting him. Good for all of us!

The best part, for me, is that I don't have to wait for sporadic invites or invite myself to school events anymore. Last night, at dinner, The Kid asked if I was coming to his game today. I said I would but Dad wouldn't be able to go. He said, "At least you'll be there." Going to this game, such a normal occurrence for most parents, was a huge step. It broke down so many barriers.

I can't wait to go watch The Kid's team get creamed again today (they really aren't very good...).

Sometimes Mom

Mother and Child, detail from "The Three Ages of Woman"
Gustav Klimt

At dinner last night, The Husband had a long chat with The Kid. The chat was primarily around my concern that The Kid was nervous to talk about his mom's fiance in front of us. He got a very cool present for Christmas, and when I asked who got it for him he said, "Uh, I forgot. I don't know! No one. Mom. Yeah, Mom. It was Mom who got it for me. I think." He has always been very open about talking about his life with us, as we have never pried, tried to gain information or used any sly tactics. We just want him to be comfortable talking about his life, not feeling like his love for his mom is a taboo subject in our house. So, I thought this response was out of the ordinary. I knew from the response who the gift was from, so I brought it up to The Husband who in turn brought it up to The Kid.
The Husband reassured The Kid that it is great that he likes his stepdad, that it is a blessing that he likes both of his stepparents so very much. He said he will always be the dad and he knows that, so The Kid doesn't have to worry about talking about Stepdad if he wants to share a story.
This seemed to put The Kid at ease. They talked about the new structure of The Kid's family and how happy he is to have additional uncles, aunts and grandparents who love him so much.
The Kid insisted that we are a family, no matter what anyone else tries to tell him.
Then he asked, "Do you remember that time I called her mom?" (Her being me.)
The Husband didn't remember. I remember the instance, only because I thought The Kid was calling his dad Mom, and it made me chuckle (my husband is anything but motherly!).
"Well, I did. And I got upset afterward. Like I shouldn't have said that. But, I think of her as my stepmom. She takes care of me. She does everything for me. Sometimes I might want to call her mom. It doesn't matter right? It doesn't matter what I call her?"
I have never, ever thought of myself as a mom to The Kid. Firstly, I would have been 15 when he was born. Though biologically possible, I was wayyyyyyyyyyy to young to have a kid. A freshman in high school??? Nope. I'm too young to be his mom.
Going in to this whole shindig, I knew he was very much a momma's boy. He was primarily raised by his mom and his grandma. It's not like he needed another motherly figure in his life.
We've always been more like buddies. I don't discipline him unless I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself (or me, or the dog, etc.). I feed him things I say I would never let me own children eat. I let things he does that really really REALLY bother me slide.
The Husband told The Kid it doesn't matter what he calls me (as long as it's not shithead or f**kface) and he can call me whatever he is comfortable with. The Kid said that sometimes, that might be Mom.
So, I guess I'm Sometimes Mom.

I never saw that one coming.

Help Out a Sister Stepmom

I came across this story today and it broke my heart. If you're in the position to help out a sister stepmom this holiday season, please donate. All donation information is listed in the linked article.

And, hold your family just a little closer tonight.

Updated: Since I don't live in Michigan, I sent a check but it took me a bit to find the proper address for monetary donations. If you're able to give, here is the address:

The Buckland Fund
c/o Eastern Michigan Bank
600 Water Street
Port Huron, MI 48060

A Happy Thanksgiving

I almost feel guilty saying it, because I know that so many stepfamilies struggle during the holidays and Thanksgiving is the kickoff to it all. But this year, our first Thanksgiving as an "official" stepfamily, was the best Thanksgiving ever.
Part of the reason it was so special was because we are all acutely aware that this may be the last Thanksgiving we all spend together as the family that we know. My grandfather has been in and out of the hospital the past month; at one point, there was one big scare where the doctors needed to know what was in his will. Luckily, he's doing great but the fact remains that he has been living with cancer for two years and he nearly died a few weeks ago. It wasn't lost on us that we never know when our number is up, and that we are very lucky to have Gramps here.
Then, of course, there was the fact that we had the whole family present. The Husband (who didn't have to leave mid-way through dinner), The Kid, my mother-in-law (who has always been invited but never actually made it), all the usual suspects from my immediate family and the various misfits who have become like members of the family over time. The day was full of smiles, laughs and genuine holiday cheer.
I was a bit nervous that The Kid would be bored, grumpy or otherwise teenager-ish. You see, he's never spent an actual holiday with us. But he had a blast. He got "drunk" on IBC rootbeer, schooled my sister in Catchphrase and wished every spoonful of corn he ate farewell with a cheerful, "See you tomorrow!" (Ew.)
In fact, when The Husband left in the evening to take his mother home, The Kid insisted on staying with us to help clean up and play games. I was in awe, that he wanted to stay in a house with a family he's only known for a few years, an hour away from our home, with no members of his bio-family present. I was also nervous - what if he had an attitude attack and I was the only one there to discipline him? (I'm rarely put in the position of disciplining unless it is a safety issue.) We stayed late, played games, ate dessert (and more dessert and more...you get the idea) then rocked out to Dead Kennedys on the ride home.
Friday, both my brother and my sister called to say how much fun they had. One of the misfits called to ask if my parents would adopt him. My dad (the most highly-critical individual I've ever met) called to say it was the best T-day he's had in a long time. As a stepkid himself, he hyper-analyzes everything I do as a stepparent and on Friday he told me I'm doing a great job. Score!
Friday night was also the first time The Kid has ever acknowledged me as his stepmom. He always refers to me as a shortened version of my name, and I'm okay with that (even though I generally hate it when people use a shortened version of my name!). A few times, when introducing me to his friends, he has become flustered with what to call me and I usually just interject and say my name. Friday, I was introduced (dare I say happily?) as "my stepmom."
This Thanksgiving was a happy one indeed, and it seems that this holiday season sees our family feeling more and more like a family with every passing day.

I hope you all found something to be thankful for, even if simply a full glass of wine!

Thankful

The stress of the holidays in Stepmomville has been all over the smom forums lately, as it's that time of year. I admit I hadn't given it much thought, since we never spend holidays with The Kid. We usually make our own special rituals on a different day.
That is, until The Ex texted The Husband and asked, "What's up for Thanksgiving?" We discussed it and decided to ask The Kid what he wanted to do; no pressure, just his preference for how the day goes. He said he wanted to spend the day with our family (our parents, grandparents, siblings and a few misfits). So The Husband texted back that we would pick him up at a certain time on T-day. And then she said no.
Huh?
It seems that once she understood the schedule of our day, she told my husband he could pick up The Kid at the exact time we sit down for dinner. At my grandparents' house, an hour away.
At this point, I caught on to her game and, despite the fact that I want The Kid to enjoy holiday time with his dad, I put my foot down (for only the second time ever, I swear!) and said he could pick up The Kid at the time stated or much later that night. Because quite frankly, I'm sick of her flexing her first wife muscles and using their son as a means to disrupt our lives.
Soo....
For the first time ever, The Kid is spending a holiday with us. Because he said he wanted to. Even though his mom wasn't thrilled with the idea.
It's not a competition thing. The Husband and I just want The Kid to be happy, to feel welcome and safe and fat and happy, all those quintessential holiday feelings. And this year, he wanted to eat with us. It might seem like a small feat, but it's actually huge that his mom listened to him.
And it's also huge that we, being unwilling to bow down to The Almighty Ex, stood our ground and didn't have to rearrange our lives for her.
For this, I am not only thankful. I am also hopeful.