To the Stepmother of My Children

To the Stepmother of My Children,

I am writing to you as the mother figure in my children’s lives in their dad’s home.  Children need mothers to be nurturing, comforting, and gentle teachers.  In fact, the root word for “discipline” is “teach”.  The two boys feel very stressed when visiting their dad for the weekend.  They feel they are barely tolerated and aren’t allowed to make small, normal mistakes without immediate punishment or constant  threats of punishment.  They feel they cannot respectfully speak up for themselves without being told they are “sassing”, when they are people who simply are trying to be understood.  I don’t know if you and their father truly understand how deeply stressed they are.  They love their father, but have an extremely difficult time when it is their weekend to be there.  Of course there will be some adjustment going from one household to another, and that is to be expected.  And there will always be things about each household that they don’t like, and that’s normal too.  But it has come to be that they are asking and pleading not to have to go to Indy when it’s their weekend to go.  And when they come home, they each break down sobbing about their time there.

I understand I am only hearing one side of how things are. This is their perception of how things are, and what they perceive is what their reality is.  What the boys are asking for is compassion, patience, and respect. 

Are they loud?

YES!

Are they bouncy?

Yep.

Can they try our patience simply because they are children?

Oh yes.

Are they perfect?

Nope.

None of us are.  As children, their brains are still developing, and they are still learning about the world around them; how things work, how to behave in various situations, how to read other people, how to handle their emotions.  As adults, when we make a mistake, or lose our patience, what helps us in that moment? Support?  Empathy? Understanding? Kind guidance? These two boys need these also.

The boys did not have a say in their father moving 100 miles away from them. They really didn’t have a say in whom he chose as a partner and to share their household. But when they told me that you and their father were marrying, they were very happy.  They liked you so much and always said how nice you were to them. Those two sweet boys asked me to teach them how to bake and frost a cake so they could make one as a gift for you.  They’ve never done that for anyone else.    

Being a parent is hard. Being a step parent is hard, too.  You are helping to shape their childhood and creating memories for them and with them. What kind of memories do you want to make?

When they are adults and look back on their childhood, how will they remember their time at home? How will they remember us? How will they speak of us?

You have such an influence on how these sweet boys grow up. As the mothers of our households, we truly set the mood for our family. The world can be a tough place, but we can make their home a safe and comfortable haven.  A place to be themselves, make mistakes, and have a soft place to land.  And learn how to do better the next time.  

I don’t know if this will affect how the interactions continue between you, but I needed to speak up on their behalf.  My sons are the most precious gifts God could have ever given to me. I love the way the older one thinks.  His imagination and cleverness is out of this world. He’s ridiculously smart, and has a thirst for knowledge and how things work.  And the younger one is so sweet and tender-hearted, things affect him deeply.  He’s very perceptive to people’s feelings and extremely compassionate.  And SO funny!  He makes me laugh every day, even when I’m starting to lose my patience with him.  

 I hope you are able to enjoy each of them individually for their own unique personality.

-AM

Mother of the Year

Today I am being completely obnoxious, and am awarding myself
Mother of the Year.
 I am giving myself this award for Showing Kindness Where It Is Not Deserved, for Sucking It Up and Taking The High Road, for Infinite Patience in Circumstances I Thought I Would Never Find Myself In (I know, I know. It's "in which I would never find myself". Whatever.).

Is this my first time being awarded Mother of the Year?  Oh no.  I've been nominated and awarded this to myself many times over the years.

Those long nights, pacing the floor, swaying, patting, shushing, and nursing on very little broken sleep. Enduring countless episodes of baby spit up for five months straight.  Finding a job to support my beautiful babies after my husband financially devastated us, then left me.  That one time I had my sick two-year-old (and his ten-month-old brother) at the doctor's office and she very sweetly told me I would be going home, packing an overnight bag for my son and for myself, and to take him to the children's hospital.  He had pneumonia, and I "slept" next to him through the night while the IV worked it's magic.  Those long days of teething and tantrums.  The times during the public meltdowns of one or both toddlers, when I would smile at onlookers and say, "Don't forget your birth control!" and scoop my little ones up to go home for a nap...

Today is different though.  My boys are a bit older, so the things that require more of me have changed. This time, my oldest declares he wants me to teach him how to bake a cake. I am thrilled! We used to bake together often when they were toddlers and loved it!  The past few years find me pleading for them to work with me on cupcakes or cookies.  They sort of start to help me out, but get distracted and wander off, leaving me to do the work.  They just want me to let them know when the treats are ready. That's just not as much fun for me.

But Julian wants to learn to bake on his own, and I excitedly tell him he is certainly old enough. Then he explains he wants to make a cake for his dad and his bride-to-be.  As a gift.  His brother wants to make his own, also. Ah.

Ok. So we are making cake.  Yes, I will teach them, but their cake must be all their own.  And while at Target, I show them all the pretty wedding cards.  I ask if they want to pick one out to congratulate their dad and his fiancé. They do! They each choose just the right one.  Then they choose a gift card for them.  Look at me, being the bigger person! I mentally pat myself on the back.

This may be normal for some divorced families, but certainly not over here. This is all very groundbreaking. I mean, it was only a decade ago that I was huge and round and nearing the delivery of my firstborn.  Had someone whispered in my ear that before my child's tenth birthday, I would be married to someone else and helping my boys choose a wedding gift for their dad, no way would I have believed it.  Their father barely speaks to me. Ever.There are no kindnesses extended, nothing like that. I am always biting my tongue, taking the high road, doing what's best for my children.

So we now have made all the cakes.  We choose and buy frosting. Now we need boxes to transport them in. Then Julian wants a small bride and groom to top his cake. It's hard to find anything at a reasonable price. We try to get creative. We are in a time crunch. I've spent much of my time and energy on helping each boy bake their very own cake.  And frost. And the dishes. And he really, really wants a bride a groom for his cake. I am so over the whole cake thing.  But this is important to my child.  And in a year from now, what's going to matter most? So my child gets the bride and groom that he wants (I feel a teensy bit better when I find a coupon for it).  He is happy.  That's really all that matters.

The boys both did beautiful jobs with their cakes. They are so proud to discover how capable they are. It shows in their faces.

 Knowing I helped each child create and give the gift they wanted to their father makes me a better mother.  I left all pettiness aside, because this isn't about me or my ex. It's all about the boys.

So for all the single parents, divorced parents, step parents, working parents, at-home parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and guardians.  For all of those moments when you Sucked It Up and Took The High Road, Held Your Tongue when you wanted to say something snarky, Did The Right Thing even though it wasn't fair, Kept It To Yourself for the sake of your children, and Acted Out Of Love for the sake of your beautiful babies, I also award you Mother of the Year.
Now pat yourself on the back. Hug your babies, no matter their age. No reward could possibly be greater.

Little Boys

Little Boys
And their smelly shoes
Rocks in their pockets
Sticky glue

Fingerprints on my glasses
Impish looks
Constant wrestling
Lost library books

Ninja masks
And Kung Fu kicks
Scattered colors of
Lego bricks

Boy parts, pee pee jokes
And new lingo-
Bakugan, Paper Jams
And Ninjago

Superheroes
Climbing Trees
All their jeans
Have holey knees

Pirate ships
And zooming cars
Imaginary
Flights to Mars

Splashing in puddles
Hills of ants
And far too many
Captain Underpants

Boogey noses
Sticky-up hair
Need constant reminders
To stop tipping their chair

Walking and talking
In their sleep
Spinning in circles
Till they collapse in a heap

Cuddly hugs
Yet they sniff my pits
Gales of giggles
Had in fits

So many kisses
And I Love Yous
Come with
Little boys
And their smelly shoes
                  -AM

Sweetness

It's been a truly wonderful summer with my kiddos.  Even so, the other day after breakfast and before my shower, I brewed myself a cup of coffee.  The kids were amusing themselves, and I just wanted a moment (or two!) to enjoy my coffee outside, enjoying the sounds of the morning. In peace, by myself.

Of course, this is not exactly what happened.  I tiptoed through the door and onto the front porch, and as I turned to close the door, Gabriel appeared.

"Whatcha doing, Mom?"

"Oh, I just wanted three minutes to sit here and drink my coffee..."

"With your son," he finished for me in a cheerful sing-song voice.

I sighed and smiled at the same time.  Sighing because the few moments of peace would not be, smiling because summer was coming to an end, and there were only a few precious days left before the start of school.  I could enjoy my coffee alone nearly every single day. For now, I would be enjoying it ...

"With my son", I confirmed.

We chit-chatted for a bit, and at some point we got around to talking about Gabriel's future wife.

"I'm going to find someone pretty who knows God," he said.

I told him that was a very smart thing to do, and to make sure she is kind as well.

"And funny, and smart."

He looked up at me with shining eyes.

"Just like you, Mommy."

Tears sprung to my eyes. I knew I would treasure this moment forever. Then he added two more words that would ensure I would indeed remember this.

"...except young."