Monday, December 22, 2014

I am Part of All I Have Met

There are quotes that have stuck with me in life. Published quotes that remind us to be kind to one another or not take things for granted. "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain!" -That's a good one. I like that.

"I am a part of all that I have met."
It's beautiful, isn't it. It's buried in a poem from the 1800's by Lord (Alfred) Tennyson called Ulysses. It's not an obvious part of the poem. In fact, you have to really be looking for something to grab your attention when you read it because, I'll be honest, it's not a particularly engaging piece if you're not into that sort of thing.

It says so much. "I am a part of all that I have met." For better or worse. Whether it's someone I engaged with in conversation in a checkout line or a stranger I shared a smile with.
It's a person I made fun of years ago. She found out. I'm part of her life.
I dated a guy over a decade ago and didn't give him my best. I'm part of his life.
People will cross my path until there isn't a path to cross and they will leave with something of me and I with something of them. Whether I was at my best or at my lowest.
That's a big deal.
If I keep "I am a part of all that I have met" in mind, it grounds me. It does make me want to step up my game and offer a better version of Beth.
You know what else it does? It makes me want to grab the good in others as well. Because they are forever a part of me. I want to choose to see their goodness and not point out the flaws. Because that goodness is what I get from them.

I don't know if this is what Tennyson had in mind when he wrote his (lengthy, non-rhyming, non-Iambic pentameter, not incredibly engaging) poem.
It's just a line.
But, intentional or not, it's a damn good line.

I would have never known this line had it not been inked on Jodi's ankle.
Jodi was my husband's first love.
The boys' mom.
Jodi found this quote and embraced it. She wanted others to embrace it, too. She was a teacher. She knew she was shaping and changing people. She knew she would be part of the lives of her students and colleagues forever. For better or worse.

She passed away five years ago today.
I never met her.
But she is such a part of our lives.
She is in Sam's thoughtful, analytic, and quirky conversations.
She is in Max's creative and enthusiastic stories and one-liners.
I know she helped shape Joe into the wonderful husband I was lucky enough to marry--that doesn't just happen. ;)
She is part of all of us.

She is a big part of how I parent the boys. Her boys.
I think about how I would want Logan and Samma raised if something happened to me. This is always, always on my mind.
I feel like it makes me better. It makes me more aware.
It makes me stop and ask: What part of me is shaping all of them?
The busy part? The frustrated part? The part that slips up and causes one of them to gasp and remind me, "We don't say that word"? The part that is so freaking tired of hearing them pick at each other that my yelly voice pops out?
Probably. I'm human.

It's also the part that lays with them a little longer during tuck in time, scratching their back and whispering about their day. The part that laughs at their little jokes. The part that reminds them how loved they are. These are the bigger part of their lives.

I am a part of all that I have met. Just a little quote. A soundbite, really. Do with it what you will. Allow it to be a reminder that who and how you are makes a difference in the lives of others.
For better or worse.
You are leaving a legacy.
You are changing a life.
We don't get to decide when we are done doing this. That's up to God.
My opportunity could end abruptly. What part of me did I share with the world? My colleagues? My family?

Whether the message sticks with you for the day in honor of Jodi, or you keep it in mind over the Christmas season, or it becomes a part of your life, I wanted to share her message today.
You make a difference.
You make an impact.
You shape lives.
You are a part of everyone you meet.
Make it count.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Step Mom (Not the movie)

I have remarked that my husband Joe swept me off my feet with his two dimples (among other things) and then sealed the deal with his two sons. When we got married, we each brought two wonderful children into the union.

It's a little fairy tale-like.
His son is 18 months older than my son, my son is 18 months older than his next son, my daughter, the only girl, is the baby by--you guessed it--18 months.
The six of us have grown and adapted and learned and we will keep doing this, well, forever.
Joe and I made the promise that this is what we would do.
This is a giant promise--Not in the sense that it was difficult to make or that it's even hard to keep.
It's just a giant promise.
To promise your love and faithfulness to your partner is beautiful and powerful and wonderful. To promise these things to three people and trust your partner when he does the same for you and the most important people in your life is breathtaking.
It's overwhelming.
It's jumping out of an airplane.
No, it's telling someone else to jump out of an airplane and then assuring them that you've got their back when you're mostly positive you're cut out for such a role. Hopefully.

Taking the leap and becoming a Step Mom magnifies every parenting insecurity with the awareness that there are now exactly double the amount of little people I could potentially screw up.

Being the Step Mom means disagreeing with their dad from time to time about what is best for them. It's listening. It's holding back tears when they're crying. It's being frustrated with them when they're not trying their best. Or when they're acting too "seven."
Or when they're fighting with "my" kids.
It's not favoring them and taking their side and it's also not sticking up for the children that I birthed.
Blending families with kids is HARD!
It's a tightrope walk with fat feet, a giant heart and more patience and diplomacy than the U.N. could ever hope to exhibit.
Because all four of them keep score.
And, while remembering that getting dressed for the day also includes changing undies is a struggle for all of them, remembering who was victorious in the last "They got to go first playing Wii last time!!" battle can be recalled and backed up with cold, hard facts including, but not limited to:
1. The day ("Because Samma wouldn't stop singing that song she sang in music that day and she has music on Tuesdays so it was a Tuesday.")
2. What someone was wearing ("Remember? It was the day that Max's shirt was inside out but you said he didn't have to fix it because he had already gone through his whole school day like that and that he better hang it back up in his closet later because it technically was not dirty and you didn't want to have to wash it again?")
3. What time of day the incident occurred ("I was hungry because we hadn't had supper yet." or "I was hungry because we had had supper and I was being picky so you told me you were going to mail my food to poor kids and that I could wait til breakfast.").

It's knowing that all of us are in this together.
It's giving space and helping with homework and scolding and hugging and cuddling and rolling eyes (me) and screaming (the girl) and mumbling (the boys) and laughing.
So much laughing.
It's boundaries that even I think are extreme but, damn it, they're necessary. (Probably).

It's being Mommy.
To kids who will never call me mommy.
Because they remember their own mommy and I would never want to replace her. I am just hoping I am living up to what she would want.
I never met her, but I owe her that.
I'm a mom. I get what an honor this is.
I get to be the person who takes care of them when they're sick and listen to their stories and keep their secrets and encourage their dreams--Especially when those dreams are "growing up to be a pilot of everything. Even airplanes and jets and taxi cabs!"
I get to be the person who kisses them goodnight and tells them I love them.
And I get to pray for all of them.
And I tiptoe in when they're sound asleep just to "check" sometimes. And I steal kisses. And I whisper "I love you! God bless!" and "You're so awesome!" And I mean it. So much.

I fell in love with a man. And I fell in love with his kids. And I fell in love with how much he loves my kids and how much my kids love him.
And even though I feel like the title should be much more bold and dramatic, like "Giant-Scary-Leap-Mom" or "Fingers-Crossed-I'm-Doing-This-Right-Mom, I am blessed so many times over ...as a Step Mom.