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.