The Bonds That Break

Carl and I are close. Not just like we like hanging out close but close in a way that makes us almost inseparable. I liken it to what I imagine is a similar bond between an adopted child and his/her mother. Let me correct myself, I liken it to what I hope is a similar bond between an adopted child and his/her mother. Sometimes I am grateful that I do not have any biological children. The pain I feel when Carl is gone or hurt or sad... it is a physical pain. And if what they say is true, that nothing can compare to the bond between a biological parent and their offspring... well, I'm not sure I could survive that. The bond we share though only highlights the lack of a bond Carl has with his biological mother. Far from gleeful, I am saddened and disheartened by this void in both their lives. It is a very difficult for me to understand so I can only imagine what thoughts must go through Carl's little psyche. I know it hurts him that he is not close with his mother. Both my husband and I have tried so hard over the years to draw the two closer together but our efforts have all been one sided. Carl's mother prefers to bond with herself, so to speak. And while I want to believe that she loves Carl deeply in her own way; I'm afraid she simply loves herself more. Carl's mother's name is Winter. She is the polar opposite of me in every way. We share a love of Starbucks, reading, and sarcasm. The similarities stop there. Carl is the product of a casual relationship of two people who had nothing in common as well. I used to say Winter was a little bird with a broken wing that I rushed to help... only to find that the bird had teeth and liked to bite. Perhaps that is an unfair picture but it feels pretty balanced to me and many other people who have been bitten as well. She's given us, but more importantly Carl, a real run for our money this past decade. I have never met anyone like her. And while I still try to help her, I am wary of being bit. For many years, I pushed the relationship between Carl and Winter. I helped Carl get and give elaborate gifts for every holiday. I covered for Winter when she let Carl down yet again. I outright did things for Carl that I allowed Winter to take credit for. I ran myself rampant trying to give Carl the relationship with Winter that he so desperately wanted. Winter was neither present nor accounted for and Carl began to be angry at me rather than focusing on his biomom. -I- had lied to him by covering for her. -I- had made promises that weren't mine to keep. I had assured him of a love and desire from his biomom that he questioned. And slowly Winter's relationship with her son began to tarnish mine with Carl as well. I had to cut the cancer out. So where does my need to help the little bird, find the love that Carl so desperately wants from Winter, and protect my family find balance? Very simply, it doesn't. My priorities simply shifted from focusing on Winter to focusing on what Carl needs. I adopted a policy of brutal honesty with Winter and strict boundaries. I help Carl express his love without pushing and simply listen to his disappointments without judgment. Above all, I do not make promises that are someone else's to keep. Beyond support, I no longer try to "fix" Carl and Winter's relationship. It was never mine to fix anyway no matter how much I may have wanted to heal that hurt for Carl. Carl and I are still extremely close. I am the only adult in his life that doesn't need a translator when he speaks and I get all his inside jokes. His sense of humor is my own and I see my mannerisms expressed in him. He is a wonderful child. I do hope one day his biomom sees that and cherishes it as her own too. She may not want these moments but they are my life's little treasures. Perhaps one day she'll come around. Until then, I'll love him for her.

Sometimes, Love Is Not Enough

Love makes the world go round. Actually, no, that’s inertia and a whole slew of complicated NASA jargon I won’t even pretend to have mastered. I do know that the Earth is moving at approximately 1,040 miles per hour. Well above the 65 speed limit on most major highways. And roughly 2,000 miles per hour slower than stepfamily life. I love my husband. I am madly, passionately, head over heels in love with my husband. There is almost nothing I wouldn’t do for him (I say almost since eating Brussels sprouts or anything with eel is still out). But no matter how much I love him, the love in itself is not enough to keep me in this crazy, chaotic stepmom life. So, hypothetically of course, imagine that you are flitting through life with nary a care in the world. You have just completed four college degrees in three years (no, I did not stutter), you have just renovated an entire house, you just gave a speech in the Senate, your greatest concern is how you will get your hair done this week, and life is going great. Then you get a phone call for a family emergency that brings you scurrying back to your loved ones. You return home and start over. Then in walks the man of your dreams *trumpet flare*. Only hiccup is that not only are you polar opposites but he comes with baggage- a LOT of baggage. But love conquers all so you jump on the back of his white horse and off you gallop into the sunset. Only thing is that now you have to unpack. Did I mention that your new husband has a lot of baggage? Yeah, a LOT. Looootttssss. I’m talking full Louis Vuitton matching International set with extra pieces… in several different shades of crazy. In bag one you unpack his mistrust in the entire female species. Bag two looks handy from the outside but you open it to find an overbearing, passive-aggressive, barb throwing mother-in-law. Bag number three is the heaviest of the bunch and you find your once seemingly invincible new husband has an incurable disease that he will die early from. Bag number four is misshapen and won’t fit anywhere so it’s left in the hall for you to continually bump into- we’ll call this the baby mama drama purse. And the rest just stacks to the ceiling as time goes by. So what is enough to keep me here? Why do I stay? I made a promise of “in good times and in bad” with no caveats dictating the percentages for each that must be maintained at all times. I am committed and I dedicated my life to these two boys, come what may (insert Nicole Kidman lilting Mouln Rouge singing voice here). And because they need me and I need them. Life as a Kensington has not been easy. My husband and I are still madly, passionately in love but we had to find a solid foundation. It started with trust, open communication and a willingness to respect one another’s opinions regardless of how very different they may be. It is all wrapped up in strength and ability to lean on one another when we need to. Love is not enough without loyalty, respect, hard work, friendship, solidarity, belief in one another and strength. When you have all of that, then you have enough to make your world truly go round. Without those things, we stall.

I Am Not the Other Woman

It is true that my husband and I knew each other for many years before we ever became romantically involved. Outside of a schoolgirl crush on my part though, we were never an item. In 2001, I moved to New Zealand from America. That’s right, an entirely different country on an entirely different continent. My now-husband and I were in sporadic contact at best- a vague MySpace comment, a postcard here and there but nothing in depth. In 2003, my now-husband and Carl’s biomom begin casually dating. Three months later, Carl was conceived on my husband’s birthday. They decided to move in together for Carl’s sake but did not marry. (I think it may be important to mention that Carl has an older half sister; who did not live with his biomom.) In 2004, my stepson was born. The following year, Carl’s biomom and my husband split for good. In the summer of 2006, my husband was awarded full custody. In the FALL of 2006, I moved back to the United States. As old friends, my now husband and I met for lunch several months later. It would be a couple of months after that where we started conversing regularly. To this day, I still get accused of breaking up my husband and Carl’s biomom’s marriage even though 1) they were never married and 2) I wasn’t even in the country during their breakup or custody trial. It would be another year after I returned before my husband and I even begin dating in earnest. A lot of the accusations come from the personal saga woven by Carl’s biomom and some of it comes with society’s perception of stepmother’s in general. My husband and I took things very slowly for Carl’s sake and not a single moment of our relationship was done without considering him and his needs. So you can imagine how upsetting this can be for Carl when he overhears these stories; Stories that have no merit to them whatsoever. Just because I am a stepmom, doesn’t mean I stole another woman’s husband. Sometimes we just come along after to pick up the pieces and shoulder the baggage as best we can. If anything, I am a street sweeping concierge and not a home-wrecking whore.

Superhero or Invisible

I have seen stepmoms be physically crushed in public moments of great sadness. See, stepmothers in particular cannot step right by society’s standards. We either are doing too much or not enough. Even something as innoculous as a child getting a haircut or cookies being brought to a classroom party can become acts of war. But in the very same vein, a child not getting a much needed haircut or cookies not being brought to a classroom party can also become acts of war. It often feels very much like a damned if you do, damned if you don’t sort of world we float around in. Then there are the grey areas. I always say that stepmoms have to wear two different capes. Her superheroine cape and her invisibility cloak. One moment we’re trying oh so hard to impress our stepkids (and even their mom) that we are pulling off feats science has deemed impossible in our current space-time continuum. For instance, I have a friend who is a stepmom. A full-time stepmother to a beautiful 7-year old girl who is the spit of her father. She visits her mother every other Thursday-Sunday. During one of these visitations, notices for a surprise Christmas pageant went out which included the role and instructions for the costume that child was assigned. The biomom never passed the information on. It wasn’t until weeks later that they got a copy of the wrinkled up notice and had approximately three days to get this costume ready. My friend put her superheroine cape on and stayed up all night after shift work at a hospital. She literally made her fingers bleed putting together this costume so her stepdaughter wouldn’t be the only child not ready. On day three, she did her hair, went over her lines with her, baked a cake for the parent cake auction, and off they went. The biomom showed up more than half an hour into the pageant and missed her daughter’s monologue. The lights came up and everyone started complimenting biomom of her daughter’s costume and how great she did. The little girl wanted pictures with her parents… which stepmom took. And while her husband and biomom chatted to the teacher, stepmom waited on the sidelines. The success of the night would not have been possible without stepmom but she was in her invisibility cloak for the simple fact that she was not a biological parent of this child. And that’s how we roll. Stepping up and stepping back as need be. It is not easy. It is akin to doing all the work in your place of employment but the lady who steals the mini muffins and gossips by the water cooler all day getting the credit. But we’re devoted to the “job” and the rewards come later when we sit back and look at something that we helped build. That exists as it is because we put our all into it. So no matter what cape or cloak we have on, it pales in comparison to the thickness of the skin we have to grow in this stepparenting life. Sit back and look at the beauty of something you helped with and remember to stand with your head held high. As I told my friend that night, “You see that smile? You see how her cheeks are hurting from how happy she is? THAT is your recognition. THAT is what you have done. You have created this moment of happiness for her. And for that, the whole world sees you. SHE sees you.”

Top 10 Rules for Being a Stepmom

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. Sorry, kids. I hate to burst your bubble but there is no cookie-cutter one-size-fits all rulebook for stepparenting. I love my role as a full-fledged stepmom but that in no way means that any time a single friend comes to me who says “I’m dating a man with kids. What’s your advice?” that my answer is not always “Ruuunnnnnnnnnnn!!!!”. Whether I am fully committed or should be fully committed is up for debate when it comes to my life. Let me give you the Cliff's Notes version: I met and fell in love with my husband after years of friendship, I never knew Carls’ mom, I thought I would be a really cool stepmom- more like a big sister type, so madly in love, I jumped in head first. And then the crazy train pulled out of the station. From an absentee mother who lived to cause drama to court fees to nasty in-laws to the diagnosis of a horrible disease- My life has been nothing less than a Lifetime movie. I did not eagerly chomp at the bit for my current role in Carl’s life- I was thoroughly shoved unmercilessly into it by our circumstances. And now I have learned who and where I am, and who and where I want to go. It took me YEARS to be comfortable with this though and it was not an easy journey. But it is a wonderful journey nonetheless. Full of beautiful moments and wild adventures. So what are my rules for stepparenting? Just one- There are no rules. I can give advice though but it will be up to you to take what works for you and create your own. My advice would be to take one step at a time, learn from your mistakes, don’t be afraid to try, don’t beat yourself up if you don’t fit a mold others feel you should model yourself after, do what is right for your family, always see the bigger picture, forgive often, love with abandon, trust your gut, and always build your family up rather than tearing it down.

The Moms’ Club

There they were- track suits on, café lattes at the ready, and strollers united: The Moms Club. I half expected them to have matching Pink Lady silk jackets and offer to sell me Tupperware. At this point, I had been a permanent fixture in Carl’s life for three years but Kindergarten was a whole other ball game compared to preschool. I was a fiancé at this point but not a wife. Carl had lived with me for a couple of years now but I was not yet officially his stepmom. These were the ladies I had to stand with every morning and afternoon though as we dropped off and picked up our children and awkward silences followed by hurried whispers wasn’t on my goal list. “Hi! My name’s Helen. Are your kids in Mrs. Lopez’s class?” And once I got them talking about their kids, they relaxed. Carl ran out in the midst of the conversation to give me a hug and kiss before running off to play on the swing set. They all complimented me on Carl and (as always) commented on how he was the spitting image of me. And here we go. “Thank you but I can’t take any credit. He’s my stepson.” They all looked confused. “We’re not biologically related. I’m going to be his stepmom.” And with that single word, I was sure images of Maleficent entered their consciousness. “Oh.” And just like that, I was certain the scarlet S for “Stepmom” had been embroidered to my chest. On subsequent run-ins, I was cordial to the moms and focused on Carl. I could feel the sideways glances and hear the hushed tones. About a month went by and I jumped when a voice behind me asked “Hi Helen! Are you free this Saturday? The ladies and I want to go have a ladies night and we thought you might be able to come too!” The rest of the group magically materialized behind her; enthusiastically bobbing ponytails bouncing a-bobbing. “That sounds great!”. So off I went to my certain doom. The evening started off friendly enough but there was still an awkwardness. The lilt of unanswered questions wavering in the wind. “You know we all call you SuperMom, right?” This statement took be aback. Did she just say “mom”? I was still trying to find a diplomatic way of stating I wasn’t a mom when the conversation took another direction. “So how long have you been dating your fiancé?” And the horse ran from the gate! I decided to be honest as a dozen women eagerly leaned forward in their chairs asking question after question. The only questions I abstained from answering were personal questions regarding Carl’s mother (they needed to come to their own conclusions, I didn’t need to lay my version of the truth on them). And just like that, I was in. Strangely enough, I am the only stepmom in the bunch. I definitely offer a different perspective. I found as time went by though, my status as a stepmom flittered away until I was just “Helen”. I am asked for parenting advice and relationship advice almost daily. I try to be as supportive as possible in it all. I asked one of the moms I had become close to what it was that made them decide I should be included in their close-knit group. “It was YOU. We saw what type of person you were and how much Carl loved you and you him. We wanted to be friends with someone we looked up to. And a lot of us envy how easy it seems to come for you. We’re hoping you’re rubbing off on us some.” In the end, it wasn’t about whether I was a biomom or a stepmom- I was accepted for the work I put in and the love I had.

He Is My Responsibility

When I married my husband, I married my stepson too. No, literally; I said vows to them both. And while I was emotional when I recited my vows to my husband; I literally choked up and could not get the words out for a few moments when I addressed my vows to my stepson. When my husband and I were dating, Carl got really sick. He was three. My boyfriend (boyfriend-husband?) ran to the store to get some medicine for him and I stayed behind to watch over Carl. The poor little guy vomited and had explosive diarrhea. It took forever for my boyfriend to return due to traffic. When he did, Carl was clean and sleeping soundly. I was on the floor, covered in dried vomit, my hand in Carl’s little hand. That was the beginning for them both. The true and utter, “we should keep this woman in our lives” beginning. The reason I recount that particular incident out of so many was that Carl was not my responsibility at that point. He was my boyfriend’s child who I was really just getting to know. I didn’t have to care for him or clean him or sit with him… but I did. And as much as I can say that this child is in fact not mine and I do not have any responsibility to him, I cannot. I cannot because it’s an untrue statement. When I decided to love his father and I decided to love him and then I decided to pledge my love to them both- he became my responsibility. A responsibility I take very seriously. Carl’s biomom is alive and well. She lives about an hour from us and sees Carl every other weekend. We parent very different and are opposites in every way imaginable. She does not feel she has any responsibility to Carl outside of what she is willing to give. Normally this generosity comes with a demand for something she feels she has a right to or directly benefits her in some way. It is an odd reversal of roles. I have struggled to understand not only her actions but her as a person as well. Almost a decade later, she is still an enigma to me. In the end, it was not my choice to make. Carl needed me and I will not let this little boy suffer due to the choices of the adults in his life. So, no, he is not mine but, yes, I completely and wholeheartedly belong to him. He has become my responsibility- one I am honored to have.

Stepmoms Are All Best Friends

“Oh, my gosh! You’re a stepmom? We should get together for lunch one day!” I love stepmoms. Love them. I am one. I have lots of stepmom friends. I do not like all stepmoms. I passionately abhor some of the actions of other stepmoms. Want to know a secret though? I love moms. Love them. I have lots of mom friends. I passionately abhor some of the actions of other moms. Just because you are a stepmom and I am a stepmom does not mean we will see eye to eye or be eternally bonded in stepmomdom. For the most part, my role is more “mom” than “stepmom” so chances are that while you are telling me your latest BM woe, I’m siding with her. I am the woman who works, bakes cupcakes, decorates for all the class parties, goes on the field trips, goes to every doctor appointment, researches and packs healthy lunches, knows all of my stepson’s friends and foes, all his favorites, his latest elementary school drama, it’s my handwriting on every registration form, and my paycheck going to replace the shoes that we just bought him before the last growth spurt. I am Room Mom, Team Mom and chair several committees for the Parent-Teacher Organization. So when you’re complaining about BM being at all the events for the child or that she’s asking that you use the dye free detergent so the child’s eczema doesn’t flare up- yeah, Team Biomom. Sorry. The thing is, I’m not fundamentally on Team Stepmom or Team Biomom- I bat for both sides. ;) I have friends from both categories and some are amazing mothers who do it all, others trudge along but aren’t really into the whole “mom” thing. And it’s all okay. Because, in the end, I am pro-Mom who tries. Pro-woman. Pro-You’re Making An Honest Effort. And whether it’s biomom or stepmom who is complaining the other one is too involved, I say poppycock. The more hands on deck for a child, the more support and love- that’s amazing for that child. Uncomfortable for us adults maybe but wonderful for that child to see. Just be YOU; whatever your title is. In the end, I will like YOU and what you represent, not because we share or don’t share a title.

NMKNMP

I really bristle at this expression from fellow stepmoms. NMKNMP stands for “Not My Kid, Not My Problem”. And while I realize that it is sometimes necessary for stepmoms to step back, I disagree that any child in any household is not the responsibility of every adult within that home. Let me qualify that with there are many different levels of stepmom involvement but even at the very basic level, I don’t know how someone could step completely out of a child’s life that is a part of their family altogether. Perhaps it’s difficult for me since I am a fully participatory and active stepmother whereas BM isn’t really involved. I wish that anyone involved in a child’s life could take on an active role to be there for the child though. Grandparents, Aunts/Uncles, Cousins, Step-parents, Siblings… be a cheerleader, be present, show your support, be a positive role model. I can’t imagine that having more people in your life to love and support you would ever be a detriment to a child. I can’t imagine telling your stepchild s/he can’t have dessert until they clean their room would be overstepping any more than that child’s teacher telling your child that s/he can’t go to recess until they pick up their puzzle. Could you imagine that every time a teacher had to impose a consequence or address a behavior them calling the principal? Or grandma having to call the police because the child won’t eat their vegetables? It seems silly to me. You should not have a loss of control in your own home because you are worried about control issues. As a parent, we should encourage the other adults in our child(ren)’s lives to be there to show them right from wrong. We need words of guidance as much as we need words of encouragement; in all places, at all times. I know for me personally, I don’t need another parent at the playground to come find me to tell Carl not to eat the cat poop out of the sandbox- please, by all means, tell him “no” and then come find me to let me know what happened. You’re an adult, please be a positive influence in our child’s life if for some reason we are unavailable. If this is your home, you need to understand that ETTIYKTCISAPOYHAF: Even Though This Isn’t Your Kid, The Child Is Still A Part Of Your Home And Family.

A Child “Of My Own”

“When do you plan to have kids of your own?” another mother helping with the class party asks me enthusiastically. “You’re so good with Carl. Wouldn’t you like to have your own?” I have been asked this question since Carl was in preschool… that was over six years ago. People assume that since I love kids and Carl in particular, I’d want to expand my family. “Your own” always rubs me the wrong way though but not as much as the need for individuals I barely know to ask such a personal question about my reproductive ventures. “Perhaps someday but I’ve got my hands full right now helping to raise this gorgeous boy” is my standard answer with a sweet smile. Would I like biological children of my own? Absolutely. I’d love a dozen little Carls and Carlettes running around if given the opportunity. Can I have biological children? Yep, my uterus is textbook- thanks for asking. So why don’t I? Such a simple question with such a multitude of answers. In a cruel twist of fate, we tried for years to have children. I have conceived and miscarried a total of three horrible times (including once during court). I finally sought infertility treatment and, as a last checkoff on the insurance list before beginning any treatment, my husband was to be tested to rule out any male infertility factors. This was a no-brainer. I mean, the issue was obviously me as Carl was running around full of life. Right? We were called in the next day to be told my husband was infertile. Carl was a miracle child from a drunken one night oops. A beautiful, glorious oops but a luck of the draw nonetheless. We were devastated. So we turned to IVF and ICSI. I saved every last penny we had to pay for the medications and the procedure. I worked extra hours and sold anything that we didn’t need. We were to begin treatments in the New Year. Three weeks later we got a call from Carl’s therapist. Things were not well with Carl and his biomom. CPS was called. His teacher contacted us with concerns. We were asked to make changes so Carl’s needs were addressed; his biomother refused to make those changes voluntarily. Every last cent we had went to legal fees. And with that decision to protect the child we already had, we sacrificed the child we may have conceived. Do I regret the decision? Not even remotely. I truly love Carl with all my heart. I cannot imagine loving a biochild any more. Yes, having more children was a dream but we already had one who needed us. There are no guarantees in life. So when do I plan to have children of my own? I have one already. He belongs to my heart. And if God sees fit, we’ll be blessed with another miracle one day. Until then, we’ll love the miracle we have now with everything we’ve got and never let a day pass that we are not thankful for him being in our lives.