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.