Author: The Unofficial Stepmom

And, I’m Back

Today, as we honor mothers, I raise a glass to my stepmother sisters. We mother, but we know we aren’t their mother. We love, but that love may not be returned, or it may be conditional. We support our partners on their parenthood path, knowing that we are the low hanging fruit.

Know that I see you and I get you. The road has many ups and downs, but we are in this together. Sisters, we got this! Xo

And Here We Are Again…

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been here. I haven’t forgotten about you. I’ve been trying to figure out this new normal like the rest of you, while watching my hair turn gray.

It’s been a year none of us will forget, the Season of the COVIDs. With no extra energy to write, the blog and book have stalled. I also pressed pause because to be honest, writing about being a stepmom, and all that comes with it, feels a little tone deaf. Our world is suffering. We’ve lost friends, family, jobs, and what was.

I am lucky enough to be able to hug my mom today on Mother’s Day. We are fully vaccinated. There are millions of mothers and daughters, aunts, uncles, sons, brothers, fathers, and sisters around the world who will not be able to hug each other because the vaccine isn’t available to them.

We have to do more to ensure that the vaccine is available to all.

So, on this Mother’s Day, as global citizens, let’s join together to get the vaccine to everyone who mother and are mothered.

Happy Mother’s Day.

https://www.globalcitizen.org/en/media/vaxlive/

Mother’s Day

To all of my sister stepmothers, I see you. Happy Mother’s Day to you. We mother but are not mothers. We parent, but are not parents. We love, but may not be loved, and we support but may not be supported.

Keep loving hard.

Soldier on my stepmother sisters, you matter.

Mother’s Day Flower Box

Our Mother’s Day

We mother, but are not mothers, we parent, but are not a parent, we love, but may not be loved, and we support, but may not be supported.

For all of my sisters in stepmother-hood, you are not alone. You are making a difference, whether noticed or not, you are an important person in the lives your step kids, whether they realize it or not, you are valuable, strong, and the rock of your family, whether you feel it or not.

So I say, “Soldier on, sisters, cheers to you, and happy Mother’s Day.”

#mothersday #happymothersday #stepmom #stepmother

I Train Like Every Day Is My Super Bowl

Football players train their whole lives for their run at the Super Bowl. From the moment they start playing as young boys, they dream of the big game, the big ring, the big bonus, and of course bragging rights.

Being an Unofficial Stepmom isn’t that different. I can say with 100% certainty that I feel like I’ve been in training for this big game of being a stepmom since I met the Captain. Only my game is happily ever after. Well, maybe not that, that’s too much pressure. So how about non-eventful ever after?

Like our beloved, well-trained football players, I’ve had excellent coaching along the way from my stepmom Sherpa, and an amazing family counselor. While the players may stretch and run drills, I’ve been stretching thoughts of trying to not plan ahead, but rather live in the moment. And, while my drills have felt like fire drills a lot of the time, they’ve continued to make me stronger, more self-accepting, and closer to being okay with not being the perfect stepmom with the perfect step family.

So, once this year’s Super Bowl is a distant memory, and the players head into the off season for sunshine and rest, I know that my Super Bowl is a marathon, not a few hours on a Sunday in February.

 

 

 

 

When You Care Enough to Send the Very Best

The winds of change aren’t just brought on by an El Niño-infused Pacific Northwest winter, but they can also be brought on when the weather patterns of our feelings shift.

After Christmas, and the shit show that was, I was given a card by the boy child during a “Gift-and-Run” on New Year’s Day. If the “Gift-and-Run” is unfamiliar to you, it’s like a hit and run by a car or a doorbell ditch, it’s like that. So, the boy child did a “Gift-and-Run” of a card. He basically tossed the card to me as he was walking upstairs. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I left it on the table next to me for about an hour while I thought about what I should do. Do I call him down to open it, or do I open it without him? I couldn’t believe I was strategizing over the opening of an envelope. It’s not like I was presenting at the Academy Awards and opening the Price Waterhouse Cooper envelope. …And the winner is…an overthinking adult.

After way too much thought, I opened it without him.

Here’s what I found inside the envelope:

 

I’m not kidding, this was the card with a $25 Amazon card inside. BOTH kids signed it! I called upstairs and thanked him. Then I thought about it more. I obsessed. After receiving nothing (or a candy bar) for Christmas’ past, I was shocked. I asked the Captain, “What did you tell them to get them to do this.” He said, “nothing,” and that when he was going to talk to him a few weeks ago, the boy child brought it up to him that he wanted to get me something. Wha?

I thanked the boy child and nonchalantly asked the boy child if this was for me and his dad? He said, “nope.”

The kids gave me something for Christmas?

The writing was definitely the girl child’s. Then, being me, the Unofficial Stepmom, I looked at the date on the gift receipt, I’m sure he picked it up on the way over on New Year’s Day, because Christmas was so awful.

Holy shit, the date on the gift receipt was from Christmas Eve.

I can’t believe it. The kids cared enough to send the very best.

 

 

That’s a Wrap

I made it through Christmas 2018.

Thankful for my parents, sister and her family, and the Captain’s father, sister and her family for getting us through another mine field of a holiday.

This Jewish gal is done celebrating Christmas.

On the positive side, we made it disappear one day later than last year. Mazel.

Bracing for It — Part Two

Last year’s Christmas experience had a lasting impact on me. It forced me to hit my expectations reset button. I began the long road to reset on the evening of December 25, 2017. That was when I said to the Captain that he needed to make Christmas go away. I didn’t want to see it again. Probably not rational, but I needed it to go away. So, they erased it. They took down all of the decorations, lights, cards, dishes, everything. We usually keep the decorations up until New Year’s Day, but not last year.

The next morning, the boy child also apologized to me. He blamed his sister, but I didn’t care. He, maybe for the first time, saw that I was human and that I had feelings. That apology meant more to me than he will probably ever know. Granted, I’m sure the Captain told him that he needed to, but I appreciated that he did it. I know how uncomfortable he must have felt.

Later that morning, I cautiously made my way downstairs and decided then that I needed to start taking care of myself. I needed to do this in a different way. I wasn’t sure where it would lead me or how it would manifest, but I knew I never wanted to feel the hurt I felt on Christmas ever again.

I decided that 2018 needed to be my “Year of Happiness.” 2017 was supposed to be my self- professed “Year of Joy,” but that didn’t work. I’m sure you see a pattern here.

So, I bought Gretchen Rubin’s “Happiness Project, One Sentence Journal,” where you write down one thing that makes you happy each day. I love the concept of this journal. Love it.

I made it to January 28th.

The journal sits on my bedside table and squarely looks me in the eyes each day. It’s okay. I don’t feel guilty. Just knowing that it’s there helps me stay focused on the energy it takes to be happy rather than the energy it takes to be sad.

Life continued to throw us unexpected curve balls over the spring and summer, and now I’m here again, it’s almost the middle of December.

For now the decorations are up, and they are making me happy.

Here’s to keeping them up until the Rose Bowl!

Wish me luck!