My stepfamily family

Recently I spent some time on the phone listening to a friend I met through stepfamily group unload about her incredibly complex family – nine kids between her and her partner.

(The collective gasp when they first introduced themselves and described their situation in the group was mostly politely stifled. K, if you’re reading this, I salute you!)

K described having nobody at all to talk to who could understand. No close family members, no friends in a similar situation, no knowledge (until I set her straight!) of the online stepmum community. Just her and her partner against the world.

It got me thinking, though, about how incredibly fortunate I am in having a family that these days is basically made of step.

Within two years my brother and sister and I all went from non-step to most definitely step.

In early 2008, I got together with my Lovely Man, we moved in together, and bought a house this year. He has three boy childers, alternatively the lights of my life and the bane of my existence.

In 2009 my wonderful sister married her own lovely man. He has a six-year-old daughter from his first marriage. She has a seven-year-old son, my sweet nephew, from her previous relationship. Their “ours” baby, another boy, is due in February.

In 2008 my younger brother got together with his beautiful partner, who has the two kids from her ended marriage about sixty percent of the time. After a brief and decisive adventure in Family Court, he also sees the two-year-old son he had with his ex every weekend and is going to be starting overnight visits in March.

The funny thing is that of all the exes, my sister’s former partner, who on paper would seem like the scariest worst possible prospect for harmonious co-parenting, has turned out best of all.

He has a nice girlfriend, both of them drop by my sister’s house quite happily to see my nephew and collect him for visits, the communication is reasonably unstrained and everyone respects him for the positive contribution he makes.

The other exes range from patchy to appalling in their attitudes and behaviour.

Our parents, still together after thirty-five years of marriage, have taken to stepgrandhood gracefully, welcoming the various broods and managing to remember everyone’s names and birthdays. I think they are occasionally a bit bemused by it all, but remain wonderfully supportive.

For myself, without my brother and especially my sister to talk to about step stuff, knowing they understand the unique pressures, the dramas and the constant, grinding conflict, I suspect I would have descended into insanity.

Nobody can calm me and get me thinking creatively about the situation with the Stepboys and their Mum and the Lovely Man better than my beautiful sister. Her mantra is:

Well, what can we do about that?

(As, incidentally, is my mantra with her when the situation is reversed and she can’t find her poise with two hands and a magnifying glass.)

Nobody encourages firm boundaries better than my brother:

That is Totally Not Acceptable behaviour. You gotta crack down on that!

Nobody listens to my awfulising more patiently than my parents until I’m ready to get back on deck.

Support is such a chancy concept for stepmums. Friends sometimes don’t get it. In-laws, as Nine Kind of Crazy notes, are not automatically behind the new family. Stereotypes abound and can make us reluctant to identify ourselves as being part of a stepfamily.

So I’m very, very lucky to have such a sensational support network.

But I wonder, in the absence of such a steppish family, who do other stepmums rely on for their support?

Things I wish I’d known – final instalment: The Kids

Kids can be mysterious critters, especially for us childless/childfree stepmums.

Following on from this post and this post, here are a few things I wish I’d understood about kids and specifically stepkids, before getting aboard The Good Ship Crazydom.

Listen to the kids. Try not to brush over the feelings they say they have even when they’re inconvenient to your worldview.

Early on, I made the mistake of trying to be reassuring.

But you know you’ll see Daddy again soon!

It didn’t help them miss him less, just told them that their feelings weren’t valid.

You don’t have to fix the feelings, but acknowledging them and offering empathy at least tells the child their feelings are ok. The emotional coaching techniques described by Ron & Nan Deal are really helpful.

HOWEVER – bad behaviour needs to be addressed however understandable or unhappy the feelings that are driving it.

Don’t let the kids hit you or call you insulting names, even in fun. Being called an old ugly stinky witch repeatedly will make you snap one day, however much you try to laugh it off.

Trust me on this.

Understand developmental grieving. Carolyn at The Grown Up Child talks about this a lot from the child’s point of view.

It basically means that kids don’t just get over the divorce.

Every important life milestone from graduating primary school to their own wedding will probably mean they’ll grieve Mum and Dad not being together anymore all over again.

As so many of us are being reminded at this time of year, Christmas is a hot button time for reigniting this kind of grief even in adult stepkids.

So the whole situation can feel like one step forward, seventeen two steps back. Knowing why it’s happening makes it easier, though.

Especially at this time of year, have boundaries with giving gifts.

Early on, I would quite often buy my stepkids presents – I enjoyed sleuthing out things I thought they would like and watching their happy faces when I guessed right, and seeing them get pleasure from the model dinosaur/Lego castle/baking kit/Twilight book.

I hoped it would show them that I got their interests and personalities and that I was interested in what interested them, and that we might do the activity-based things together.

Recently, though, I had this phone call.

Lovely Man: Hi darling. Boy A wants to talk to you.

Me: Sure!

(Surprised; Boy A never wants to talk to me and recently is usually aggressive and unpleasant in what he does say.)

Boy A: I was just wondering, what did you get us for Christmas last year?

Me: Ummmmm. Ummm. Uhhhhm. I’m not sure. Why do you ask?

Boy A: Just want to know. So what was it?

Me: Weeeeeelll, I think there were books, and those crystal Christmas trees, and…. I can’t remember what else. Why were you wondering?

Boy A: No reason. Bye.

And he hung up before I could reply or talk to the Lovely Man again.

On asking the Lovely Man later, it turned out that Boy A had been making an unfavourable comparison between me and his Mum’s boyfriend (who had just bought the boys a Wii), and the phone call was intended to prove that I wasn’t as “good” a stepparent.

Initially, I was not happy, Jan that the Lovely Man had let him call me for that purpose; the call was uncomfortable, and I knew at the time there was some kind of agenda beneath the words that I wasn’t getting.

But the Lovely Man, bless him, said he was sorry. He said:

I thought that, maybe, it was a positive that Boy A wanted to call you. That you might get a chance to have a conversation.

Mostly, though, I just felt very sad and disappointed and used.

It’s not the first time that I’ve worried that the boys might be heading in a slightly exploitative direction.

I don’t want the Lovely Man and me to be valued chiefly for the nice things we might buy them. I think that it’s dangerous if the main positive they associate with us is gifts, and having money to spend on them.

I don’t want to feel used and taken for a ride.

I have lots to give in terms of my time and personality and care for them, so those are the gifts I’ll be offering from now on.

There will be presents for Christmas, but I’ve decided to give them what they actually want much more than the latest Lego Mega Roadkill Fantasy Kit or whatever, if only they knew it – one-on-one time with their Dad, doing a special activity together.

I’m planning it, paying for it and caring for the other kids while each boy and the Lovely Man do their thing together. I’ll also arrange one experience that we’ll all do together, maybe a surfing lesson or something like that.

Waaaay generous, in my opinion, though probably less immediately, shred-the-wrapping-paper popular on Christmas morning.

Given how little time the Lovely Man and I have together, sending him off to do something with each boy while I care for the other two, and doing it three times over, is absolutely the most generous gift I could give them.

Kids are pretty black-and-white thinkers.

It’s a reflexive kid thing to try to find someone to blame for any given yucky situation.

However unreasonably, that could well be you – it’s hard to blame the Mum and Dad they love for the divorce.

Recognising that adult reality is made up of shades of grey and there doesn’t have to always be someone to blame (hopefully) comes later.

Don’t expect yourself to love the kids.

Other people’s kids can be maddening because we stepparents rely on steely self-control to choke back our baser urges rather than having a built in wait!-don’t-strangle-your-beloved-flesh-and-blood safety valve to fall back on like their parents do.

I find it quite sad hearing stepmums desperately insisting they love their stepkids. Of course lots do, but I remember making this mistake early on, trying to convince myself as much as anyone else.

Then I thought,

Hold on, what kind of idiot loves someone who criticises them and their family, hits them and is rude and disrespectful?

Sounds waaaaay too much like an abusive relationship to me!

So now I give myself a break. Sometimes I love some of them, sometimes the best I can dredge up is compassion, and sometimes they just plain drive me batty and I go for a run to avoid throttling the next little voice that drones Daaaaa-deeeee.

On a happier note, try to enjoy the kids.

Hopefully, you might get the chance to have fun and be playful without having to worry constantly about their futures/educations/moral characters.

There’s actually only a limited amount you can contribute on these fronts, so see if you can let the parents, whose job it primarily is after all, do the worrying while you get your tickle or Nintendo or whatever on.

As a mum and/or stepmum, what kid-related insights do you have to share?

Hallelujah

I’m on my annual Christmas pilgrimage tonight, if seculites like myself can ever be said to pilgrimate.

(Yes, I know. Neologisms a specialty.)

Anyway, I’ve come to a church in town to hear Handel’s Messiah sung.

It’s become a ritual in the time I’ve lived here, a part of Christmas that means more to me than almost any other aspect of this season of the year.

Tonight, between the high level stepfamily stresses we’re going through just now and my own pain for the Lovely Man, currently under heavy fire from his boys, I’m hoping more than ever before that the balm of the warm evening will combine with the balm of the beautiful, joyous music to give me the grace I need to survive this Christmas.

May we all get the grace we need this Christmas, from whatever source we prefer to seek it.

…stepmothers might ride.

Thanks so much to everyone who commented on/linked to my last post listing the things I wish I’d known about the early days of stepfamily life when I was in the early days…

(What’s that? It still is the early days? Why do I feel 103, then?)

Here are a few more, this time specifically about settling into a relationship with a ready-made Dad.

The mantra the children come first is not a self-evident truth, however tempting it may be to chorus at every opportunity; it’s a destructive and dangerous idea if you actually want your second-family relationship to survive.

Check out my saviour Wednesday Martin’s article on When and Why You Shouldn’t Put The Kids First for more on this.

One of the common ways this seems to come out is when Dads make a point of showing how important the kids are by always popping the stepmum at the back of the queue.

Joel Schwartzber’s article on What Remarried Dads Owe Their Stepmom Wives talks about this stuff from the much rarer man’s perspective; like most stepfamily resources it assumes the couple are married, but I think applies just as well to any committed partnership with stepkids.

The Lovely Man and I still don’t always find a mutually agreeable balance of my/his/our/the kids’ needs, but things are getting better all the time.

Our biggest progress was when I stopped letting the Evil Mantra (“kids must come first! kids must come first!”) make me feel so guilty that I was silenced from asking for what I needed. He’s truly a Lovely Man, and he wants to help if only I let him know how!

You might not be the kids’ mum, but it’s often a good check-in of whether your partner is being fair to ask whether he’s treating you as if you were.

I don’t mean with respect to decision-making about the kids’ schools or braces or religion, but to general things, like when deciding where to go to dinner or whether to intervene if the children are misbehaving towards you.

These days, my (private) rule of thumb is that if he wouldn’t have behaved this way/allowed this behaviour to his ex-wife during their marriage, then it’s not right toward me either.

So, for example, if one of the boys made disrespectful comments about my family, I think:

Would he have let that go unchallenged if made in front of their Mum about their Mum’s family before the breakup?

If the answer’s no, then I expect him to sit on it, pronto.

Or if he decided what to do for a day out by asking the children’s opinions, agreeing to whatever they said, then saying to me in front of them: Is that ok with you?

Would he have followed this decision-making process with the boys’ Mum when they were married?

Of course not; in healthy first families, children might be consulted but ultimately adults make the decisions.

I’m pretty certain his ex-wife’s views were always genuinely canvassed and taken into account, not just given lip service in front of the kids so that she felt pressure to go along to avoid being the bad guy.

Doing this exercise really helps me sort out my boundaries and also identify when I’m the one being unreasonable. Oh yes, it happens!

You and your partner don’t have to endlessly turn the other cheek to serious untruths or distortions in the name of not dragging the kids into adult conflict.

After all, a lie is often accepted as truth when you don’t correct it, and lies of that kind are designed to often cause harm to the parent-child relationship.

It needs to be very skilfully and carefully done, though, and only when truly warranted. If the cross-talk is getting bad, Divorce Poison shows techniques for assessing whether it’s necessary to take action and, if so, how to address the stories.

(Of course, this is mostly up to Dads. But it’s still good to know.)

Your partner may know how to be a first family Dad, but he might need help to learn how to be a stepfamily Dad.

For Australian families, I can’t recommend the stepfamily course run by Relationships Australia highly enough.

Finally, like Nine Kinds of Crazy said on the same topic, try to make sure you get time with your partner without the kids.

You’ll be a much saner happier bunny for it, and more able to enjoy the kids and your own Lovely Man!

If wishes were horses…

I’ve been thinking today about what I wish I’d known before getting into this step business.

Dad’s Second Whatever started it with this post where she alluded to the question of whether to share or not share hard-won, hard-nosed step wisdom with a new stepmama.

It’s a bit like when someone’s pregnant, you know? Do you tell them birth horror stories so they’re prepared for what could go wrong, or gloss it all over with sticky icing to avoid inducing a panic attack before it’s necessary?

Are all, when you’re dating/bonking/besotted with/engaged to a guy with kids, reality does tend to catch up quickly enough!

So I thought and thought, and wished that, instead of just looking at me with the kind of appalled expressions that made me want to reflexively check my person for dog faeces, there had been some nice experienced step-type person who might have been able to tell me a few things.

Things I wish I’d known in the early days…

You’re not alone – lots of women routinely don’t describe themselves as stepmums because they too are afraid of being judged. Dig a little and you’ll be surprised.

On  the other hand, first family parents, particularly mums, may find your very existence terrifying in a this-could-happen-to-me kind of way. Not your fault!

Unfortunately, I’m good with kids and children always love me doesn’t mean you’ll have an easy ride. Your stepkids are not ‘normal’ in the way they relate to you; being able to charm the most petulant primary schooler or colicky infant around in milliseconds does not mean these children will accept you easily.

Just because a child acts sweet or even courts you and says that you should marry their Daddy doesn’t mean things are going to go smoothly. Many stepkids have a delightful honeymoon period until the reality that you are going to be around permanently sinks in; then the acting out can start.

Boy A was like this with me to begin with – during those first few visits he would help me with the chores, assemble ingredients for me to cook, tell me all about his friends and toys.

I honestly thought: Wow, this stepmum thing’s a lark. Nothing to it! Oh, woe, was I in for a shock(er).

Once he realised that I wasn’t a passing fad or an amusing but temporary visitor, his demeanour towards me became much darker – there’s been the hitting phase, the complaints to the Lovely Man about how annoying I am, the endless shrugging, the refusal to answer or acknowledge me, the requests that I not visit anymore, the story that Boys B and C are scared of me.

Huh.

Not fun, but now that I’ve got a more realistic idea of how he feels at least the Lovely Man and I can work on it.

Boy B, on the other hand, started off very shy and withdrawn but now seems (mostly) to really enjoy my company.

And Boy C is, as ever, my saving grace, with his funny stories and giggling fits and the occasional spontaneous cuddles that warm my [wicked] heart.

Don’t overcompensate to prove to the world at large that you’re not wicked. Foolish people will assume you are wicked however nice you are, while smart people will see how hard your job is and forgive your mistakes.

Same deal: don’t overcompensate to prove to the kids that you’re not wicked. The kids’ attitudes to you may end up having very little to do with you and how you actually behave.

Read read read! I loved Stepmonster by Wednesday Martin and often refer to The Smart Stepmom by Ron Deal and Laura Petherbridge (it’s very Christian-centred but so practical that even this little agnostic was prepared to stick with it – totally the best stepmum book I’ve read in terms of useful, hands-on strategies).

Stepfamilies are so different to first families and some of what happens is completely counter-intuitive. The more a stepkid likes you the more they may reject you? Whaaaattha?!

For non-US stepmums like me, Amazon is your friend. Most of the books I’ve found helpful aren’t readily available outside the US and UK.

However much or little you and your partner see the kids, things are never going to be the same. This will probably take over your life, more or less…

…and your non-step friends will struggle to understand why you seem so obsessed.

And finally, it’s hard, but it’s also sometimes really, really good fun.

This list actually ended up ENORMOUS, so I’ll post another installment tomorrow.

In the meantime, I’d love to know what other stepmums include on their If Only I Had Known list…

About those gingerbread moose…

… as mentioned in this earlier post.

Now, (gets all dogmatic) I strongly recommend a syrup-heavy recipe if you’re going to want to get the moose from bench to baking tray without calling in the large animal vet for major reconstructive surgery.

This recipe has been used in my family for as long as I can remember; we usually triple it for exciting gingerybready celebrations like Christmas. Not one tree or star or moose ever gets thrown away!

The Ikea cutters I bought for Boy C also had, ummm, a fox, a squirrel, a bear and what I’m sure was meant to be a trout, given the inland-Northern-Hemisphere-animals theme of the set, though Boys B and C insisted it was a dolphin. We didn’t get the porcupine shown on the Ikea site, but it’s cute, dang cute.

Here is Boy C, proudly displaying his best moose. He’s a great cook and, incidentally, a gorgeous little guy, and is always motivated to bake with me, which is lovely. You can see the Christmas tree in the background.

And here’s Boy B, casually munching his moose as he ploughs his way through a comic at the speed of sound.

Boy A declined to be photographed on this occasion, which is not at all unusual, but was spotted quietly downing his moose when he thought I wasn’t watching. Which gave me a little thrill!

Battle stations!

“Let me have your thoughts”, you said, ever-so-reasonably, in an email to the Boys’ Mum.

Hmmm. Well, if you’d asked for my thoughts, I’d have said,

Time to batten down the hatches.

Because if the Boys’ Mum hadn’t been planning to send you a plateload of abuse prior to reading that comment, she certainly will be now.

I love that you work so tirelessly for peace with her, but based on past experience, “Let me have your thoughts” is tantamount to “Hit me, honey.”

We know she’s not going to enjoy the idea of the children having their Christmas with us in our city, despite that it’s our turn and last year you spent six am Christmas Eve through till four pm Christmas Day either in her city or travelling to/from there.

She’s not going to like the idea of travelling to see her children. However assiduously you arrange your calendar to fly to their city for every birthday, every Father’s Day, every special occasion – in addition to the ten days per month you spend there as standard.

She’s going to find a kazillion reasons, just as you foretold, why this fair taking turns nonsense “isn’t child-focused”.

You know this.

So let’s get ready. Man the battle stations. Secure moveable objects. Tuck your self-esteem in snug at the waist. She’s gonna blow!

Going to the dogs

Does anyone else follow shitmydadsays ?

(By the way – since the stepboys came along I have making big big big HUGE efforts to tone down the odd curse. But insist on linking to profane – funny, but profane – websites. Sorry, people. Doing my best, here.)

Hilarious. Especially to my family. Especially at Christmas.

Sometimes I think we should set up some kind of (Stuff) My Dad Says collective.

My own Dad’s mantra at this time of year is Bah… HUMBUG. He doesn’t hesitate to trot out that puppy around toddlers, four-year-olds, Sisters of Mercy. Anytime is a good time to spread misery and despond, as long as it’s Christmas.

But tonight’s contribution was pretty cute.

To set the scene:

Fireworks popping like crazy in the background, much to the discomfort of the Fluffy White Dog, who admittedly is somewhat neurotic. During a particularly big thunderstorm last year, she tried to take cover under a broom.

But I digress.

So, anyway, the fireworks were exploding merrily. The dog was trembling, just lightly.

The Dad chose this moment to say:

Hear that, Fluffy White Dog? That noise out there? They’re shooting dogs, that’s what that noise is.

Fluffy white dogs, as it happens.

I’m just glad he manages to contain the sardonics when the stepboys are around. Kids, as all you Actual Mums know, can be pretty literal. And this is a family where our grandfather used to kiss us goodnight as children with the blessing:

Close your eyes or I’ll have to hit you with my stick with nails in it!

Nice one, Gramps.

On the other end of the spectrum is my Mamma. She’s bought each of her six(!) stepgrandkids a Fair Trade Christmas ornament to hang on the tree, and is currently in the process of sewing little calico bags to store them in, to be embroidered with each of their names.

How these two people have sustained a devoted marriage of over thirty-five years standing is still a bit of a boggle to me sometimes.

May the Lovely Man and I do likewise!

Stepmum Tragic

Recently, I was described, to my face, as a tragedy.

Not a way I’ve tended to think of myself before.

Arms, legs, faculties: Check!

Free of serious injuries or ailments: Check!

Immediate family members intact: Check!

Nope, nothing tragic about this life. In fact, I tend to think that it’s (mostly) pretty damn fine.

Beloved boyfriend, dear friends, fabulous family, occasionally troublesome but affectionately regarded stepsons all in place. It’s not a cakewalk (what IS a cakewalk?) but I enjoy it thoroughly and regularly.

But no, my life, and specifically my family, is tragic.

Hummm.

The person who made the comment about stepfamilies being tragic should know better. She’s a stepmother herself, and a member of the Lovely Man’s extended family.

I wonder if she thinks the kids she had with her husband are a tragedy, seeing that they are part of a stepfamily? Is she a tragedy?

Now, I’m not denying that my stepboys often feel grief that their mum and dad separated, and, by extension, that I’m now in their lives as the Lovely Man’s partner.

One loves me, one likes me, and one struggles to like me and not like me at the same time. And I know that if they could push a magic button and go back to the way they thought things were before, they would.

We have fun together. We laugh. Last visit we decorated the Christmas tree together. I baked them gingerbread moose biscuits (of which more later). We went to the zoo and tried to outdo each other in the authenticity of our flamingo calls.

We’re not perfect; all five of us have our different sadnesses at the situation.

But. We. Are. Not. Tragic.

Got it?

Good.

The Takeover

NaNoWriMo 2009, we rocked each other’s worlds!

For those who aren’t routinely in the company of self-inflicted craziness, NaNoWriMo is an online novel writing challenge held every year in November, where this year 160,000 assorted insane people attempted to write the first 50,000 words of a novel over the 30 days of the month.

For reference sake, mine was 175 pages long (and I’m quietly having panic attack symptoms just remembering that!)

What I found interesting, though, was the way that stepfamily life, originally meant to be a very minor theme in my tale, took on Zeus-like proportions and rampaged its way through the entire storyline.

My murderer and her various dastardly deeds actually became fairly unimportant by comparison to the multi-generational step dramas playing out.

Oh, and there was also a completely random, out-of-nowhere, what-does-my-character-think-he’s-doing severed hand episode, but I won’t dwell on that piece of gruesomeness too much.

One of the occupational hazards of breakneck speed extreme novelling turned out to be that the plot drives you rather than the other way around.

Another, of course, was too much coffee.

Anyway, it turned out to be very steppy indeed. Me, obsessed with stepmotherhood? Guess so.

Or could it simply be that stepfamily life takes over my head everything like a particularly aggressive weed species?