Stepfamily wedding vow suggestions. Anyone? Help!

So, the Lovely Man and I are getting married.

And he wants to include something in the ceremony that includes and maybe even speaks directly to the Boys.

It’s hard to navigate. So I’m cautious.

There are a few “nots”.

I’m absolutely not going to say anything that doesn’t feel true.

I’m not ready to promise the kids anything that isn’t entirely in my power to deliver, or shouldn’t be solely my responsibility, eg I promise to build a strong relationship with you.

And I refuse to say anything that might tighten the choke hold of their loyalty binds – no “Yay, new family, love everyone, take you to be my children, yay!” kinds of things. Honestly, I Googled “stepfamily wedding vows” and there was so much schmaltz that I entered a whole new emotional state – kind of a cross between nauseated and despairing.

(Sorry if that offends anyone – I can imagine lots of stepfamilies where sentimental love statements might not be out of place in a wedding ceremony. Ours isn’t one of them, though.)

Please, could those of you who are married or planning on getting married or just have an opinion share what, if anything, your wedding ceremony had/will have/would hypothetically have specifically related to your stepchildren and stepfamily?

If you’ve already had a ceremony including stepfamily references, how did it work out?

Quotes from BoyLand

I’ve now spent a full week with the Boys since the Lovely Man told them about our engagement.

It felt like a long week.

As we expected, they didn’t have a huge amount to say about us getting married. After all, weddings are not usually high on the interest/excitement list for tweenage/pre-teenage boys even in the best of circumstances.

Then, of course, what little they said was well-tinged with ambivalence, and interspersed with plenty of acting out. Again, as expected.

Our goal is to talk about it in a low-key, happy way without forgetting that it’s really a celebration for us, not them.

We try to check in with them, see how and what they are each feeling and address whatever concerns and worries they have.

Plus, while there’s certainly no expectation that the Boys will or should feel at all celebratory, we also don’t want to overplay the whole topic to the point where they start to wonder if us getting married is actually the End Of The World As They Know It.

It’s not an easy balance, and the things that are starting to leak out aren’t necessarily what I would have expected.

For instance, all the Boys mentioned the idea of us having more children. Thankfully, and unlike a number of our less-than-tactful acquaintances, none of them asked whether we were getting married because I was pregnant.

(I’m not. Just saying.)

For instance, Boy C said:

If you were to have boys that would be REALLY COOL but if you have girls then we’ll have to get earmuffs to block out all the squealing!

[That's right, Boy C, because there is certainly no squealing to be heard in a house populated by three boys. Banish the thought!]

At one point, Boy C also draped a (clean) Chux cloth over my head and said:

That’s what you’re going to look like when you get married!

Yeah, thanks. I can’t wait.

*******

Boy B, when asked by the Lovely Man whether he would come to our wedding, said:

Okay, just as long as I don’t have to do anything annoying!

Fear not, Boy B, there will be no embarrassing tuxedos or corny interpretative dance performances or unity candle rituals.

If any of the Boys want to be involved in the ceremony then that’s fine, and they will be given the option in a non-pressuring way just so they know they are welcome, but I couldn’t think of anything worse than pushing reluctant kids to be ring bearers or do a sand ceremony for the sake of demonstrating what a happy little Brady Bunch we are[n't].

*******

Boy A hasn’t had anything specific to say on the W topic, except to ask the Lovely Man whether anything would change about our time with them, and be told, that no, it wouldn’t.

He did have one gem for me, though.

After pretty much ignoring me all week, one morning while the Lovely Man was working and I was trying to orchestrate the school run solo he approached me with an obviously school-issued bit of paper and said:

Boy A: B, I wouldn’t normally let you sign something so important, but this has to be in today and Dad’s not here. Can you do it?

Me: Sure. Pass it over and let me look at it.

So, was it a government-required receipt for exam results, without which he wouldn’t be allowed to proceed to high school? Or perhaps an official authorisation for him to participate in advanced pre-military combat training?

Umm, nope.

I giggled to realise that this Document Most Imperative was…. an order form for his class commemorative tee-shirt! with payment not required until next year!

Wowwee. I can totally see why he might have hesitated to consign something so important to my questionable authority.

*******

Finally, Boy C has let a couple of things slip that make me think he is a bit uncertain about whether the roles in our household will change.

One night when the Lovely Man got called into work I took the Boys to a model-painting activity at a megalopolis shopping centre on the other side of town as a treat. When I delivered them to the painting area, the supervisor said something inane like:

Oh look, kids. Mum has come along to paint as well!

As previously described, these kinds of comments lead to ructions if they go unaddressed, so I said:

I’m not their mum, actually.

And Boy C chimed in with: What are you then, B?

Me: Well, what do you think of me as, Boy C?

Boy C: I know! An ugly old stinky granny?!

Later, as I drove Boy C home, we talked about how that wasn’t a nice thing to say and that it hurt my feelings. He said he was sorry, but I could tell he was a bit thoughtful, and he still sounded confused.

Me: It sounds like you’re wondering what I am to you, Boy C.

Boy C: Yeah. What are you, again? What about when you and Daddy get married?

Me: Well, I’ll be your stepmum, I guess. But you could also say that I’m your dad’s partner, and call me by my first name like always. Or you could call me [Nickname] like Nephew 1 calls me. You could even say I was your step-[Nickname], if you wanted.

Boy C: Could I say that you’re my step greek salad? Or my step chicken schnitzel? Or my step hyper-baric-roller-rocket? Or my….

[and he went on to generate an enormous stream-of-consciousness list drawn from what we had eaten for dinner, his favourite toys of the moment, things that had happened at school and half a kazillion other sources. NOBODY does stream-of-consciousness nonsense-generation as well as Boy C.]

Me: Absolutely, Boy C. As long as it’s nice, you can call me anything you want.

Blended Family Bill of Rights (via In this house, I’m the Mama…)

More on the (sometimes contentious) Stepmother’s Bill of Rights.

Back in February of 2007, I posted a Stepmother’s Bill of Rights. It still gets the most consistent hits of any post I’ve ever done. I’m guessing those hits are coming from Stepmoms who are feeling devalued and are looking for empowerment. When I first read that version, almost four years ago, I felt a lot the same. In the years since then, I have learned a lot about stepfamilies, about how they function, about my role as a Stepmom, wife, and mother on this crazy ride we call Blended Family.

The original Stepmother’s Bill of Rights addressed many of the issues that we Stepmoms face, but for me it seemed to leave out a huge part of the picture. If you are a Stepmom, that means that you married a man with children who are not biologically yours. You are living in a marriage relationship (or committed relationship), in a family setting–just with different dynamics than an “intact” (I abhor that comparison, by the way — anyone have a better one?) family.

… Read More

via In this house, I’m the Mama…

The Shake Up

The Boys have been in Our City for the holidays for nearly a week, and it’s past time for a shake up of their rules and responsibilities.

Some things they’re doing well; dishes are mostly getting put into the dishwasher with few and sometimes no reminders, and shoes are staying in one big pile near the door rather than being scattered across the deck.

In the lounge, though, comics, cushions, toys and food wrappers have collected to form a chaotic compost of boystuff that drives me to the edge of my tolerance.

The bathroom is likewise a scene of horror, with chunks of toothpaste adhered like lazy snails to the basin and toiletries, and toothbrushes, towels and discarded clothes strewn about randomly.

The “stupid” houserules have mysteriously disappeared from their place on the fridge.

The Lovely Man doesn’t seem bothered by all this, or even to notice it most of the time. In fact, he admitted when I asked that he had taken down the houserules after the Boys’ last visit. Whattha?!?!

We discussed the Boys’ contributions to the household last night. It wasn’t heated, but we weren’t wholly on the same page, either.

Unsurprisingly, he is less than keen to take on the resistance and conflict of making the Boys do more regular or more sustained chores. After all, given that he’s not bothered by the mess, why would he go to enormous efforts to change it?

The houserules are a puzzle. We went to a lot of trouble to draft them – a group discussion with the counsellor, a house meeting, input from the kids.

All I can think is that really, the Lovely Man is not that comfortable with structured rules, perhaps equating them with harshly authoritarian parenting styles.

(Whereas I see them as an essential framework for creating healthy boundaries and familiar expectations within which everyone in the house can – hopefully – flourish.)

Also, I think the Lovely Man tends to overestimate the Boys’ current contributions and underestimate their capacity for more meaningful contributions.

I said to him last night:

Do you really think that at 8, nearly 10 and nearly 12, the little they do now is all they are capable of doing?

He must have seen my point, because this morning he announced that the Boys will have three new chores to share between them each morning – picking up food from the floor beneath the dining table, tidying the bathroom and tidying the comics.

There was moaning and grizzling and general resistance, but not too much. As the Lovely Man pointed out, each task takes about three minutes – hardly an oppressive degree of exertion.

And the rules? I’ll be reprinting and reposting them tomorrow.

What could do with a shake up in your step household?

Holidays?

I am absolutely trashed with tiredness.

It’s been a busy few days; the Boys’ arrival, visitors, including a child who gets up four-plus times for the toilet each night, a midnight replay of some Grand Final or other that the Lovely Man simply had to watch.

And for the past two mornings, since the Boys arrived, we’ve been woken up multiple times by small bedroom visitors well before seven o’clock each morning.

……

We’re bored.

……

Boy B is hitting me!

……

We want to play PS3.

Despite refusal of permission from the Lovely Man, this was followed shortly by a blast of PS3 muzak at around sixty decibels.

Have I ever mentioned that our bedroom is separated from the TV and loungeroom by flimsy glass doors?

[Damn you, PS3. I never liked your dreadful soundtracks, the way you take over my living area or how wired you make the Boys, and now I like you less than ever. If I had my way I would donate you to a family in India so they could run a lucrative Ps3 café in their village.]

Added to my irritation was that every. single. visitation. was unaccompanied by the knock on the door stipulated by our “stupid” houserules.

So every. single. visitation. required me to wrestle the covers over my top half in a mad panic.

Finally, I gave up trying to snooze and lay in bed, listening to the sounds of  kids bickering, visitors chatting, the dog barking, doors slamming and PS3 warfare compete with the softer but equally unsettling background noises generated by inexperienced baristas mauling my beloved espresso machine.

I’m told they call this the holidays?

[Sorry, whinging will cease tomorrow. If I get at least five hours of unbroken sleep.]

The countdown

Pillows, mattresses and doonas are sunned, aired and smoothed.

Beds are made up – navy and white star bedspreads, varied with sky blue, ruby red and burnt orange sheets. The colours burn; they’re beautiful.

Cupboards are emptied, ready for small socks, long, skinny pants and tee shirts printed with animals real and imagined (but almost always viciously slavering).

Cereal has been purchased in vast quantities. And kid cheese. Along with three types of fruit juice and more varieties of snacks than I’ve seen in whole supermarkets on some remote islands.

A few fridge magnets featuring obscenities have been hurriedly plucked from their places and hidden away, leaving gaps.

Bright pool towels are waiting, folded; the water is around 15 degrees but that won’t matter.

I’ve cleaned everything, though by this time tomorrow night the house will be awash with toys and books and bits of food and Lego will mingle on the floor.

The Boys are coming. It’s late; time minus sixteen hours till the boats hit the beaches and the troops unload, three tired, hungry handover refugees.

I take a deep breath, and wait.

Umm, the kids don’t come first (from Skepticlawyer)

A snippet from a fascinating, stepfamily-relevant new post over at Skepticlawyer:

An oft-repeated mantra, everywhere from law courts to dating agencies, is that ‘children come first’. No-one ever provides any argument to back this assertion, and attempts (by me) to dig up social science research supporting the argument that privileging children’s needs over the needs of their adult parents, their teachers (or anyone else) is good for either (a) those children’s long term welfare or (b) good for anyone else have proven fruitless. This I find perplexing, and I’d be very interested to see what people think of the oft-invoked ‘in the best interests of the children’ (the standard family court line) or ‘my kids come first’ (spattered all over people’s online dating profiles).

See (contrarian that I am), I suspect it’s not true. Not only do I suspect it’s not true, but I also think it’s fed into a culture of child privileging that has led to the great bulk of young people — at least in developed countries — displaying the most extraordinary sense of entitlement. My feminist friends call this kind of thing ‘privilege’, and while the two concepts are similar, I’m not sure they’re the same. Most people, I suspect, don’t have any privilege by virtue of what they are. They have to have it conferred on them, and to my jaundiced eye, it seems that conferral is done, by and large, when they are children. Their needs are placed above the needs of their parents, their teachers and wider society. And then their sense of entitlement blows up in everyone’s faces.

…..

Ultimately I think this issue is really about permissive parenting and divorce guilt, something we stepfamily types tend to be all-too-familiar with.

Head over for the rest of the article; the lively comments are also well worth a read.

Casting shadows

I recently received a question from Vicki about being stepmother to children whose mother has died, and her words got me thinking.

While it is tempting to imagine that stepparenting would be a whole lot easier without the deep shadow a hostile mother can cast over your stepfamily, there are obviously difficult issues specific to partnering a widower with children that cast their own shadows.

Information specific to what is now an “alternative” stepfamily situation seems to be limited in stepfamily literature and resources; ironically even fifty years ago when divorce was still relatively rare but medical science so much less effective at dealing with illness, disease and accidents, stepfamilies were probably much more likely to be formed as a result of death than divorce.

Sadly, in the face of more recent social shifts, wisdom about stepfamilies formed following the death of a parent seems to have been overshadowed by resources focused on dealing with typical post-divorce stepfamily issues such as extended family conflict, parental alienation, and the day-to-day challenges of parenting across two households.

Anyway, I had a couple of ideas, but thought it might be more helpful to turn Vicki’s question over to the stepmother hive mind.

Here’s Vicki’s question:

Stepmumoftheyear…

Have you heard from anyone who has experience with step children whose mum died of cancer?

This is my situation, so I do not have the “other mother” involved. I do, however, know they resent me and my involvement in the house and their lives. Now I deal with them watching home videos of the “first” family, and having them resent me because I’m not her. I do not watch the movies because I don’t want to be sucked into that old life of theirs. My husband lets them watch these videos, out of our presence.

The older one is quietly angry because she knew her mother and must do without her. The younger one just thinks life would be better if her mum were alive…mum would do all the things for her I don’t do, but make her do (cleaning room, two days of loading dishwasher, emptying two wastebaskets…on a schedule, not at 10:30 pm)

I read much about step families with the biological mother involved, good or bad, but not with a deceased biomum. The girls are 20 and 15, and both resent me. My husband is wonderful! Works so hard to make everyone happy…and he loves me so. (Our sweet comment to each other is that I say I love him more than he loves me. He says not so…that he loves me more than that.) After four years of marriage, I am finally learning to “keep my mouth shut” and not knit-pick, tattle, or criticize. I try so hard to let my husband find the not-done chores and spilled drink on the floor. He, then, can deal.

Is there any word out there about this?

Does anyone have any suggestions or input about stepparenting bereaved children (whether or not from your personal experience…)?

More on Marrying the Wrong Person (via Marriage Gems)

Following on from my post yesterday Do you ever think your partner is Mr Wrong? is Lori Lowe’s sequel article More on Marrying the Wrong Person.

Lori’s Marriage Gems blog is a fabulous resource, and a timely reminder for stepmothers about the importance of insisting on investing in our marriage/relationship instead of throwing ourselves headfirst into wrangling the stepkids or fighting the ex-wife wars at its expense.

After all, we made this commitment primarily to our partners, and while we may have readily signed up for all the “extras” stepfamily life entails, it’s important not to get so caught up by the free set of steak knives that we leave the George Foreman Miracle Marvel Magic Grill Centre* to forlornly gather dust in a corner cupboard.

Or something like that…

*Product may be imaginary and may not be available, instore or online, now or ever.

“I have no way of knowing whether or not you married the wrong person. But I do know that if you treat the wrong person like the right person, you could well end up having married the right person after all. It is far more important to be the right kind of person than it is to marry the right person.” — author and motivational speaker Zig Ziglar This quote summarizes the discussion we’ve been having about marrying the wrong person. My post last … Read More

via Marriage Gems

Do you ever think your partner is Mr Wrong?

Sorry – random, I know. Yes, and maybe even a tiny bit sexist.

Not at all fair comment on the Lovely Man, either.

Anyway, Lori Lowe’s fabulous article We All Married the Wrong Person on her blog Marriage Gems is hugely worth a read if you’ve ever wondered if your partner is “Mr Not Right For Me”.

And seriously, in a stepfamily situation complete with rampant stress and over-the-phone expletives and mashed potato flying about at mealtimes, who hasn’t?

Lori suggests that marrying/partnering with the right person is actually a question of commitment and not of finding the mythical “perfect match”.

Stepfamilies understand commitment in a uniquely powerful way, I think.

Certainly, one of the most profoundly positive aspects of life in a stepfamily is the enormous reserve of commitment so many of us find in ourselves and our partners; commitment to caring for and nurturing children not our own, to sticking with our partners in the face of enormous challenges from kids and exes, to educating and equipping ourselves for stepfamily life.

Sometimes, that commitment may need a slight refocus – an important part of your commitment to your stepfamily should include a commitment to nurturing yourself, lest you turn into a Disappearing Woman.

How does your commitment show in your stepfamily?

How can you commit to caring for yourself better?