Thursday, November 29, 2018

Full Hands

"Sometimes...your hands are so full of "Old" that they don't have time or space to embrace "New". "
(I don't know if that's a quote by anyone famous)

With the holiday season in full swing, I realized I was missing someone from my past. They had been on my mind a lot lately, as we usually shared a lot during this time of year with each other. I looked at old messages from this person, and was tempted to reach out...but something held me back.

Don't hold onto old. 

Today, I sat at my homeschool co-op, talking with some moms, sharing whatever popped into our mind or heart to share. Some of the ladies, I have seen for going on two years. Others, I had just met this semester.

Let go of the old. 

As I looked at them, talked and laughed with them...my heart went back to a conversation I had with my youngest the night before.

"Mama?" 
"Hmm?"
"If you could go back to PA...would you?" 
"No."
"Why?"
"Because...because God called me here. Called us here."
"Don't you miss it?"
"Sure. But here is our home." 

Open your hands to the new.

I passed a mom in the hallway as we left Co-Op. She greeted me like an old friend that morning, and here she was, rubbing my arm forcing me to stop the rushing auto-pilot so many of us go on as we scramble to clean our classrooms, find our kids, get them all in the car, think about what's for dinner as we drive, and get everyone home.

"Hey!"
"Hi!"
"We...need to hang out sometime."

"I know...uh...I'm in town on Wednesdays."
"Okay."
"Just...let me know what's a good time for you!"
"Okay! See you!"
"Have a good night!"

Let go of the old...

As I sat on my couch, looking at my glowing Christmas tree....all three incidents swirled around in my head.

With each year here, God has put more and more people not just into my path, but my children's path as well.

I didn't...I couldn't open myself up to anyone here. I was still bearing my soul to someone back home. I missed many potential encounters for closeness...for interaction...for deep friendships...

Let go of the old...

I thought about the faces of that Co-Op table. I thought about the brightness of the mom's eyes who passed me in the hall. I thought about my neighbors, the people I sit next to at church, the woman who always says she's praying for me even though I have been very guarded in what I say to her.

Let...go...

I realized something. I had prayed so long for community, for a feeling of "belonging" here.

And now I see...God had and continues to put many people in my path. He HAS given me community, and many women who have stretched out there hand to say to me "hey, you DO belong here."

I wanted to stretch out my hand to grab theirs...

...but my hands were full.

Full of people I had been grasping, clinging to...

People that were supposed to be in my life...for a season, and I had foolishly clung to them beyond their time. For many seasons. Even though we both got weary of holding each other's hand.

Let go of the old.

I looked on my social media page, at who was my "friend" on there. I looked at how many were relatively local, how many were from back East. I noticed how little I interacted with those from back East, and how little they interacted with me. They were different people in a different season. I was a different person many seasons ago.
Our hands were full of the old...the old memories, the old seasons, the old people we used to be around each other.

Open your hands to the new...

I realized I had been so busy coveting the old, that I had no room in my heart or hands for the new.

It's nice to have many friends in many places...but if you outgrow the friendship...you're holding onto the old and giving God zero opportunity to bring you new.

New places, new seasons, new people, new memories.

Let go of the old...Open your hands to the new. 

It dawned on me...as the thoughts swirled full circle...

God called me HERE.
God HAS answered my prayers for community and belonging.
Women are extending the hand of friendship to ME, despite my own hesitation.
I cannot keep trying to make the old things...the old people...work in my hands. They're taking up too much space.
I should...I have to...let go of the old that no longer serves their purpose in growing me. I have to let go of the old that I am no longer able to serve in helping grow.

I have to let go...so that I can make room in my heart and hands for the new that God continues to bring my way.
I have to empty my full hands.
I have to be vulnerable to exposing bare hands HERE.
I have to trust God to fill them with worthy friends...HERE.

I have to stop clutching the old with tight fists.
I have to let go of the old...so I can open my hands to the new.

Until Next Time,

~Mama Jenn

P.S.- If the people I'm mentioning still read my blog, please understand...I don't say any of this out of a place of bitterness or anger that our friendship has run its course. I hope y'all hold no bitterness or anger with me. I wish y'all the best as we grow in separate directions <3

Thursday, August 9, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 18

June 12, 2018

Yesterday, I am embarrassed to admit, I did something I never should have started in the first place. It's petty, and absolutely beneath me, but yet...I still did it.

I checked out my husband's ex-wife's Facebook page. *Covers face in embarrassment*

Initially, I did it because her mom said something about her being able to tell when she's mentally unstable "Because of her Facebook posts". So, to guard and possibly avoid the kids from seeing her at her worst, I would occasionally check her profile.

When I admitted I was doing it to my husband, he gave me that "silly little woman" look and just shrugged. Not exactly approving of it, but not outwardly forbidding me from it, either.

I did it yesterday...but after a few seconds, I sort of felt like I always do, but worse.

I felt ashamed of myself.

Why was I doing it now?

I guess, despite my largely feeling a sense of relief my stepkids are gone...a part of me still wants to make sure they're okay. That she's capable of still taking care of them.

I won't get into the nitty-gritty, but there were several instances in the past where she wasn't capable. Hearing what they've been through, the mom in me wants them to never have gone through it, to begin with. Knowing they have I want to take every precaution to never allow them to go through it again.

What probably hurts the most is letting them go back was that they wanted to go back. Despite knowing how they lived, despite her having moments of incapability...they still wanted to go back.

It saddens me they even have to choose...

When I met my husband, we became friends and sifted through the finalization of his divorce together(or, at best as I could being almost 2,000 miles away). He said so many times he didn't want the choice of divorce...not because of his wife per se, but because of the promise he made to God, and he didn't want his kids to go through what he went through growing up.

I had never been married before I met my husband, but I knew the pain(as both a child resulting from and an adult going through) something you thought was going to be forever only for it to...not be.

I remember wishing I could have both parents in one house like I saw some of my friends have, but never fully getting that wish.

I really wish I knew what causes mostly logical adults to become bitter teenagers after the ending of any long-term relationship...to turn on one another and make the whole process of co-parenting harder than it already is. But, so many fall into it, self included. All the while we think we are "winning" against the ex...at the expense of the child/children "losing". It stinks.

This is one of the reasons why I took myself out of the equation. I kept trying to do my best and what was best for kids, while slowly feeding the elephant of bitterness that was always in the room from a divorce I had no part in. I'll never understand how kids can be treated like objects to be won and still prefer that to being treated like...normal kids.

I will never fully grasp that, or why this whole situation made me angry, and bitter over things I couldn't control, over children that wanted very little to do with me.

For my own sanity, I did block her so I wouldn't continue...but it still hurts.

Despite trying to give these kids normalcy, it still hurts as a woman...as a mom...that they still chose the uncertainty of their biological mother over my husband and me.

Call it whatever you want...but coming to this realization hurts.

We allowed their biological mother to have full custody again for many reasons...but the biggest factor was that they wanted to go. They gladly went.

I really need to stop checking other people's Facebook profiles.

It turns me into a nosey, bitter person that I hate to see when I look in the mirror.

Tuesday, August 7, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 17

June 11, 2018

Last night, I realized that this week, the children and I have no required places to go. No summer camps(yet), no doctors appointments...nothing. While there are some things we could go to, I'm trying my best now to say "Nope, sorry. We're staying home." Especially after the filled to the brim week we had last week.

This morning, I walked out of my room and for a second, I tensed up. I'm so used to my mind going 100 miles a minute. As I moved from the living room to the kitchen, to the dining room, something my son said yesterday in the car came front and center to my brain.

"Hey...has anyone noticed how quiet our car ride is? The radio is way down and I can actually hear it."

The kids started discussing this. My stepkids, for whatever reasons, couldn't control the volume of whatever came out of their mouths. They always started a decibel higher than a normal tone and kept escalating until I escalated(yelled), then they went back to a higher decibel higher than normal. We repeated the process until what seemed like forever all day every day until they went to bed or I quit in exhaustion.

If I dared to even try and sleep in, my coming to the living room would be met with not actual whispers...whispers. The kids would be up- they had to be, no one could be expected to sleep the second either stepchild woke up. If you were in the same room, you'd have no choice- they'd mumble to themselves, play in the closet at full volume, or start calling another child's name until they awoke so they had someone to play with because they always needed someone to play with.

Waking up and expecting silence and hearing this instead constantly was sort of...unsettling. Creepy. It made me super uncomfortable and sort of rattled my nerves before the day even began.

But this morning...as I emerged, the tense feeling started...then went away. Sure there are birds in the trees surrounding our house and actual crickets that could be heard. But beyond that...nothing. No creepy "not whisper...whisper." No one yelling at a stepkid because they were playing and interrupted their sleep. No one calling one of my kid's name on autorepeat until they couldn't take it any longer and forced themselves out of bed to shut them up.

Just....nothing.

Silence.

Kid's actually...sleeping.

The house actually quiet.

The silence of not having stepkids.

Ahhhhh. 

I reheated a biscuit and some eggs from yesterday. Another milestone. No kids who still haven't fully processed we always have food emerging from the bedrooms playing 20 questions about breakfast.
No feeling that I'm sneaking food in my own home because if the stepkids even slightly liked it...they eat it quickly and until it's all gone. No having to turn off the microwave one second before it's done so I don't alarm them food is done and they burst into the kitchen acting like poor little starving kids(I know why they acted like this despite always being provided food here. But after 2 years it was very unnerving to have to still remind them we'll always have food.).

I sat down at the table and as I worked on relaxing, I slowly ate my food, drank my coffee, sipped my water.
I didn't need to rush.

No one was looking at my food or drinks like a vulture, ready to pounce with "Can I eat that/drink that if you don't want anymore?" 's or "I'll take it!" quickly screamed after declaring I'm full(again...don't know why- I always tried to cook more than enough so this wouldn't be a child's version of "Hunger Games").

Just...eating and drinking.

In silence.

At ease.

Relax.

Ahhhhhhhh.

It's so funny how much we take for granted until it's taken from us or we have no idea if it'll ever return to us again.

Then the little things become sacred.

The natural rhythms, once returned to, become holy.

The moments of silence become truly sanctifying.


Friday, August 3, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 13

June 7th, 2018

Yesterday, my youngest and I met with a family for a park date. The mom is awesome and her kids are great.

However, after watching her interact with her children...I noticed her teeter between a parenting style I'm familiar with and one I was sort of...flabbergasted by. I couldn't figure out why she bounced between one and then moments later, the radical opposite.

I also couldn't initially figure out why when she went to the radical opposite...it rubbed me the wrong way. Her children were roughly the same age as mine, but she was taking more time and depth to explain things than what I thought was needed.

I usually don't get into nitpicking parenting styles, because largely I know it's none of my business and at the end of the day, we're all just trying to raise not crappy kids to non-jerk adults. Plus, we're and I know if I open myself to criticizing someone else's ability to parent, then I can have the tables turned fast and...I've done my fair share of parenting mistakes. I always half joke/half seriously say to my kids their 18th birthday present is going to be 1 year of therapy because I know I didn't do everything right.

So, as long as the kids aren't jerks and the parents are semi-decent people...you do what works best. My opinion isn't going to do jack squat to raise your kids any better than the people who have raised them much longer than my 3-second opinion.

*Steps off soapbox*

Anyways...the more I saw her interact, the more agitated I got. I actually had to stop myself and really say "What is wrong with you?!?"

After the park date and on the drive home, I allowed myself to marinate in thought. Why did that bug me? Why should it?

Then, halfway to home, it hit me.
It agitated me...
...because she was me.

Before I had my stepkids, I was semi-confident in my ability to parent. I knew my foundational rights and obligations. I knew how to get any given point across to each child, I was pretty sure how to love up on each kid in a way they could understand, and I was okay with my kids being a part of most decision-making processes that occurred in our family.

My kids...I may be jaded, but...they're freaking awesome little humans. *shrugs*

Then...I got my stepkids.
"Treat them no different than your own. Treat them as though they are your own."
That's the advice I got when talking with others. I have them the same love, same way to make a point, same ability to help in the family's decision-making process.

Imagine my shock when they did not become awesome little humans. Imagine my horror as I was told multiple times their mother was better, I'm a horrible human being and I'm overbearing.

Imagine my relief when some of their irrational behavior was given a diagnosis...only to feel anger when another woman looked at me like I didn't know what I was talking about because although I was doing her job, I couldn't POSSIBLY know them even a fraction as well because they didn't exit out of my vagina.

Imagine having two groups of children and trying so hard to mesh them into one solidified group...only to be told constantly(through actions, words,etc.) that you must treat them differently, you can't parent them fully, you aren't legally allowed to do...anything.

My friend's parenting style was best described as "walking a fine line of eggshells", and the only reason I knew the name of it was due to the fact that I had to parent my stepkids the exact same way.

I can't speak for my friend(she has a different reason for parenting that way), but I know for myself after 13+ years of doing life with my own children...this parenting style sucked. I HATED having to do it.

I left that park date with two revelations-
1. I never want to be that mom again.
(Again, I'm NOT down talking my friend. I relate SO MUCH to her struggle and have been in her shoes, so I am in NO WAY saying her parenting style is wrong. I know why she does what she does and as a mom when has been there, I get it.)
2. I went a full day without outwardly mentioning my stepkids. Never said their name, never brought them up in conversation. As my friend was sharing her family's story, I was very tempted because our family's story is very similar to hers, BUT I didn't and it felt downright wonderful!




























Thursday, August 2, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 12

June 6th, 2018

Yesterday, a good friend of mine asked me about my stepkids. She knew of our situation leading up to the end of the (home)school year, but we hadn't been in touch since. I haven't posted much of anything on social media about my feelings since their departure, either, so she was trying to keep the conversation going and asked.
I told her what I had been telling those closest to me who had asked...it's bittersweet.

Despite them wanting to go back and everyone agreeing over it, a small part of me wishes it could have worked out. That it(the whole situation) didn't take the huge toll on our marriage and relationship with my own children that it did. That it wasn't such a huge shift in my thought patterns. That those kids didn't have such an intense chaotic presence about them.

As we continued talking about our families adjusting to a new season of change(she had taken some steps in homesteading, both of us feeling "kinda" done with homeschooling for the summer,etc.) she paused for a moment and a perplexed look crossed her face.
"Do you have somewhere else to be today?" She asked mid-conversation.
"No. Why?" I said.
"You've been checking your phone for the time a lot the past few minutes," She replied.
"Oh." I said, laughing nervously. "I hadn't even noticed I was doing it. Sorry!"
She took a deep sigh and her shoulders relaxed. "It must be nice,"
"Hmm?"
"I was just thinking...it must be nice for you to not have to worry about rushing home to be in time for the school bus or them anymore. To actually have no time limit to rush back home. To sit here and talk with us as long as we're all here."

This woman came into my life knowing me no other way. When we met, I was tense and always bringing up how much time I could spend before having to go to meet the stepkids coming off the school bus.

Today, we had (with other homeschool moms) spent almost three going on four hours at the playground.

I looked at her, her body relaxing as she said these things. I looked at the other moms, some who knew our situation and some who didn't. But all were totally at ease and looked like they had nowhere to be beyond here.

I know it seems stupid, but...I hadn't realized how much of a toll having my stepkids affected all this. How it didn't just impact me and my little tribe, but my extended circle as well. I didn't realize until I saw her body going from tense to relaxed and at ease how much those kids and their circumstances came out of my mouth.
I didn't realize their chaotic atmosphere had spilled so much over into my own presence that it had affected those who interacted with me.

As the conversation flowed and other women jumped in, I noticed as soon as the conversation came back to my stepkids, for some reason I started stuttering and repeating words. My speech and heart quickened. When the hell did THIS start happening?!

I'm no Casanova when it comes to verbal communication, but I never sounded so...nervous or jittery at the initiation of a topic.

I realize now it's been going on for almost a year now. I also realize I'm not the only one whose speech has changed. My youngest daughter has taken to speaking at a ridiculously fast pace. My son has started to project his voice. My oldest daughter has taken to mumbling things under her breath then sarcastically going "Hmm....what? I didn't say anything." My husband has been speaking to himself-loudly, I might add- outside when he goes out to smoke. He'd be practicing what he'd say before coming back in and saying it to me or whoever.

All this because two kids came and dictate conversations- by getting louder and louder, by always rudely redirecting the conversation to topics they wanted to talk about.

I hadn't realized it, but all of us had a default coping communication mechanism to even so much as get a word in.

As another mom shared her struggles with her oldest daughter, she said something that described my realizations perfectly(when referring to her own child)-
"She's like...a vortex. She can enter the room and within minutes, everyone's attention is on her. It has to be. My other children remarked, 'I don't always like it when she's home because she takes all of you and dad's attention.' She has a victim mentality...but it's always about her. Always."

Being about to look back and take a breather, I realized....that was these kids.

I kept thinking once we got them the help they needed for so long but didn't receive due to their biological mother's mental instability...they'd mellow out, demand less, and essentially realize their place in our family. But the more help they got, the more attention they demanded of me, my kids, the school, my husband.

I tried really hard to redirect, to let them see they have priority but not the top priority. I understand they're finally getting long overdue help; but they aren't my #1 priority, as they shouldn't be. My own kids aren't even #1- God is.

However, whenever I(or my husband, or my children, or anyone else) tried to bring this realization to their atmosphere, it never bade well. They have absorbed their mother's victim mentality and selfish craving for attention at all times. As a result, when it wasn't about them, they did whatever they had to in order to make it about them once more.

Being aware of this makes my heart ache. Not only do I feel bad for my stepkids, but I feel bad for my family. We all allowed it and found coping mechanisms to deal with it. We aren't PTSD survivors- we SHOULD NOT need to have coping mechanisms to live and conduct ourselves in our own home!!!

But yet we did.

All because we opened our home up to two kids who we thought needed us, but through actions and words made it known they didn't want our help. They just wanted it to be about them, all day, every day. By any means necessary.

I just...I just can't believe I was so deep in, I hadn't realized it. I hadn't seen it.

I know they need help...but they just can't get it here.

I can't help fix what I didn't break.

I can only pray God helps me to fix my own little family...the ones that want to be here...before we break anymore.

Wednesday, August 1, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 11

June 5th, 2018

My house is actually staying clean!

I had forgotten what it's like to have to clean a room and, for the most part, it actually stays clean.

Remember how I mentioned my stepkids had an energy about them that is sort of...chaotic?
Well, this is another area that sort of follows them around. I know this one isn't their fault, either-based off the many times CYS was contacted by previous landlords everytime they moved, and the accounts of family and my husband of someone's housekeeping skills...let's just say, it was a learned habit.

They(the stepkids) have bouts where they want to clean, and if asked, one out of two will actually try to clean without getting distracted. But for the most part, they would usually leave things wherever and despite two years of reminders, bribes, incentives, etc. they were still treating this house like a dumping ground instead of an actual lived in home.

I tried really hard to extend some grace in this area. I know what it's like to grow up with slobby habits.

But it wasn't just slobby, it was health-hazard disgusting. Even my own children's "messes" are NOTHING compared to my stepkids.

With them no longer here, I have the mental and physical energy to keep up with my home again beyond survival mode. No more mad dart cleaning sprees, only focusing on the absolutely disgusting...now I can slow down, do a thorough deep clean. Days later, it still looks and smells clean. Isn't that great? :D

Yesterday, after an amazing day of re-arranging and deep cleaning w/ my youngest daughter, she asked if we could go to the playground. I habitually looked at the clock, in a panic. I stopped myself. Why did I do that? What time restraints do I have?!

There is no more calculating how much times until stepkids get home from school + drive time + actual time spent at any location, seeing if it's worth going. I don't have to do that anymore!

(Unfortunately, I still wake up in panic mode. I'm not sure how long it's going to take to undo that feeling :/ )

Baby steps, I guess. *shrugs*


Tuesday, July 31, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 10

June 4th, 2018

This morning's realization:
If I make time for my husband, he'll make time for himself(self-care). If a husband makes time for himself, he'll be a better everything(husband, dad, worker, etc.)

For the past two years, my husband, God bless him, has been placed on the back burner as I have tried to "fix" two kids I didn't break. I have them normal motherly love(which they weren't used to). I gave them structure and routines so they could feel some sense of control over their usually uncontrollable lives. I listened to them and tried to make their concerns and worries my top priority. They had been through a lot- they needed me.

But...this was all at the expense of everyone else. My husband's priorities were the first to go.

The little things I did for him...were suddenly too much on top of my maxed out to-do list. These kids needed a LOT of care, and the things I once found joy in doing for my husband suddenly became burdensome and robbed me of precious time ensuring the stepkids never-ending list of needs were met.

I remember the weeks it started. My husband is a very easy to please man- I hardly see him(due to his job), so the two things I always did to show him my love is-
1. Pack his meals for the week
2. Do his laundry/pack his duffle bag for the week.

I'd even send him a note in one or the other just to remind him I love him or a Bible verse of encouragement for the week ahead. Nothing major.

He never forced me to do it or asked- I just started doing these things because I wanted to. It made his time go a little more smoothly and it made him happier.

As time with my stepkids progressed, these things slowly went to the wayside. The man who would give me a goofy grin as he leaned into to give me a longer than usual kiss and remind me "he could have done it"(but I woke up earlier and beat him to it) was now waking up grumpy and with a ticking time bomb on his mind, as he methodically threw whatever food in the fridge he perceived to be his in his cooler. Once that was done, he'd grumble his way to the washing machine at the last minute because he forgot to do his laundry on his assigned day...then, in a hurry, grab whatever was dry enough out of the dryer, stuff it in his duffle bag, barely graze my lips(if I was awake and at the door to see him off, which happened less and less) and scramble out the door.

I knew I was neglecting him and his simple needs, but I was maxed out serving two unyielding and overwhelming children instead of my husband. Surely, my husband was a "big boy" and could handle these tasks himself...right?

I did his laundry today and I swear, he nearly fainted with shock. "But...but...it's not my laundry day!" he stammered out.
"I know," I said. But I want to do it."
Later that day, as I was furiously cleaning out my son's room and singing along to the pop music of my youth(don't judge me), he stopped playing on the Xbox, came in, and sheepishly asked me if I needed help.

Now it was my turn to nearly faint with shock!

I forgot this was how our marriage used to be...before we took full responsibility of the stepkids. I told him what I intended to do. Within minutes and despite having lingering back pain all weekend, he got his tools out and did what I thought wouldn't get done in weeks. My youngest was called in and we both helped-within a half hour we were all sweaty, but the task was done.

Later that night, he got off the Xbox again and asked me if we could play a board or card game. We played several rounds of dominoes with my youngest(she was the only one home this week). We then watched a family safe show and climbed into bed.

I felt warm and snuggly for the first time in a long time.

This morning, I heard his alarm go off. He started his tasks, but then I realized he hadn't showered. "Don't have time now," he grunted. He started to have a bad go of putting his vitamins in his pill box, spilling them everywhere.

"How about this," I said. "I'll make your meal bag and I'll put in your weekly vitamins, so you can shower before you head to work."
"Pain in my butt..." he goofy grin mumbled as he hopped in the shower."

He left the house practically floating away. Something tells me he's going to have a good work week *Wink*

I feel...I can't describe it fully. But I feel like the world is slowly righting itself again. I'm making my husband a top priority again; he's no longer on the back burner because I'm (slowly) starting to feel like my life isn't a stovetop anymore.

It's small and stupid to some, but...this was my world before the stepkids came. Seeing the look on my husband's face as I did these things reminded me of why I originally chose to do them.

And why I am restarting them again.

I really can't wait for the days ahead...and better ways to joyfully serve my man <3 .

Monday, July 30, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 9

June 3rd, 2018

Once again, I am asking myself, "What am I rushing for?". I set my alarm early with the intent of restarting a book on homemaking(I started it earlier this year and realized actually enforcing it wasn't going to happen so I put it down). I brewed a pot of coffee, put one load of laundry in the dryer, another in the washer, made my cup of coffee, grabbed the book and companion journal, flipped to the beginning, sat down, and...four pages and an almost empty coffee cup later, my heart racing, I looked at the time.

It was only 15 minutes later!

I also noticed last night I could take my time brushing my teeth. I quickly went through the motions as I was used to doing. For the past two years, I'm ashamed to admit, there were days I'd forget to brush at all(too busy instructing stepkids to brush/rebrush/re-rebrush/re-re-rebrush/re-re-re-for-the-love-of-God-rebrush their teeth), or that I'd wait until mine were uncomfortably dirty before finally offering my own some baking soda, fluoridated relief.

And even then, after harping and nagging two kids to do it so much, I would be too rushed/tired to give mine full attention. So, instead, I'd do what I was trying(and failing) to instruct them not to do- brush until they felt not as bad and keep going.

Last night, I spent five minutes really paying attention to the experience and evaluating the feel of each tooth. Did it feel clean- actually clean? Not just clean-ish?

(I know this sounds borderline OCD, but trust me- I'm not.)

So far, this is becoming the hardest part of my journey...forcing myself to slow down. Trying to remember rhythm not rushed routine. Savoring the little housewife/womanly things. Being in the moment instead of being in the last 5 moments while trying to get ready for the next 7 moments. I never fully realized this was even a problem until they left.

Funny how distance makes you aware of these things.

StepMom Undone, Day 6

May 31st. 2018

I went into my bathroom and the scent of actual soap greeted me! Not funky clothing, or urine smell, or "I just pretended to bathe but all I did was splash water on myself" smell- actual soap smell!!

Also, my house is actually staying clean!

Do you know how happy this makes me?!

I'm not sure if it was their special needs, rebellion towards me, or what- but I taught them over the course of multiple weeks and printed/laminated charts on how to take care of their personal hygiene properly- they still
would come out appearing wet but not actually smelling clean. My house reeked of their body odors to the point that no sooner did I clean and get rid of the smell, it'd be back as soon as they came back into the house.
Please Note- 
For anyone who says "why didn't YOU just wash them?"...these kids were 10 and 7 when we had custody of them full-time. Even after 2 years, I never felt comfortable fully bathing children-mine or otherwise- past the age of 4 or 5. I understand kids just learning may not always bathe to an adult's standard, but to me, by 7 a kid should, for the most part, have it down(unless they have long hair or something). Despite me trying, these kids couldn't and sometimes would proudly proclaim they wouldn't wash correctly. They had no physical disability preventing them from bathing properly, and despite trying very hard(and being human and failing at it) to be patient about it, I did often lose my cool about it to no avail. 

Thursday, July 26, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 5

May 30th, 2018

Today, the first thing that I felt I needed to write about was the word "hurry". After two years with two special needs undiagnosed children, "hurry" has been a frequent visitor to my vocabulary. The children were used to swinging from one chaos to the next, with adults only notifying them when it became obvious that things were changing.

When they moved here, that mentality and overall atmosphere/energy came with them. I never realized how rhythmic and yet predictable my family's days were until these two children came in.

We tried to give them routine, predictability...but at the expense of "hurry!" constantly coming out of my mouth.

Because they didn't receive coping skills via various therapies( or at least, the start of them) up until they came to live with us. it felt like a constant battle to get them to do the most basic things in a timely manner. When it came to appointments to be made, "hurry, hurry, hurry!" was always on my heart.

The past few days, my heart and body have felt in limbo. You can't switch off two years of "hurry!" like you do a light bulb. As a result, I'm finding myself saying out loud "SLOW DOWN!" and "What am I rushing for?!?". I have forgotten what it's like to wake up without my phone screaming at me to do so, without panicking that I didn't tell the stepkids to do XYZ yesterday which will mean we'll be behind on something today, without feeling like adrenaline is the first chemical to greet my bloodstream.

I'm no longer seeing my home as a jail sentence anymore, either. My children vocally made it known before they preferred to stay home during times when the stepkids would not be here. In my frantic state, I'd let them. It wasn't until they left, I found myself doing the same- just wanting to be home.

It's not because we're lazy- we're not. It's just...until the stepkids came, our home was our safe haven. The world wasn't always kind, but home...home was our place, our comfort, our loving kindness.

Yes, we go out, but doing so always meant doing something, and when the stepkids were here, "doing" was all day, every day. From the time they got up until their bodies forced them to sleep, they were "doing, going, talking, moving" without a pause. They were also right in my kid's face all the time, and my kids just needed moments to NOT do- and they weren't getting many. As a result, any time they had a chance to be in the loveliest of places, where quiet could be heard, and expectations to not do...they took it.
I would come home to a silent house and kids smiling- until the stepkids followed behind me. Then the smiles would leave their eyes, a fake "plastic" smile(if you've ever worked in customer service, you know what kind I'm referring to) put on, and a shrinking inside that only a mother can see. A shrinking inside I knew too well.

It's funny, really...I've been on support pages for stepmoms and the ones who felt like they have their crap together always tell us who feel as though we don't the same thing- don't let your stepkids/their biological mother interfere with your marriage/home/etc. If you don't let them rule your life, then they have no power to ruin your day/life/year/etc.

However...I'm a firm believer God put a...chemical? desire? hormone? urge? in all women to want to nurture anything that needs it. You don't see as many crazy cat men as you do women, right? Stepmoms see hurting children and feel an overwhelming urge to nurture them. To help kids that aren't theirs. Sometimes we know exactly what we're getting into; most times, we don't. We assume the best and give our best. But when the biological mother is dripping with chaos and toxicity(for whatever reasons), the stepchildren see you as a servant and not a parental figure; when court dates and orders are thrown in your face, and the man you married becomes a totally different person...you don't see that until you're chin deep in trying to bring some healthy, some nurture, some kind of expression of love and normalcy...into these kids. Kids that swing between "I want this," and "I want to go back with mom. I don't want to live here anymore."

I don't want anyone to dare think I don't love these kids. While I may be the first to admit I don't always like them(to be fair I don't always like anyone, all the time- they are no exception), I do love them deeply. I'm in no way trying to bad mouth/make fun/mock them, or their biological mother.

So why do I write these posts?

Because I want to tear down the stereotypes and stigma behind stepmother. I want stepmoms to know it's totally okay to feel these things. I want need a place to let out years of mental and emotional damage that came directly from me being a full-time caregiver to children that weren't mine and didn't always want the help.

I don't understand how society will tell us, applaud us, when we walk away from an abusive relationship, but not when we distance ourselves from something almost as close(or worse than)-a toxic co-parenting situation and/or children who want nothing to do with us or use us to hash out all the hurt they experience because of a divorce they had no fault in.

People in abusive relationships will be told they did what was best for them, and people are so quick to give them help if they ask(as they should!). However, when it comes to stepmothering, we are disgraced for feeling anything less than "The Brady Bunch". We are told we are bad or wrong if things don't work out in the dynamic of a blended family. We have little resources and, unless we know another woman going through it, no advice is a blanket solution to our problems.

I didn't expect to have a high conflict woman involved in my everyday affairs. I didn't expect special needs children that weren't given any type of help/aid/therapy and were behind in several areas when we got them. I didn't know people could smile and seem perfectly sane one minute and be a total monster, neglecting their own flesh and blood the next.

I was told to "treat them like they're your own and you won't have any problems.",  "as long as you put what's best for the children first, they'll thrive and you can co-parent peacefully!", and "these kids have been through a lot, so treat them with kid gloves."

Being a stepmom in a toxic co-parenting situation is a few steps shy(in my instance, in others it IS a full-on) an abusive relationship. You have someone dictating your every move. You can't plan an event without being made to feel horrible for doing or even thinking about it. You have someone constantly stalking you/your spouse on social media( or in real life). You have no free speech, as you have to watch and over analyze every single word, lest the stepkids report it back to their mother in hopes she can use it against your husband in court. Or someone else relays it back to their mother, fanning her flames of bitterness and resentment for your very existence in her children's/ex-husband's life.

When you crave time away from it all, you're made to be guilted for it, because "You signed up for this when you married a man with kids!". Sometimes, in some instances, the kids are truly crappy because of the blow life has dealt them but you can NEVER call them out on it because there will be others ready to tear you apart limb from limb for saying so. In some instances, there are even physical altercations between a stepmom and a biological mom/stepchildren(and I only wish I was kidding).
But we are made to feel bad. We are told it's our fault if we aren't getting the Brady Bunch scenario in our own homes.

Excuse my language, but...that is total and absolute bullshit.

That's why I'm writing these posts.

Because after two years of trying, I'm coming undone.

I have to undo everything that's happened, every emotion felt, every panicked thought that's crossed my mind, every word said.

I have to undo my stepmothering, so I can remember what NOT being a stepmom first and foremost feels like. And I need other stepmoms to know they're doing the same it's okay.

Until Next Time,
~Mama Jenn

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

StepMom Undone, Day 1

Greetings, Chaotics!
I wrote a tiny series of posts on my thoughts and feelings as our family transitioned back from a family of 7 to a family of 5. This is the first entry.

May 25, 2018

Last night was our first night with no stepkids. All day yesterday, I wrestled with emotions. Are we really doing the right thing> Will we have two kid-like adults on our doorstep in 10 more years, manipulating us to let them live here because they can't find a job, can't afford college, and have victim-mentality scars because of all this? Is this a dream or a joke- will they come back at the end of summer and our home will feel like a prison again with three unruly wardens controlling our every move?

But, as the afternoon progressed, my mood shifted as I watched my own children. They kept asking "How much longer?" as though they were little kids with no internal knowledge of when Christmas was.

Except it wasn't a Christmas countdown- it was a countdown for when we'd all be free, and the stepkids would be back with their biological mother. For good.

I kept forgetting how much them(the stepkids) being here took a toll on them(my kids). Lord bless them.

As the time drew closer, I realized my own heart shifting from heavy to light. Happy, joyous songs came to my mind as I packed the stepkids bags. I didn't put their belongings in trash bags like their biological mother and grandmother did. Didn't they know what they conveyed by doing that? Treating them and their things like trash? They AREN'T  trash! Despite everything their mother put us through, despite my current, shifting mood...they were still blessings, gifts from God. Maybe not gifts for me, or this household, but...still, gifts nonetheless.

I couldn't afford to buy them nice suitcases like I had wanted to, so I used what we did have- a bunch of Christmas and birthday gift bags I had in storage. On our way to drop them off, someone saw the kind of bags we carried(but unaware of the content), and loudly proclaimed, "Wow! I bet someone's going to feel awful special!!" I hope despite the circumstances, they understand for their seasons here they were, at least some of the time, a gift.

Now, they get to be their mother's gift Lord willing once and for all.

After I dropped them off and went to get celebratory donuts, I couldn't stop sighing deeper than I had in a long time and exhaling with a huge smile. "Ahhhh, we're FREE."

Last night, two things I hadn't thought of were now possible. As we started to get ready for family TV time, my son posed a question.

"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"So if  J and L(Stepkids) aren't here...do we have to go to bed by 9? Since it's summer?"

My mind reeled from that question. For two years, we had two special needs kids that needed a routine, a schedule. They needed 9-10 hours of sleep to catch up from the lack of sleep they got every other weekend going to their (non-routine) biological mother's house.

My kids and I...we don't do routines. We did it for them(the stepkids), but none of us actually thrived on it but the stepkids. We do certain things in a certain order...but in a routine, it's pretty rigid. It's pretty much a set time or else they couldn't move on.

With a rhythm(what my kids and I are used to), it gives the kids a guideline but without the rigid time restraints. And it's grace-filled and very flexible. You start at the top and if you don't finish the daily list, you start where you stopped at the previous day. My kids were raised to do this while ensuring at the least the basic functions were done(eating, bathing, etc.). However, my stepchildren were not. Without set time limits, we found out after many weeks of trying they would wake up, eat one meal, and do nothing on their own.

Anyways...with my son's question, the wheels turned in my head as the realization dawned on me.

"Well...no, I guess we don't have to," I replied after a long pause.

"Can we...watch TWO episodes tonight?" My son asked, his eyes growing wide at the potential.
"Well, crud. I guess I hadn't thought of that, either! I guess so. Why not? As long as you go to your room when we're done. You don't have to go to sleep, but you can have quiet time until you're tired."

Everyone got quiet.
"What?" I asked, freaked out but their uneasy quietness.
"Quiet time." My son said in a dreamy tone. "We can have...quiet."

With two stepchildren that have ADHD, my kids didn't get much quiet in their rooms. The stepchildren would mumble to themselves or talk to my kids even if they asked them not to until their bodies just crashed and went to sleep. My stepson, who shared a room with my son, was especially guilty of this. My son was going to sleep tonight without having my stepsons ramblings be the last thing he heard.

I don't know why, but I wanted to cry at his realization of this. He sounded so blissful...so awed, after two years, that he wouldn't be awake until the stepson's body thrust him and his nonstop mouth to sleep. He could sleep when he(my son) wanted to.

It was a quarter till eleven when we finished both episodes. The kids gave me their hugs and kisses and went to their rooms.

As I climbed into my own bed, I had realization number two. My door was closed and I was wearing pajama pants. I quickly set to change both, stripping off my pants and opening my door wide. I ran to the kids' room, this time with my own Christmas-like wonder.
"Hey, guys!!! You can leave your doors open and take off your pants! J and L aren't here!!!"
Another round of realization silence.
"I'm getting NAKED!!" my son joked.
"OHMYGAWSH, we really can go without pants!!" My oldest exclaimed.

Again...when we got the stepkids, I had to start closing my door. Because my stepson has a pornography addiction from before we received custody, I had to put strict guidelines about devices in place. Everyone returned their devices to my room every night. He had, on several occasions early on, sneak into my room at night if the door was left open and get a device to look at porn. After several times of this happening, I started closing(and then, after him STILL sneaking in, locking) my bedroom door at night. He eventually learned to pick my lock with a butter knife, so I also started propping something(usually a box) against my door. If he opened it, the noise of him tripping over the box would be loud enough to startle me awake.

Now I didn't have to worry about that!!!

The pants....well, it sort of tied into his pornography issue. We didn't want to tempt him with anything by exposing more skin than we had to. I know it's just legs...but still. Also, he and his sister would gawk and make us all feel extremely uncomfortable. Not because they don't practice nudity at their biological mother's house, but....because our skin is a different color. It's not meant to be racist, it was just...different to them. Because they weren't taught to stare, they stared. HARD. It was very awkward and uncomfortable for all four of us. So we just kept our doors closed and our pants on to avoid the whole ordeal.

You know how people say America's one of the freest countries in the world? Well, I've lived here all my life, but....having those three revelations last night, it really dawned on me.

We are truly free.

Until Next Time Chaotics,
~ Mama Jenn

Monday, April 9, 2018

Doing the Right Thing...Just Not Right for You

Greetings Once Again, Chaotics!

I'd like to give you some long, lengthy apology and justified reason excuse as to why I'm not writing consistently.
I have heard from several of you, and please let it be known...I hear you. I'm sorry.

I'm also going to apologize in advance if this entire post sounds super-vague and confusing. As much as I'd like to give you my usual, unfiltered blog post...this time, I cannot because it involves people that I don't have permission to write about.

For quite some time, there has been a bit of uneasiness in my heart and my home. I had noticed it going on in several close friends lives as well. We are waiting for something good to come because life was dealing us an awful hard blow(or five hundred). We all had different circumstances and situations, but the outcome was the same...lots of frustration, lots of questioning God, lots of anger/depression/tears/anxiety over what's next.

In my own situation, I can tell you that *it* was causing a HUGE strain on my family life and marriage. I've cried more in the past few months than I have my entire life. There were MANY times I cried out to God to do SOMETHING...ANYTHING...because if He didn't give me some kind of answer to the questions on my heart, my marriage would be over. The pressure of *it* was just too much.

This alone made me cry even more. I freaking LOVE my husband, I used to LOVE our life, and I was SO CERTAIN that everything we did was for the best for our family.

For the record....no, there are no drugs, abuse, or adultery involved.

My husband kept saying this was the right thing. My brain knew it must be the right thing. People are benefitting from this. It wasn't us, but...people somewhere were benefitting from this.

But...our marriage was starting to feel like a wrestling tag team instead of a marriage under the guise of the right thing. My husband felt like he was trying to please five masters, and no one was ever happy. I was being wrongfully placed under the headship of...not my husband, and as a result, I felt bitter. We were barely talking, and it was guaranteed that there were only a few days of polite speech before the arguments came. Words were exchanged. Feelings were hurt. Apologies would eventually come, but the problem of what started the argument in the first place was always there, unanswered. Simmering in the background of our hearts, waiting for another few days before it was brought front and center once again.

How can the right thing....bear such rotten fruit in us?

There were weeks we didn't speak. I largely did this because I didn't like the words *I* was saying when the arguments came anymore. I'm pretty sure there are many verses in the Bible that says a wise person holds their tongue. Well, I won't be the first to admit if I'm wise, but I was just tired of the hurt- being hurt and hurting him.

Once we did finally speak, the tears flowed. As we continued talking about *it*, we realized we were both stubbornly doing something we perceived as right(and to most people's standards...it would be right), but it just wasn't right for us. We both admitted everything within us screamed no, to not do it, but we had been under the impression it was our flesh that wanted nothing more than the easiest route to take. We refused to be THOSE people...the people that see a wrong and do nothing to make it right.
Hypocrites.
No, we were going to do the right thing.
....even if it destroyed our marriage.

I have no Bible verse to support this off the top of my head, but sometimes....we humans, in our limited wisdom, will see a wrong and want to right it. It doesn't matter what it is, or what religious background you adhere to. There is something in all of us that just wants to always do the right thing. We don't dare to think that by doing what we perceive is right, that anything could go very, VERY wrong for us.

Christians are not immune to this. I would dare to say that not only are we not immune to it, but we are the people more prone to it.

Why?

I can't speak for every Christian in my answer, but for myself, it is largely due to the many times I have focused on verses that say DO THE RIGHT THING without really going into the DO WHAT GOD CALLS YOU TO DO bit.

But...isn't always doing the right thing also doing what God calls you to do?

Simply put- no.

God will not always do what we perceive as the right thing AND at what we perceive to be the right time.

In our situation, we were called to do the right thing...for a season. But when the season was up, we kept riding the righteous right train. We unraveled more and more reasons why we must press on because clearly, the alternative was the WRONG thing. We justified it to each other and to ourselves...without the other's input and, I'm ashamed to say, without asking God what the next step was or if this was still the right thing for us to keep doing.

Simply put, we were doing what was right...in our own eyes. And when the fruit bore from it was rotten, we looked to God questioning and doubting each other and ourselves. We wondered if we were horrible people for thinking the alternative was better when we knew(again, in our own eyes), it was not.

This for me is so, so hard to admit. Because I had people...many people in my life, who unfortunately didn't know our full struggle with *it* tell me constantly we were doing the right thing. Heaping praise and giving us many pats on the back that we were doing such a right thing(even though many of them would then whisper they could never do it..but, oh, we're practically saints for doing it because it is SO RIGHT!)!

I can't speak for my husband, but for myself, it seemed as though this praise, this encouragement from others would usually come when everything within me was screaming "STOP IT!". I took that as a sign that, even though I wasn't consulting God on it, maybe God is giving me the encouragement I need to just keep doing it.

Looking back now, I see that it was not that at all. It was the selfish part of me, the part that LOVES to hear people see MY hard work and clap. Because let's be real here- these people weren't clapping in my direction when I was doing what God had called me to do for the long haul.

"There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death."~ Proverbs 16:25

I really don't understand why God, knowing how passionate I can become, would allow something that would by all the world's standards be the right thing to do....and only allow it for a season. I kept thinking.

Oh.

Wait.

After talking...really talking, to my husband, we both came to the conclusion above at the same time. It's like God took us, in that car, and mid-sentence knocked us upside the head and said "DUH, DUM-DUMS!!"

We hadn't been seeking His will.

We hadn't been asking Him if this was His Will for the long-term.

We hadn't involved Him in the process really....at all!

And guess what?

We got what happens when humans do that....we almost killed our marriage over *it*!

We did what we perceived to be right in our own minds. We cherry-picked scripture to further solidify it MUST be right.

But...we forgot.

When dealing with individual souls. futures, plans...

EVERY TIME...

God knows better than we do! He puts things, people, events into our paths. And not everything is meant to be in our own lives, hearts, atmospheres...forever! Sometimes, even though it seems right...it's not always right for us...forever!

And that's okay!

We may not at the time always understand. It may take years of wondering, questioning why we can't keep plowing through Rightsville even though it's very, very right.

In the end, though, I have learned. My husband has learned. We have both grown.

* Depending on God really is a moment by moment thing. Not just a solid yes or a solid no forever. If we do not as a couple continually ask God what's the next step, we WILL fall flat on our face each and every single time, even if it's while in the midst of doing the right thing.

* Listen to that still, small voice. Sometimes, God says "NO" or "Not forever", and we aren't God. Trying to change His plan to fit with ours never ends well. NEVER.

*Pride comes before a fall. If you aren't following God's will, aren't asking Him what's the next step, marching to beat of your own accordion, then it doesn't matter how right whatever you're doing is...you are being prideful, and you will fall. Hard. And it will hurt. A lot.

There are many things that will, to you and everyone around you, appear to be right. You may find verses to back up or justify your stance.

However, PLEASE remember what I've said here.

By doing the right thing, even God has not called you to it....or hasn't called it to you forever...will produce bad fruit. It will result in doing the right thing that's just not right for you.

Sometimes, God calls other people do it and by insisting you are the right person for the job, you may find yourself destroying relationships or future ministries.

Don't be that person.

Accept the fact that doing the right thing may indeed look like NOT doing anything, or doing the WRONG thing.

Even the wrong thing will be turned right in His hands, and His time.

Only if we let go of what we insist must be right.

Until Next Time,

~Mama Jenn



Sunday, March 11, 2018

StepMom Chronicles, Part 1: "You Knew What You Were Getting Into..."

Greetings, Chaotics!
Today, I thought I'd start a series of posts about my (mis)adventures as a stepmother.
This week, I'm dealing with an often said thing to stepmothers when they hit a point of frustration.
"You knew what you were getting into..."

Let me start by first saying I was am an overachieving fool. I'd also like to add that I myself am a stepchild.
When I married my husband, I assumed things were pretty normal. He got married, he had two children, he got divorced. When we met, he was in the thick of the divorce part. I was his friend back then, so hearing him get frustrated about his "crazy ex-wife" didn't affect me. I was an ear to listen and vent to and to offer my own perspective. Besides, don't all men call their exes crazy women at some point?

When things started to get serious between us, I asked him more about his children. I talked to them a handful of times. They both sounded shy, so I didn't press anything. After all, I was this weird black lady talking to their dad on Skype and over the phone from 2,000 miles away. Being a shy child myself, I could understand their inability to warm up to me in those circumstances.

When we started talking(and working towards) meeting and getting married, again...I assumed things would just fall into place. Eventually. I thought back to evolving relationship with my own stepmother. I initially was shy, and kinda freaked out that another woman was spending SO MUCH TIME with my dad. Then, she was just...sort of there. I didn't really think about it as good or bad, I didn't question why she was there or why I had to interact with her. I was a child; I was told not told to respect all adults and obey all rules. She was an adult and I tried to respect and obey her. I don't recall many times(until my teen years, when we had to start living together) that I ever disobeyed or told her I didn't like her. I didn't like her(because my mom didn't like her), but I was a kid-my opinion meant diddly squat to adults.

When we had to live together, I(in all my teenage wisdom) saw my dad being "controlled" by her. My dad was a cool guy- he always bought me things when he thought to and he paid his child support. I mean, surely SHE had to be the problem. There's no way my dad could be that much of a jerk to me without her pulling some invisible strings to make it so. Plus, I was hurting from the loss of my own mother(she passed when I was 13). I wanted someone, anyone to take out my frustration and confusion on, and like I said...she was just...there.

Then, I became an older teen/young adult. Our relationship was hit or miss, but it was overall better. I still thought I knew everything and she was just trying to fill the space in my heart that arrived when my mom passed. Sorry, nope, I don't WANT another mom, I had one. Flaws and all, she was amazeballs and you're not(all the time, anyway).

Then...I became an adult. She was still "my stepmom", but our relationship improved. I became a mom, she treated my kids as her grandbabies and I didn't fight it. She and my dad did their best to be there for my kids, and as a single mom, I needed any and all help I could get. She jumped in eagerly during holiday meals at my house to do the dishes, or stir whatever was on the stove or baste whatever was in the oven. She recorded shows that my kids wanted to watch but couldn't because of our tight finances. She and my dad bought them stuffed toys year round and Christmas presents, birthday presents, and "just because" presents. I'd talk to her for hours on end, about my budding faith, about mom life, about things going on in my life. She rarely criticized me for doing stupid things and defended/pleaded for me when my dad was telling me(in his harsh voice) that I was screwing up AGAIN. She called me "daughter" and I didn't fight it.

So, excuse me for thinking that my relationship with my own(soon-to-be) stepchildren would be just like that. I thought I AM a stepkid so I know EXACTLY what I am "getting myself into, thank-you-very-much."

Except.....I had NO FREAKING CLUE.

My first encounter with my stepchildren was, at first, what I expected. I met their mother, I saw them for the first time face-to-face, it was a lot of awkward silences/nervous laughter at the wrong times, and looking down at feet for me.

I went to greet my stepson. I tried to shake hands with him. I knew what it was like to force physical contact from a relative you can't stand, I didn't want to be that person. I thought a handshake would be non-invasive.
"Hi, remember me? I'm Jenn. How are you doing?"

He looked at my hand like it was a freak of nature. He looked at his mom. Back to my freak of nature hand, just hanging there in mid-air. He looked down at the ground.

"My mom says you're not my REAL mom. That you're JUST marrying my dad. And I don't HAVE to call you mom or anything else. And you're not replacing MY MOM. You're not going to be MY MOM."

Uhm.

I looked over to their mother. She sneered at me.

Well, there goes my notion of The Brady Brunch. 

Back home, an adult would have slapped a child for talking so rudely to an adult. Here, nothing was done.

Toto, I don't think we're in PA anymore...

That entire summer was filled with lots of ugly crying calls to my husband from the bathroom, lots of "hidden stash" chocolate consumed(and not all of it from me), lots of screaming, and lots of feeling "WHAT THE HELL DID I GET MYSELF INTO?!?!"

No. I did NOT know what I was getting myself into. And I'm not alone- most stepmothers today say the same thing. This quote is a horrible quote to say to a hurting, confused stepmother. None of us had a clue as to what we were getting into.

Sure, there are(so I am told) adults out there that marry, have kids, get divorced, get remarried and everything is peachy-keen. Co-parenting is done swimmingly. There's rarely a disagreement, the kids know their place, and adults think and interact with the best interest of the children. If there's any anger towards one parent's way of doing things, it's resolved or discussed without one person feeling attacked. Stepmother and Biological Mother even become friends, taking pictures together with hashtags along the lines of "this is how adults do it" or "This is what REAL co-parenting looks like".

But for a bulk of us...it is not this way. For whatever reasons, Biological mothers or fathers are bitter about how the divorce(or split-up) went down and use the kids at every opportunity to make their former spouse miserable. They're hurt their relationship didn't work and take them to court for EVERYTHING. Or use the kids as instruments of power, to control their ex-spouse and their new partner.

Kids are left in the dark. They don't know why their parents split or want to blame it on one parent unjustly. Most of these kids don't get therapy(and trust me, some NEED it) or have a healthy way of expressing their frustrations. They are transported from one house to another, never really getting comfortable, truly comfortable in either. They have to abide by two sets of house rules, two ways of life, and they can't always keep it straight which rule/way of life is for which parent/house.

No. I did NOT know what I was getting myself into.

I know if people who come from divorce in these sort of situations were honest...COMPLETELY honest, there would be no second(or third or whatever) marriages. Any potentials would have been run off and freaked out by their dynamics.

I had NO CLUE that my husband's ex-wife was ACTUALLY freaking crazy. Not just the "I can't stand that woman, she's nuts!" crazy, but the "oh, she's medically confirmed as bipolar and sometimes chooses not to take her medications and does illegal things from time to time" sort of crazy.
(and please...before I get hate mail from people that are bipolar and "I'm clearly stereotyping and how dare me", unless you've lost you're kids three times and have CPS knocking on your door at least once every two to three years, sit down. If you can relatively function as an adult on a regular basis and take your medications as prescribed without self-medicating with what our state considers an illegal drug, then I'm not talking to/about you. I'm talking about the one person I encounter that has it, NOT all of the people that have it. )

I had NO CLUE my stepchildren were being neglected, or that they were special needs. That first(and second) summer, I thought they hated me and (by their actions) letting me know it every chance they got. I wrongfully called them "little heathens" to my friends because I didn't know the extent of what they've gone through/the way they were processing the world. I didn't know there WAS such a thing as adults that didn't really make children a priority. I mean, I guess I did in the grand scheme of things. But those are the parents you usually see on the 6o'clock news, getting their kids taken away from them. Not, you know...being given visitation and summers together because well, that's their mom, whatareyagonnado?

No. I didn't know what I was getting into.

I had only seen step-parenting as a stepchild. And, my parents(and stepmother) did a whole lot of adulting, and adulting well, because I thought despite not liking each other, they shielded me from an awful lot. If there were fights between them, or disagreements, or bitterness, I rarely saw it. If my stepmother didn't like me because(let's be real here), I was a total BRAT, she hid it awfully well. I only recall one incident, when she called her relatives and spoke Spanish(which I don't speak fluently) in an angry tone after getting into a fight with my dad about something I did. If she cried and ate chocolate in the bathroom, I never knew it. If she ever wished someone, anyone would take me instead of her and my dad, I never heard it. If she ever wondered what she got herself into, she never voiced it within my earshot.

Please don't assume that when someone marries another person with a child/children, that they KNOW what they're getting themselves into. Just like people who decided "let's have a baby" or "let's get married"doesn't 100% know what they're getting into...step parents are no different. There are unspoken dynamics, there are messy, imperfect people(and more of them) involved. There is assumptions of how it's going to be, and expectations never fully met. There are sides of people never seen until thrust in certain situations-sometimes good, sometimes not. There are children one(or more) adults didn't raise or give birth to, and there's the expectation we're supposed to just get this internal instinct upon saying "I do" that these kids are supposed to feel JUST like ours, we're supposed to treat them as if they are our own(until the Biological mother finds out), when society is screaming at us every chance they get that they're not.

When becoming a step-parent, no one completely knows what they're getting themselves into. NO ONE.

So, please, stop saying this when a step-parent comes to you in frustration. It does nothing to help them feel better, and often times, makes us feel worse. We feel like we SHOULD of known without you telling us so. We feel terrible when we weren't handed whatever wisdom should of been given by the step-god-mother fairy upon putting on the ring. We often feel like we're the only ones sucking rocks at this, something must be wrong with US, because, look at so-and-so, they're totally nailing it and I'm totally NOT.

Instead, just listen. Be a good friend. Pray for us. Stepmothers need those more than your opinion of what knowledge we should have received beforehand. And by all means, if you ARE a step-parent and have some wisdom to impart, TELL US. Not in a condescending way, please; but an "I've been there and I can relate to your feelings" sort of way.

And most of all...give us chocolate.

I'm not speaking for EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US. There are poor unfortunate stepmothers that are allergic to the stuff.
Pray harder for those stepmothers.
But for the rest of us....having chocolate and tissues on hand helps.
Having a sympathetic ear to listen...helps.

Not throwing shade on their feelings by saying "You knew what you were getting into..." that REALLY helps.

Until Next Time,
~ Mama Jenn



Monday, January 1, 2018

WordS of the Year

Greetings once again, Chaotics!
Hope everyone is having a great start to the New Year!
Speaking of...have you decided on YOUR New Years Goals/ Resolutions/Word for the Year?

The past few days, I've had time to sit down and reflect on my word from last year. If you'd like a recap of 2016, as well as a more detailed explanation of what my word was, click here.
Last Year's Word was: Peace.
And, if I have to be honest....last year was anything but Peaceful, despite my effort and prayer!
(Keep an eye on my YT channel to find out why! I'll update this post when I upload it)

This year, as I thought and prayed...I realized I can't really give ONE word alone to my year. As much as I'd like to, each season...each month is different. I have different goals for each, and although the idea of just one word helps me to strive towards consistency throughout the whole year...call me crazy, but I need several words to further refine and redefine my life for an entire year!
(Clear as mud? Okay, great!)

With all that said...this season's word came to me as I answered a question on social media so others could get to know me better. As I looked back with longing of previous Winter's, I realized that we had NONE of that word this year. As I approached the end of Thanksgiving and the start of Winter holidays(my birthday, Winter Solstice, Christmas, New Years)....for the first time, I didn't feel the usual excitedness or joy that came with this time. I felt rushed, frazzled, and downright robotic(i.e.-going through the motions). On my birthday, I cried. Christmas came and went and the only thing I looked forward to was...it being over. New Year's Eve arrived and all I wanted to do was sleep right through it.
My home's atmosphere didn't feel the usual buzz of anticipation for this season, nor did it reflect it. The people within felt the overall uneasiness and responded accordingly.

It dawned on me that my heart, my home, my family...NONE of us were ready or prepared for the start of Winter, nor did we do the usual things that open our hearts to welcome the season. We were all waiting, restlessly, for the traditions that tell us this time is here. Because of everything surrounding our family, my brain was on autopilot and the traditions fell by the wayside. When I tried to start one, I was reminded we skipped a previous one, and we couldn't fully enjoy the one we were on because we did them out of order.

With the start of the New Year...I realized one word, one key element was lacking at the start of our Winter. That word is my word for the season: SAVOR.
We were restless because we weren't slowing down. Isn't that what Winter as a whole makes us do...slow down and savor the things within?
We can't inhale usual Winter treats...they're usually too hot for us to do so! If we didn't savor the cup of hot cocoa, or the cookie fresh from the oven, or the stew in the crock pot...we'd give ourselves third-degree burns!
If we don't slow down on Winter roads(we may not savor winter driving, and that's okay)...we'd cause an accident!
We can't rush through warming ourselves by the fireplace. We can't quickly set up the Christmas tree. Stories or memories of past Winters can't be read/said "Long story short edition". Traditions for this time of year are like fast food...there's no "drive-by edition".
Winter makes us SAVOR and slow down. Snow, cold, ice...they may be inconvenient to some, but to people like me, they are a reminder that this season was intended to be enjoyed at a less frantic pace. You simply cannot "GO GO GO" during Winter....our bodies, our minds, our souls(not to mention, most of our cars) are not designed to do so!

And as I thought about these things(and the seasonal theme of SAVOR)...another word came to mind for this month. As I reflected on my heart, I started to reflect on my home. Our home is a reflection, a mirror to which we can better see what's inside our souls.
What does my home reflect? Well, if I'm being honest(I am!), my home is reflecting CHAOS(and no, not the good kind that's the theme behind this blog). As a meme I saw once read:
"My Housekeeping Style is Best Described as "There Appears to Have Been A Struggle"".
Ain't that the truth! Last year, I said I wanted order and organization. However, adding two special needs children to our home this past year resulted in something FAR from order and organization! It resulted in an outward showing of the changes that happened within all of us, as we adjusted to these new additions...and not in a good way at ALL!
My home became a battleground of wits. It wasn't a home-it was a WARZONE! It was no longer a place of refuge from the world like it used to be. To see us nearing these four walls did NOT give me a sense of peace...it made me want to run the other direction!
What happened? Our house was no longer a HAVEN.
It lacked the love of homemaking I once had because I was up to my eyeballs in BUSY, NAGGING, and constant REMINDING. I felt like a firefighter in my own house...not trying to find ways to safely avoid fires, but just extinguishing one fire and waiting for the next. I woke up each morning in panic mode, and I went to bed each day feeling like I had done nothing more than keep the flames to a minimum.
My January word, as a result, is HAVEN. I am working towards many goals this month, but the central theme for it is returning my house back into a home; a haven, a place of refuge. I'm hoping and praying throughout this month that as I open myself to better organization and order within my home, the people within will do the same.
Granted...5 of these people ARE kids. But, that's why God gave us prayer, right?

SAVOR and HAVEN. Those are my words for the start of 2018.

What word(s) are Y'all working towards building up more of in your own lives? I'd love to hear about it!

Until Next Time,
  ~Mama Jenn