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 .
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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