The other woman

I've been writing this post for months but couldn't finish it. It's a sensitive subject. I don't want to be unkind and have worked really hard at trying to stay positive but this is the hard stuff, and a necessary evil in the job of caring for someone else's baby. This subject tends to be the majority of entries in my personal journal and so it only makes sense to have a post about it here. I have a good friend that is a foster momma and is struggling actively with this very thing (she is really the one that talked me into finally finishing this post). I have another friend that when her husband's ex starts causing a stink, she calls and tells me all about it because it's hard not to feel alone in your anger or negative feelings for that other woman. So for all you out there that may feel alone, I got your back. And please forgive me if this starts to feel a bit like a rant. That's probably why it has taken so long for me to write this.

Everybody has one but some are harder than others. Whether it is a ex girl-friend or ex-wife. Maybe it's a baby momma. The prior-women in your significant other's life. In most cases, if there is a a child involved, there is an other woman. For me, and for a lot of other moms like me, this can be one of the most difficult parts in being a step-mom. There are several parts to this so let me try to break it down.

Part 1: She hates me. In reality, I totally understand this. I don't know a mom out there that would love another women for taking over the main momma position. So in that sense, if I were her, I would hate me too. So, to the other mom, this is my defense, I'm just trying to help you out. I'm sure there are some evil step-moms out there who are trying to push the birth moms out of the picture, but that's not me. Sure it would be EASIER without you but that's not reality. Life is hard. And sure you have had a terribly rough life and are screwed up because of it. And I'm sure you have the best intentions but actions speak much louder than words and some where along the way, your actions told someone that your baby wasn't one of your priorities so that's why someone else is taking care of him. Hate me all you want but your welcome!

Part 2: I really don't care for her either. This is because of a number of reasons. Some of it because of the prior reason, a lot of it because of the reason that will follow this one but, for me, it's has to do with the fact that I just don't get her. I mean really, what the heck was\is she thinking. She makes decisions in ways completely differently than me and I really don't understand it. This is not me saying please explain it to me because excuses don't really cut it. Life is hard! Yeah I know, so what?!

Part 3: She hurt\hurts someone I love. Does this need much explaining? I know I should forgive and forget but you know the saying: "Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice, shame on me." Is that how it goes? I'm not completely sure but you get the point. It's all water under the bridge but that doesn't mean we are friends.

I understand she could probably write a similar post on her blog about me. In her eyes, I'm the other woman.

I, for one, am grateful for the crappy decisions she made. I have an incredible husband that is my best friend and I love him more than anything. I have a son that I get to watch learn and grow that I love him very much. Our family would be incomplete without him. So to her, thanks for making the choices I would never have, for now I have them.

Step-Mother's day

Mother's Day can be a super exciting time for a mama. Your kiddos bring home hand made gifts from school and church. Husbands tend to get really sweet and if they don't, it's sure easy to say, " but honey, it's mother's day..." A little guilt can go a long way. The weather is getting warmer so there are usually barbeques and time spent with family and people you love the most. Flowers and baby animals everywhere. One of my favorite things, the kids singing at church! I love it and struggle not to cry every year. I love mother's day.

BUT... and this is a big but (hence the capital letters), having a child that needs to spend the time with another mom can be frustrating. I'm sure it's frustrating for the other mom too. The difference is, legally, biological mamas have a claim to the time. At least that's our story.

Every year, my dear husband tries to encourage Scooby's other mom to share a bit of the weekend with me and his grandmas here. Sometimes, for what ever reason, she does and sometimes she chooses not to. This year, she chose not to. She planned to have him Friday through Sunday evening. The result is that I dropped him off to her right after school and he came home just in time to go to bed.

BUT... and this is another big but, I chose not to feel down about this. These are my reasons.
#1-I get to spend way more time with him than she does; what is one more day in her regular weekend routine, right?
#2-She doesn't cause nearly as big of a stick as she used to; she says "thanks" when I bring him to her and she doesn't sit and though a massive "that women isn't his mother, I am!" tantrum barely out of Scooby's ear shot. I have a friend that is in a similar situation as me that had this happen to her this year on Mother's Day. By the way, all you biological mom's out there, that freak-out never makes you look good, to anyone, not even your poor baby that is stuck in the middle.
#3-He gave his beautiful hand-made gift he made at school to me. This is a big one to me. That means that while they spend hours at school writing poems and drawing pictures, he was thinking of me. Maybe it's the selfish part of me that needs to feel validated but that's how I feel. And on the way to drop him off he pulled it out of his backpack all wrapped up in my favorite colors that he picked out. I'm proud of that gift. Love that boy!

Overall, it was a fantastic Mother's Day, the only thing that could have made it better was having Scooby with us.

There's always tomorrow

Many times I feel overwhelmed by my responsibilities. As an at-home-mom, they range from playing with the kids to maintaining the cleanliness of the house. Including many unpleasantries like potty training and home work. One of my least favorite things, grocery shopping and cooking meals. Every thing I do is rarely noticed unless I don't do it. Only a few of the tasks that I perform are ever completed. Some things like laundry and dishes are NEVER finished. It can be very frustrating to do these things over and over and over making very little progress. It took me quite a while to fall into these responsibilities without everything in me screaming at me, "What is the point!! Who cares if I do it or not!! No one will notice if it gets done!!!" But the truth is, I notice. I want them done and I feel better, and happier, when they are done.

Some days I don't have the drive or energy to do them. Other days, I have lots of energy, I would just rather play with my kids in the sunshine or work on my newest wreath. What ever the reason of the day is, I try to maximize the days I do feel motivated to get stuff done and then piddle through the less motivated days. Then when the days that I piddle come around and I feel like sitting on the couch and watching Disney movies with my kids, I don't feel quite so guilty.

All my chores will always be here tomorrow. But my kids are going to grow up all too fast and I don't want to regret not taking a day off to spend it with them doing what ever we want. So I tell my self, "my dishes can wait til tomorrow" and oddly enough they always do. Someday, I hope they get bored of waiting and put themselves in the dishwasher. Until then... There's always tomorrow.

Patience: fake it til ya make it

As a teenager, I always thought that I had a ton of patience and that I was one of the most patient people I knew, I was obviously really humble too. Teenagers are awesome that way. The truth is, I knew jack about being patient and to this day, I still don't. I think that life teaches us patience.

I recently attended a get-together with a bunch of other women at my church where we had a little lesson/discussion on patience. It couldn't have been better timed because it was all I needed to hear that day. It was one of the those days. You know, the ones that you lock yourself in the pantry with a box a thin mints to try to talk yourself out of crying/screaming/throwing things. Although I spent most of the time during the discussion in tears feeling like a failure, I felt renewed. It's sure nice to know that in some way or another, we are all in the same boat, and misery LOVES company, right?? Seriously though, isn't it so nice when you find out that you aren't the only one that struggles with certain things? Anyway, there were so many great things that were discussed but the thing that really struck me was when the question was asked, "When it comes to patience, is it okay to fake it?" My answer to this is a giant "Heck to the YES!" I feel like when it really is time to be patient, that is all I do... fake it.

Patience feels like it's something that always takes great effort. Once I need to be patient, I'm already loosing it and have to work hard to act that way. I guess I'm just a very impatient person. I'm sure my dear children would agree. There are many times that I look at them and with my teeth grit trying not to scream and  I say, "I know I'm not yelling right now, but I want to. You have used up all the patience I have so will you please________." Scooby probably hears this from me more than the others, I swear he can't hear my voice unless I'm yelling or at least doesn't think I'm serious until I do.

So I fake it A LOT, and I'm okay with that because I try the best I can and very slowly, I'm getting better. That's the only way to live without regrets, to keep trying and trying again until I get it right. So do what works for you but  for me, when it comes to being patient: I fake it until I make it.

I ride the roller coaster

Since puberty, I've been riding an emotional roller coaster. I'm sure I'm not alone in this, I think it's fairly typical. But motherhood is a whole new amusement park. The ups are so much higher and the downs feel lots lower because my life is so intertwined with my children's lives. It's a lot like leaving Trafalga and going to Six Flags. The biggest issue is when I'm a little grumpy, I can't just avoid talking to people that might push my buttons like I did when I was a teenager. I still have to make them dinner and help them with home work. My poor kids are the first to know when my fuse is a bit shorter than normal. In reality, I don't like who I am when its like this and try to logically think that this will pass in a few days and everything will be better. Luckily, kids are forgiving and seem to love unconditionally. At least for now.

There is another roller coaster that I ride. I haven't come up with a cleaver name for it yet and would accept some help doing so if you want. This is the coaster I ride with Scooby. It's hard to describe what this one is like. Sometimes it's easy to be with each other and we get along great. Other times it's much harder. We clash constantly and I can tell he doesn't want to be around me too. By the time we get to the lowest point, I hate myself for letting it get like this and have a full on melt down before I can pull us out of it. It's not a pretty moment for me as you can imagine. But I am starting to recognize what this roller coaster feels like and I'm learning to make the ride a bit less nauseating. Oddly enough, it is usually pretty simple, yet easier said than done: I give him a hug.

The relationship that Scooby and I have is different than with my other children. Physical affection isn't natural between us. It takes quite a bit of effort for us to give each other a hug or sit close together. It's something that I have to consciously work on. I have to think to myself, he needs me to put my arm around him. Then I have to decide to it and then do it. Each step requires effort on my part. Maybe this is easier for some people but that's not who I am. I am always very aware of who I show physical affection to. I would not consider myself a "hugger." Some people would hug the bagger at the grocery store if they wouldn't get charged with sexual assault for it. Not me, I prefer to take my own groceries to my car.

So I do it, I pull him right next to me and put my arm around him until his and my walls fall down. Or I put my hand on his shoulder while I thank him for helping out or I touch and kiss his forehead when I tuck him in at night. I try to find some way to physically show my love for him because usually words aren't even close to enough. And everyone needs to love and to feel loved.