Category: kids

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What a Day

The past week has been really busy with kids and kids and kids. It’s been wonderful. They are back to school today and this is the first time in two years that they have all been with us for a few school days since they are usually sleeping at their dad’s Sunday night through Thursday night. It creates a little bit of tension because they have to move up their schedules by at least 15 to 20 minutes to still make school on time. If you are a girl with long hair and a slight case of maternally-passed-on OCD and over planning, you’re getting up a lot earlier just to make sure you didn’t forget anything. So early, in fact, that it’s almost still yesterday. If you are a boy that takes after your mom and hates the early morning sun like a vampire, you try to sleep those extra precious minutes and then shriek in dismay to learn you really, actually, for reals have to get up earlier to still have time to use 3/4 a bottle of Axe. Mark my words – you will have to go through the entire day Axe-less. You poor fellow.

We did manage to squeeze in a quick trip to San Diego to see friends during Spring Break. Very low key and fun. I can’t tell you a lot about that night, since it’s top secret and everything, but I can link to this photo that tells a pretty great story all by itself.

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Great

It’s Spring Break!
The kids are with us.
We are busy having fun. (and not thinking about moving and packing and work and stuff. no stuff.)(really, i’m trying not to.)(it doesn’t always work.)
See you next Monday!

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New Family Game

And when I say ‘Family’ I mostly mean Joe. Man, that guy won’t get off the game and let the kids have a turn. He’s all ‘It’s my microphone! It’s my song! I’m your mother! If you love me you’ll let me play!’ Oh, wait.

Joe picked up the American Idol version of Karaoke Revolution complete with Simon, Dog-you-know-what-Dog and some odd lady that is NOT Paula, which is shameful.

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Because the whole reason you watch Idol is to watch the most-likely-intoxicated Paula slur out slightly irritating and unintelligible compliments to the contestants. And she’s not even in the game! It’s this other helmet-haired woman with absolutely no personality at all. Like, imagine the opposite of Paula: she’s completely sober, not entertaining and never says anything except ‘I think the middle was pitchy. What do YOU think, Cowell?” In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Simon Cowell had created her simply to make himself look better in the game.

We had a BBQ the other night and it was interesting how different the singing game was from the guitar game. (You know I shred, right?) When the guitar game is in, just about anyone will try it, even if they have never seen it before. But you put in the singing game, half the room will leave or refuse to try it. I guess I don’t get it since I’m willing to belt out as loud as possible in front of just about anyone. In fact, come over. I want to sing in front of you right now. Hurry. I just unlocked Achy Breaky Heart. Just kidding. That song isn’t on this edition. It’s probably on the country edition, though. But wouldn’t it be great if I could sing that for you right now?? THINK about it! I also do awesome dance moves while on stage.

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My character looks kind of like KristyK. How cute, eh? Here I am singing “Love Will Keep Us Together”. My *ahem* attributes are very generous in the game.

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Here’s Joe. You haven’t truly heard “What A Girl Wants” until you’ve heard him sing it.

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We need to get a 2nd mic so we can play duets. My one complaint: the font stinks. Pick a font that is easy to read, dudes! Don’t make me work so hard to input my name.

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Ask Leahpeah

From my email:

Hi Leah. I have a daughter that is 9 and a son that is 7. They are beautiful and smart. In fact, that is why I’m writing you. They are so smart that I think they are catching on. I can’t always make sure I am the safe adult parent when they are around. Not that any of my personalities are mean or harmful. If that was true, I would have given them up a long time ago. It’s just that some of my personalities are not as helpful for kids or able to take care of them as well, if you know what I mean. And I’m pretty sure my daughter has figured out that I’m not normal. And I’m sure that my son won’t be far behind. How did you handle this? I know you are integrated now but what about before? Should I tell them the truth? I worry it will just scare them or confuse them but I don’t want to lie to them, either. My mom used to help out but she died last year and I don’t have anyone else to help take care of them. My husband left me right after our son was born. Thanks.

Hey there. I’m sorry you are in the situation of taking care of your kids all by yourself. Do you belong to a church group or have any good friends that understand your situation? Or siblings? Their father’s family? Or can you get connected to some group through your therapist (if you’re seeing one, and I hope you are) that offers low-cost care for kids? I ask because if you don’t have any help, then you are potentially not taking the best care of your kids.

When you say that you don’t have any harmful personalities where the kids are concerned, I think I do know what you mean. None of mine were angry or hurtful towards children, either. But on the other hand, there were a few years when my kids had to basically take care of themselves for hours or days at a time when some of my other personalities were in charge, which is really neglect and shouldn’t be happening. I’m positive that you are doing everything you can possibly do to take good care of them. I’m positive that you are doing the best you can. But please consider finding outside help that is supportive of your situation. Because even though it’s hard to trust others with inside knowledge of your situation, your kids are worth it. And you need it, too.

Kids are way smarter than most adults give them credit for. If you suspect that your daughter knows you aren’t ‘normal’ then I would guess that you are right. It’s a hard situation to figure out how much information is the right amount but yes, probably she needs some. And she can let you know how much she needs if you let her take the lead. One way to do that is to use a modified version of play therapy. I used play therapy with my two older kids when they were old enough to wonder what was going on. We acted out our life using dolls and stuffed animals. My husband traveled extensively (we were in the military) and the kids let me know in play how they were feeling and I helped them know that I heard them in the same way. It might be odd at first if you aren’t used to using play time as therapy but if you keep at it, it can be really healing. This page has some info on how it can help. And this page and has some helpful info with some tips. Here are some books you could look for at your library.

I’m glad you asked this question because it means you are thinking about how you are affecting your children. And even ‘normal’ (have I mentioned I hate that word? 🙂 ) parents affect their kids in ways they wish they didn’t. Parents can’t help it. We set examples in every department by what we do and don’t do. Your kids are watching you and evaluating and setting their gauges about what is right and not right and what they will accept and won’t accept by how you treat them and how you let others treat you. So it would make perfect sense that they would want to understand why you seem to be so different at different times and why sometimes you are seriously invested in their well being and why other times you seem to hardly care at all and they have to fix their own dinner. It might feel monumental to them that when they fall and skin their knee, sometimes you kiss and cuddle and give the love only mothers can but other times send them to get their own bandage.

I should interject a side note here, that not knowing anything about how your internal structure is set up, I don’t know if all your personalities cooperate or not. If not, I would say it’s time to take that into serious consideration. The more you all work together, the better for the kids. If you do work together, it’s possible to make agreements with everyone on the inside to put the kids first. That might mean that if someone else is out and one of the kids gets hurt, they invite you, the mom personality, back out immediately until things are under control again. Alternately, you could get agreements that whenever the kids are with you, that you are out, period. I also understand that could create resentments between your selves, but hopefully, you can figure out the best way to do things with your therapist. If you don’t currently see one, I would suggest finding one and soon.

The way I spoke about my situation during play therapy with my kids when they were those ages was something like this: “I know that sometimes Mommy seems different. Sometimes she seems to pay attention to you better and sometimes she doesn’t. That’s not fair! You are important and special and deserve to have Mommy always care about you more than TV or sleeping or anything! I think there is something going on in Mommy’s brain that makes it so she can’t be like so-and-so’s mommy. So I’m going to tell you the magic words that you can say that will always make Mommy stop acting so different right away. Ok? Here they are! These are the magic words: Mommy! I need you to look at me right now and love me right now! and when you say that her brain will work better and she’ll stop painting or reading or sleeping, OK? Now, try out the magic words!”

Variations on that theme worked well. Understand that I did have an agreement, though, so it was a serious promise I was making with my kids. It helped them feel empowered but it only worked because my personalities were all bound to comply and did. Because it created an environment where they could tell me how they felt, using the dolls and stuffed animals, I got to hear all about hurts and pains they had been saving up for their Mommy when she had been ‘gone away’ or ‘busy with her paints’ or whatever it was they told themselves, and there were many hurts and pains to talk about and relive and go over. But I do think it made a tremendous impact on the quality of my relationships with them which I benefit from today. It opened a dialog with them that continues and I’m sometimes amazed at the things they are comfortable talking about with me, because I never would have talked to anyone in my family, let alone my parents, like they do with me. I’m very lucky.

Remember that while in play therapy mode, it’s important for them to not ever be ashamed of what they say or do. And believe me, there are moments when you’ll want to sink into the floor or become defensive or run from the room. But in order for them to truly heal and connect and understand, you HAVE to be open and honest and make room for them to tell you just how angry or scared and let down they feel. And it is your job to validate every, single, solitary thing they say they feel. Feelings can’t ever be wrong. It’s the action, after the feeling, in a harmful or un-nurturing vein that needs to be stopped and redirected. But the feelings – they are always just feelings and should be validated. It is in this way that you teach them to trust in their instincts and to listen to their gut and to learn to take good care of themselves while creating healthy boundaries. The worst thing you can do is invalidate their feelings by saying, ‘No, mommy didn’t do that or say that. You’re wrong.’ because that is teaching them to NOT trust in their feelings. Even if you disagree with what they are saying because you know it didn’t happen that way, save that talk for another time. In that moment, tell them, ‘I’m sorry you felt so scared and mad. That sounds really hard!’ Later, when you are out of play therapy mode, ask them if they want to talk about it. If they say yes, try to explain what you remember happening. If they still insist it happened different, it may be that you both experienced it a different way. Our recollections, or memories, are easily swayed by all kinds of factors and you could both be right, as odd as at that sounds.

A great example of memory being tricky is that one of my sons distinctly remembers that when he met my husband, Joe had very long hair. Ty was 9 at the time. The fact is that Joe had cut his hair to a very short length before I or my children met him but his driver’s license photo shows him with very long hair. When Ty saw that photo way back when, it somehow ingrained in his memory that Joe had long hair and he still thinks to this day that Joe’s hair was long when they met. Another example is pretty much any family gathering I ever went to. I have 7 siblings and you sometimes get 8 different accounts when talking over things that happened a few years ago. Throw in my parents and a few nieces and nephews and you’d be hard pressed to find 3 or 4 accounts that match in their entirety. So, who’s wrong? The important things are the feelings behind the memories. Sometimes, the time is better spent talking about those than the facts of the accounts.

It’s a big job, taking care of kids, even when you have a partner to lean on in the hard times. By yourself it becomes much harder and when you add in the mental issues it grows exponentially more difficult. I would say it is next to impossible for you in your current situation to give yourself or them the care you all need all of the time. Please look at this as part of your job as their mother. Whatever you need to do, whomever you need to talk to, whatever agencies you need to go through, do it to find the help you need. And how awesome that you care enough to think about this problem and figure it out! Kudos to you. Your children are lucky.
xo

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16 Year Old Girls

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When Alex was about 4, she would beg to wear her pink nightie-dress every single night. It didn’t matter if it was dirty or torn or missing – if she wasn’t wearing it, she would dissolve into a mess of tears. You see, with it on, she became a princess and there was nothing she loved more than being a princess.

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On a Saturday night, we’d put her hair up in curlers for church the next day, me on the couch, her on my lap watching The Little Mermaid or some other type of Disney marketing, and she’d sing along and I’d keep rolling up swatches of hair and smiling. Because, there isn’t anything much better than hearing your daughter sing Part of Your World with her little German-accent lisp and wavering, slightly off-key voice. And when I was done she’d twirl. Twirl and twirl and twirl, until she was exhausted and dropped into a heap on the floor, legs tucked under and bum in the air.

Her incredible energy burst right before bed was a little alarming sometimes. She’d suddenly start talking and tell me all about the horse she would have when she was big and the dress she’d be wearing and the places they’d go visit and where the magic happened, her words quickly tumbling over each other in their effort to get out as fast as possible before she would be forced to stop, and maybe forget, and fall asleep.

I’d pick her up and hold her, her breathing deep and even, her bottom lip jutting out just a tiny bit, her skin so smooth and warm, my heart would nearly burst and I’d think of how when she was born I loved her so much and didn’t think I could love her any more than I had at that moment. But I did. I did. I loved her more and more all the time and it seemed impossible but it was true. I’d use my finger to push her hair off her forehead and kiss her just one more time and one more time again before putting her in her bed and ‘cover-her-unders’ as she’d say if she were awake.

Last night, as I drove her back to her dad’s to do homework and get ready for bed, she turned on the radio and started singing, badly on purpose, to whatever song happened to be on. She was in a super silly mood, her teen hormones racing though her blood creating a near manic version of herself. Her voice cracking and flat, her silly smile and sparkling eyes barely keeping back the giggles that were just about to break free of the dam and come tumbling out, uncontrollably, all over the car. And she kept looking in my direction while I drove, just under the speed limit to prolong the amount of time we had together, waiting for me to look at her at every available interval, because this performance, it was for me. She’d sing too fast, getting faster and faster until she was an entire verse ahead of what was actually playing, sounding like an off-tune robot and it was funny. I laughed and laughed but inside, my heart grew even larger because just an hour before when we were outside on the lawn and I was taking her photo, I loved her so very, very much and it didn’t seem possible to love her any more than I did at that moment, but I did. Just right then, I did love her even more again.

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Full set of Alex in her blue dress.
Alex at 14 set.

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Tony Makes A Stool (and don't think we didn't say that about a million times…)

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Here he is, the cute boy with his raw wood stool and the burning tool. We played with the idea of carving for a bit but sadly, the cheap tools I picked up were way too dull for the job and so, thinking of all the fingers we could lose trying to make a beautiful scroll around the edges, we decided to just use the burning tool and avoid permanent disfigurement. Call me crazy.

He sketched his original rose design on the top with a border and wrote an original saying around the edge.

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Here Tony is doing the leaves. I think they turned out quite nice. Also, I love the smell of burning wood. Well, wood in general. It reminds me of my grandfather. Cedar is my favorite but pine is a close second.

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And, now you’ll have to pretend I remembered to take photos of him inking the rose red and staining the stool a deep walnut color. Because here is the finished product:

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Next we’re going to make cameras out of Altoid containers or make a book.

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Free Form Confessions

I wore my cute, breezy, brown and summery short pants* yesterday. I haven’t pulled them out since last summer. It’s been so hot it seemed like a good idea. Except for the fact that yesterday it was overcast and raining all day. That is so like me – just a few days off in my timing.

I put my hand in my pocket sometime after lunch and pulled out this card**:

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This tells me two things: 1) the last time I wore these pants was at Blogher and 2) I didn’t wash them. Awesome.
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I want a job, like, yesterday.
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I made my stomach upset by eating a marshmallow bunny and a Reese’s peanut butter egg. My body is not used to sugar. I can only assume that Easter is evil and the power of Christ compels me to fill my body with yummy sickness inducing chocolate treats. Thanks a lot, Easter Bunny.***
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I’m sensitive to latex. Bandages make a red patch on my body wherever they are attached and it lingers much longer than whatever the original owie was. When I tried to quit smoking those last couple of times, I tried the patch only to find I was constantly itching around and around it. Like that mosquito bite that you don’t want to bother but you can’t leave alone. The gum eventually did the trick for me, as bad as it tasted. So, here comes the part where I share too much information (as if it hasn’t happened already) in that I remind you that I’m trying not to become pregnant. The status of Joe’s and my sex life is not really anyone’s business and not really suitable for public internet consumption but let me just say that latex has become an issue in this department. So much so that the only thing Joe wanted for his birthday was for me to find some type of condoms that would work for me and not result in me jumping up from bed and exclaiming ‘My cootchie itches, dangit!’ which isn’t really the finest ending to being intimate with your partner. I found these during a hilariously eventful trip to the drug store where we only purchased gender-appropriate items like sanitary napkins and Gillette shavers. At $38 per 12 pack, each use coming in at just over $3, I feel like I better rent a video and hone up on my pole skills to make buying that pack worth his time and money. No pressure.
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Frequently, Joe will try to push a little culture towards the kids’ general direction. He’s quite observant for an old guy (He’s 37!!!) and he watches for things that they might find interesting. A computer game here, a geek conference there, a movie from the era of raging musicals from time to time, and then tries to entice the kids to participate, to broaden their horizons, if you will. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. One great experience was the other night when The Goodbye Girl was available via HBO on Demand. Joe and I both love the movie**** but I’ve heard groans from my daughter in relation to movies seeming to be a much better match seeing as how she likes to sing and dance and would like to be in the movies some day (Guys and Dolls, West Side Story) so I didn’t have very high hopes. I was wrong. She loved it, giggling and laughing, mostly in reaction to the deadpan humor and cuteness of the daughter in the story, Lucy, played by Quinn Cummings, who was fabulous and was nominated for a Golden Globe and an Oscar for her role. Out of curiosity, because I’m nosy like that, I found her online.***** Her blog is The QC Report and her writing is brilliant. I think we all know of a few celebrity online spots where the writing is sub par and un-witty making it hard to read except for the fact that you really, really, really want the person to have something great to say because you liked them in some movie. But Quinn’s writing is poignant and real, well written and funny. If I were still doing blogger interviews I would hit her up for a session in no time. Instead, I’ll just point you to a couple of my favorites.

Love Means Never starts out with how people don’t actually apologize when they apologize anymore and ends up telling an experience she had of being held up as the show-and-tell item of the night. I’ve had nights like this. I’ve been so angry and left the party rather than talk to the person about it and I then avoid them forever after and wonder, as I replay what I would have said in my head for the next eight months, if I would have done better to confront them.

Big Daddy is a beautiful tribute to her father, Sumner, and includes the heart breaking tale of the last day making the movie, The Goodbye Girl.

Even in her most recent post, To Live and Dye in LA, she uses words in such a wonderful way, weaving them in and out and creating this tapestry that you can see and touch and taste.

Also, she is the creator of the Hiphugger.
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I’m kind of a Law and Order freak. I have a need to see bad guys put away. On the rare occasion that they leave it open-ended with no pat resolution and the perp not on his way to Rikers, I throw things and pitch a fit. I need RESOLUTION, bastards!
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For those of you receiving your latest issue of JPG: Street, please thumb through the pages until you find the interview I did with the amazing National Geographic photographer, Nick Nichols. The entire interview couldn’t fit in the issue, and he’s got a film festival coming up that sounds fantastic, so please read the entire interview on the JPG site here for more details.
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I like Simon Cowell more than Paula Abdul. He seems to tell the truth and for the most part appears unintoxicated.
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*I realize that historically, ‘short pants’ is meant to describe above the knee pants, or, shorts. I use the term ‘short pants’ here because I get all the capri, palazzo, flood, ankle, and crop terms confused and what I really want to say is my pants are shorter than regular pants, ok? Play along with me.

**I’d like to apologize, Eden, not just for not keeping your card in a place of honor these past few months (it’s now in the Honor Bin) but also because I didn’t even know it wasn’t. If you can’t forgive me, I’ll understand. (at least I didn’t wash it!)

***Just kidding, Mom. I don’t really believe that Easter is evil. I used the phrase ‘The power of Christ compels thee!’ because no matter how much I don’t want to, I like and keep watching the movie Just Like Heaven with Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo and there is part in there where a completely ridiculous priest says that over and over while spraying holy water all over the floor where I’m sure it burns holes clean through to the apartment underneath where people are looking up and wondering where the acid rain is coming from.

****The part at the end where Paula is standing out on the balcony in the rain? With Elliot’s guitar positively soaked through? And hugging it as if it was the embodiment of Love? That is truly a wonderful moment.

*****Actually, Joe found her. But we share a brain, in a completely un-codependent way, so it’s the same as if I found her. Right? (thanks, joe! xo)

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My Guy

Me, singing in a rather loud, operatic voice – ‘I’m going up to SHOOOOWWWEEEERRRRR!’

Joe, mostly ignoring me and continuing his email -‘That’s great.’

Me – ‘Well, that was quite less enthusiastic than the response I was hoping for.’

Joe, being the kind of husband that loves me – ‘Thaaaaaaaat’s GRRREEEEEEAAAAAT!’

Today is Joe birthday. He’s 37 and will always be older than me. And smarter than me in many ways, except playing Guitar Hero, loading the dishwasher the RIGHT way, cleaning the house the RIGHT way and never buying enough pairs of pants. My studies show every person needs at least 15 pairs of jeans and his side of the closet is severely lacking. But, that’s all ok because he changes light bulbs, generally always puts away the laundry (THE CHAIR LAUNDRY) and sings in an operatic voice when I need him to. He gets spiders down from the very high ceiling so I can sleep at night and cleans the hair out of the drain.

Joe also has a complete tool set of skills when it comes to deciphering kid-speak, which doesn’t come easy to parents who come into the parent game mid-stream. He hears, ‘No, I don’t have any homework.’ and now immediately translates that to, ‘I So SO do have homework, but I don’t want to do it right now. And if I say no, you’ll leave me alone. But then when I get a D on my test next week, I will blame you for not making me study so if you really love me, you’ll make me haul out my agenda book, with much protesting, and look over my shoulder while I pretend to look by running my finger down the page in a line as I fake check and then when you ask me what ‘Study for Test’ means in the third period slot, I’ll act all surprised and say Oh Ya! I guess I do have homework and I’ll most likely hate you instantly because I’m not getting to play Counter Strike with my FRIENDS ONLINE who need me to WIN THE BATTLE, DUH, but when I’m not working at 7/11 at the age of 28, I’ll thank you.’ He also knows that ‘I barely touched him!‘ means ‘I just smacked him upside the head but he deserved it because he touched my favorite golf putter – the one I stashed under the coffee table so no one would find it and HE TOUCHED IT.’ And, last but not least, teen girls that answer How was your day? with barely a ‘Fine.’ really mean ‘You are old and a man, a man that (eeewwww) has hair on his chest, so there is no way you could ever understand the deep, deep sadness I carry in my heart today when Tammy totally forgot to bring my sweater to school and I wore my white shirt with the long sleeves just BECAUSE she was supposed to bring it and the shoulders on it are weird without the sweater and all day I had to just wear that stupid shirt without the sweater and everyone, EVERYONE stared at my stupid shoulders all day and Tammy didn’t even care or say sorry! You should BE SORRY, TAMMY!’

And, none of that even takes in to account the skills he had to learn just to understand me. That list would be far too extensive, so let me just say, Happy Birthday, Joe. I love you. You are my favorite.

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Alex Got Her Braces Off

There has been much smiling. Real smiling. With lots of white, straight teeth.

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She has used whitening strips every morning and night to remove the very, very, very slight yellowing around where the braces hit her teeth. And I think at last count she was at 16 trips per day into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Nice oral care, girl.

Also – new hats over at the craft site!

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Update On Many Fronts

Thyroid – the meds were working quite well and have now started working not so well. I run out of energy quickly and have been reduced to tears a few times this past week over things like putting salt in my coffee or not being able to find my phone. That is in my front shirt pocket. My throat is still sore. My hair is still falling out at a rapid rate and I could be considered a shedding mammal. I am a shedding mammal. I am managing to work out 5 out of 7 days a week but some days, my body feels so weak that I can’t do much more than ride the stationary bike for 20 minutes at a very leisurely pace. If I were on the street, you would lap me if you were using a walker. But I figure some movement is better than no movement. The very act of my blood circulating and taking oxygen to parts of my body has to be better than nothing.

Work – still freelancing. I hope to be starting more steady work next week. Steady money would be great. Because my health has been so up and down, it’s been hard to commit to something and if there is one thing I can’t stand to do, it’s make commitments and then break them. So, I’ve been cautious about wading in too far. But it feels like the right time and I feel strong enough to handle a normal work routine with out suffering some kind of physical relapse.

Moving – moving plans have been put on hold until May. With Joe starting a new contract position and everything that needs to be done around the house prior to moving, we can use those few extra weeks. But, hello garage, don’t think I’m still not going to move through your bowels of crap and not have a ruthless hand. Because I am. And soon.

Kids – Alex got her braces off this morning. I haven’t seen her naked teeth yet, but she says they are SMOOOOTH. Tony is not in a sport at the moment and it’s the first time in many months that he’s had no practice to go to after school a few days a week. I’m curious to see what he does with that time. Tyler is wrestling and playing volleyball. He’s also doing about a bazillion other activities and has zero free time for anything except the occasional sweaty hug on his way to the showers. Except this weekend. For some reason, this weekend the planets have aligned, Mercury is in retrograde and there is not one practice or game for anything. All weekend. You may all pick yourselves off the floor. Devon is tired. Tired. Tired. Tired. I remember sleeping a whole bunch at his age but I think this might be different. More on him later.

Joe – rocks.

Crafts – People! Upload images of your crafts, please. Thank you. I have many hats that need new homes and I want your stuff. : )

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Different Than I Thought

Published in True Mom Confessions, Berkley Trade, 2009

No one expects to get divorced when they get married. We were no different. My first husband and I were determined to make it work and we fought it out for almost 14 years. We would tell each other, ‘We can do this! We’ll figure it out because we are strong enough to make it work!’ When we finally reached that breaking point, there was nothing I wanted more than for him to marry someone that would love him and my kids. We ended as some sort of odd friends with a long and varied past and had the best in mind for each other. Although, for him, he probably thought the best would never happen for me based on my mental health issues. Thankfully, he was wrong. And I know at this point he’s happy he was wrong.

I wanted his new wife, because there was no question that he would be getting married right away, to really, really, REALLY love them and be there for them. I wanted my kids to feel like she was their other real mom. To trust her. To love her. And maybe that was odd because in a way, it could be looked at as if she was replacing me. But for them to be in a real family would be the best thing for them. For them to have anything less might in many ways be detrimental and there was never a moment when I wished for that. I remember the first time I met who he was going to marry, I went up to hug her because the kids genuinely seemed to like and appreciate her and they were happy and that made me happy. It wasn’t until she didn’t really hug me back, but instead seemed uncomfortable, that I realized the way I was thinking might be different than the other two in our odd adult triangle. But I never stopped hoping that we could be friends and work together on behalf of the kids.

Over the past few years, their step-mom has been everything I wished and hoped for. We might not be best friends, and that is most likely a much more healthy relationship that I originally imagined, but we are always more than civil and most of the time slightly warm. And the kids think of her as their mom. They call us both Mom interchangeably and within the same breath. To them, they are safe in their relationship with both of us and have no reason to differentiate with a Step here or a Bio there unless there is someone else in the conversation that really doesn’t get it and is wallowing in confusion. Then you might hear one of them backing up a bit to explain who is who. Maybe. But it’s just as likely they won’t take the time to explain and figure it is that person’s problem if they don’t get it.

And oddly, there is nothing that I’m prouder of. And oddly still, there is nothing that pierces my heart quite like hearing them call her Mom. It’s a strange revealing moment to be feeling discomfort and then in a shocked second remember that it’s something you wished for. Because on some level, I am still vain and would like to be irreplaceable. I’d like to be the only Mom in their life and have them depend on me for all of their Mom needs. And she could be there, doing a really fine job of being a Step-Mom, but I would be the REAL Mom. This is the fantasy that rides through my brain from time to time. But sadly, it isn’t reality. And thankfully, it isn’t reality. Because being safe on all sides is what is best for them. And I’m happy they call her Mom even when my heart occasionally bleeds a bit on the inside where they can’t see. Maybe hers does, too.