In the four years that I've been a stepmother, I have encountered and dealt with numerous challenges where I've been forced to disrobe my selfish needs and think of my stepkids needs, and their father's needs. It's been a difficult road to maneuver and the challenges keep coming.
My stepson, Kendrick, is 15 years old and full of attitude. I suppose in some ways he's a typical teenager, but in other ways, I think it runs deeper than that. He lives with his mother and he's miserable. He even told her so, but in her selfish blind fury, she demanded an apology from him for his honesty, rather than addressing the problem and apologizing to him. Without going into endless details of his homelife, Kendrick lives in a toxic environment. Not in a chemically ridden environment of substances that would eat your skin and choke you, but an emotionally toxic environment. It's a home filled with anger, endless bouts of screaming, criticism, pessimism and selfish acts of cruelty. I suppose there are good times, too, but if you met Kendrick, and his family, you'd see a depressed young man. I don't even think he realizes how depressed he is. It's difficult to hear the stories of his homelife, as we're pretty much helpless to them. The worst part of the situation is that Kendrick lives out of state, 120 miles away. This has been a difficult aspect of my husband's life, but one he can't change.
Six years ago my husband accepted a job out of state. He had been out of work, or underemployed, for over three years when this wonderful opportunity knocked on his door. Unfortunately, his wife (now ex-wife) didn't want to move out of state. That pretty much pounded in the last nail into the coffin of their failing marriage.
In the last six months my husband, Brad, has been feeding ideas into his son's head about moving in with us. I've been supporting his mission, too. I know if it happens it will be my greatest challenge as a stepmother, but to not support it would go against my values. We both know that Kendrick would be much happier living with us, once he adjusted to living in Packerland. Brad will listen to Kendrick's upsets and stories, and he'll remind him that he has options. Kendrick tells him that he does think about moving up here, but he doesn't say what's holding him back. We understand it's a huge decision on his part, but I know his emotionally immature mind can't grasp the whole situation as we see it. It's frustrating to see a young man like Kendrick be so depressed and unhappy. And Brad could take it to the courts and fight to get custody of his son, but aside from the astronomical legal costs, Brad fears it could backfire and make things worse. It truly is a delicate situation.
As a stepmother, this is one of the most difficult times a stepmother can encounter. I am helpless. I can only support my husband and his efforts with his son. But when I see his head hanging low and sadness looms around him, it causes my heart to break. He's struggled with his position as a father; living out of state from his kids and not being included enough in their lives. So often I want to talk to my stepson, but I fear it will fall on deaf ears. Most likely, he won't move in with us. His life will continue as it has; miserable.
I, too, was a stepchild, and somehow survived the wrath of divorce. But, unlike my stepson, I lived with the good parent. I shudder at the thought of having grown up with my father and his cruel wife, my stepmother. I would hate to think how I would've turned out had they had the opportunity to dig their values into my mind. I probably would see this situation through different eyes, and I probably wouldn't be married to this wonderful man.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Monday, April 1, 2013
She's Growing Up, My Stepdaughter That Is
Another lovely Easter at my mom's. We shared a feast of ham, sweet potatoes, cheesy potatoes, asparagus, rolls and jelly beans. I was surrounded by my family including my mother, our hostess, her boyfriend, Larry, my brother, his wife and daughter and my mom's boyfriend's niece and husband. Oh, and my husband, stepson and stepdaughter. It was a full house, and my mom's house is easy to fill up. The center of attention was my 3 year old niece, Livia. She was full of boundless energy and her sweet charm delighted all of us to no end. It's all about play with her. She would grab my hand several times throughout the afternoon to have me run around the house with her. Upstairs, downstairs, and again. She wore the most adorable dress, too. It was a soft turquoise green tule dress that fell below her knees and she loved to spin around in it. She's the prettiest and girliest tomboy I know! And she has a smile that melts you and forces you to give in to her every whim.
My mother, being the sweet and thoughtful person that she is, invited my stepchildren to join us, and they did. They enjoy getting together with my somewhat deranged and dysfunctional family, especially my brother with his twisted sense of humor and outlook on life. He had us in stitches at the dinner table as he found a way to pick on our mother. She had purchased several pieces of flatware from the Crate & Barrel outlet store, and she made certain that we acknowledge them, and well, that's where it picked up momentum with my brother. That was his queue, and that's where the fun began. It seems at every gathering my brother finds something that sets off his funny bone, and keeps us in stitches.
After dinner, we settled in the living room and more play time with Livia. She was automatically without provocation drawn to my stepdaughter, Kara. Kara has some power over young children as they are immediately without abandon drawn to her, to play with her. At one point, we were busting a gut watching Kara and Livia play with an empty water bottle. They were biting it from both ends like two dogs, and then Livia would giggle, and then do it again. While it's difficult to describe this scene, it certainly had us all intrigued and laughing.
Earlier, when Kara arrived at my mother's, she brought with her a plate of homemade cookies and a bubbles wand toy thing a ma jig. So we went outside at that time to make bubbles. Actually I think my brother enjoyed it more than my niece did. But I was so impressed at how Kara was so thoughtful in bringing a gift to Livia. It wasn't asked of her to do so, nor was it expected. She just did. I was touched by her thoughtfulness, and how she has embraced my family, too.
Kara turned 18 back in September. A milestone in the journey to adulthood, and though she's been a troubled and troublesome girl, she's starting to show signs of maturity and even responsibility. Don't get me wrong, though, she has a long way to go. But she's on the road now and she's starting to pick up speed, too. She's been on a rough road with a challenging history behind her, but she seems to be coming of age, and fighting the battle rather than giving in to defeat. I hope some of that fight has been because of her father's undying faith and belief in her. And maybe because of me. A little bit. Despite all the problems she's had over the years, I've always believed in her and I've always been able to see in her what she couldn't see; a vibrant, highly intelligent, insightful and loving young woman. I can't wait to see where this road takes her! And yes, I'm proud of her.
My mother, being the sweet and thoughtful person that she is, invited my stepchildren to join us, and they did. They enjoy getting together with my somewhat deranged and dysfunctional family, especially my brother with his twisted sense of humor and outlook on life. He had us in stitches at the dinner table as he found a way to pick on our mother. She had purchased several pieces of flatware from the Crate & Barrel outlet store, and she made certain that we acknowledge them, and well, that's where it picked up momentum with my brother. That was his queue, and that's where the fun began. It seems at every gathering my brother finds something that sets off his funny bone, and keeps us in stitches.
After dinner, we settled in the living room and more play time with Livia. She was automatically without provocation drawn to my stepdaughter, Kara. Kara has some power over young children as they are immediately without abandon drawn to her, to play with her. At one point, we were busting a gut watching Kara and Livia play with an empty water bottle. They were biting it from both ends like two dogs, and then Livia would giggle, and then do it again. While it's difficult to describe this scene, it certainly had us all intrigued and laughing.
Earlier, when Kara arrived at my mother's, she brought with her a plate of homemade cookies and a bubbles wand toy thing a ma jig. So we went outside at that time to make bubbles. Actually I think my brother enjoyed it more than my niece did. But I was so impressed at how Kara was so thoughtful in bringing a gift to Livia. It wasn't asked of her to do so, nor was it expected. She just did. I was touched by her thoughtfulness, and how she has embraced my family, too.
Kara turned 18 back in September. A milestone in the journey to adulthood, and though she's been a troubled and troublesome girl, she's starting to show signs of maturity and even responsibility. Don't get me wrong, though, she has a long way to go. But she's on the road now and she's starting to pick up speed, too. She's been on a rough road with a challenging history behind her, but she seems to be coming of age, and fighting the battle rather than giving in to defeat. I hope some of that fight has been because of her father's undying faith and belief in her. And maybe because of me. A little bit. Despite all the problems she's had over the years, I've always believed in her and I've always been able to see in her what she couldn't see; a vibrant, highly intelligent, insightful and loving young woman. I can't wait to see where this road takes her! And yes, I'm proud of her.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
I'm Really Over It
As I mentioned in a previous blog, my ex-stepmother died. I discussed how I was having a difficult time dealing with it, or so I thought. Well, it was only a few days, maybe a week, where I felt depressed, angry and emotionally stripped. My brother and I had several discussions about her and our father. And in my brother's usual fashion, he was able to help me to understand these difficult people. It wasn't a matter of right and wrong, it just was. In these people's minds, they were NOT committing any harmful acts against these children. They were just being parents, and disciplinarians at that. Well, not even disciplinarians. It's difficult to define what they were doing, but in their minds they were being parents.
I explained to my brother that one of the things that I held against our stepmother was the fact that she never apologized for her actions. Let me clarify. She underwent the 12 step program of AA. She was an alcoholic. One day while visiting my grandmother, my stepmother's mother-in-law, I came across a letter from my stepmonster to my grandmother, and like an curious teenager, I felt compelled to read it. In it she apologized to my grandmother for any wrong-doing she had done against her, as this is one of the 12 steps of the program. But, if memory serves, she never did anything wrong against my grandmother. I was offended and even felt betrayed or very small and insignificant. And hurt. She visited my grandmother once or twice a year, but she was subjected to my brother and me every other weekend until my father moved out of state, then it was more like holidays and summer vacations. My brother helped me to better understand this. He explained that she obviously didn't recognize her actions against us as being wrong or abusive. But? No. No buts. She didn't see what we saw, or experienced. In her mind, no matter how clouded or dimented, she was doing what a good mother, or stepmother, would do. Huh. It made sense. And the last thing I want to do sometimes is give my brother credit for being right about some things. Just a little sibling rivalry, mind you. But he was right. And no, he's not saying that we should excuse her actions, but it doesn't hurt to better understand them. He also said that he strongly felt that some of her actions were probably also out of anger towards our father and mother. She was very much in love with our father, but his heart was else where. It was a complicated situation, or maybe more like twisted.
I get it now. I don't like it. But I get it. After years of counseling, rivers of tears, and some displaced anger, I've finally come to a better place. It's been a long journey. However. I still don't speak to my father. But that's another story. The best way to sum up that situation, my father has made bad choices and I chose to no longer be a victim of his choices.
In a more normal situation, counseling would be tremendously helpful for all parties involved in a divorce. But in those days, the early 70s, there was no such thing. You just got through it. Somehow. And when you remarry, and you have children from a previous marriage, think about them and include them. And again, more counseling. As an experienced stepchild, I understand what children are feeling when their parents divorce and remarry. And remarry again and again. Children are helpless to their parents' choices, but they shouldn't become victims of their choices.
I explained to my brother that one of the things that I held against our stepmother was the fact that she never apologized for her actions. Let me clarify. She underwent the 12 step program of AA. She was an alcoholic. One day while visiting my grandmother, my stepmother's mother-in-law, I came across a letter from my stepmonster to my grandmother, and like an curious teenager, I felt compelled to read it. In it she apologized to my grandmother for any wrong-doing she had done against her, as this is one of the 12 steps of the program. But, if memory serves, she never did anything wrong against my grandmother. I was offended and even felt betrayed or very small and insignificant. And hurt. She visited my grandmother once or twice a year, but she was subjected to my brother and me every other weekend until my father moved out of state, then it was more like holidays and summer vacations. My brother helped me to better understand this. He explained that she obviously didn't recognize her actions against us as being wrong or abusive. But? No. No buts. She didn't see what we saw, or experienced. In her mind, no matter how clouded or dimented, she was doing what a good mother, or stepmother, would do. Huh. It made sense. And the last thing I want to do sometimes is give my brother credit for being right about some things. Just a little sibling rivalry, mind you. But he was right. And no, he's not saying that we should excuse her actions, but it doesn't hurt to better understand them. He also said that he strongly felt that some of her actions were probably also out of anger towards our father and mother. She was very much in love with our father, but his heart was else where. It was a complicated situation, or maybe more like twisted.
I get it now. I don't like it. But I get it. After years of counseling, rivers of tears, and some displaced anger, I've finally come to a better place. It's been a long journey. However. I still don't speak to my father. But that's another story. The best way to sum up that situation, my father has made bad choices and I chose to no longer be a victim of his choices.
In a more normal situation, counseling would be tremendously helpful for all parties involved in a divorce. But in those days, the early 70s, there was no such thing. You just got through it. Somehow. And when you remarry, and you have children from a previous marriage, think about them and include them. And again, more counseling. As an experienced stepchild, I understand what children are feeling when their parents divorce and remarry. And remarry again and again. Children are helpless to their parents' choices, but they shouldn't become victims of their choices.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
My Ex-Stepmother Died and I Don't Know How To Feel
I just learned that my old stepmother passed away a couple of days ago. And it's not settling well with me. I always thought that when she died that I would feel relief....or it would be somewhat cathartic. It's not. It's very confusing. Conflicting. And, to my disbelief, somewhat sad. Don't misunderstand me. I'm not a cold person. I'm a survivor of a difficult divorce and two re-married parents. Which means I had two stepparents. One was cold, mean and, well, just mean. The other was indifferent. My stepmother was the cold and mean one. And one could easily surmise all the reasons and excuses for her behavior towards us, but in the end it was inexcusable. Hurtful. Damaging. And sometimes, most of the time, unforgiveable.
To forgive someone is an enormous undertaking emotionally. It requires acceptance, understanding and the ability to almost forget or let it go. I thought I had achieved this undertaking with my ex-stepmother, but apparently not. I had always hoped, which is a dangerous word, that she would apologize or try to make amends for her wrongful behavior. I had longed for that day when she would tell me why she was so mean to me. Why she was abusive and cruel. I wasn't a bad kid. No different than any other child. I played, got dirty, yelled and screamed, and sometimes I forgot to do something that I was told to do. One time I uttered the shameful words, "Oh my God!" And I paid a hefty price for that sin. My stepmother washed my mouth out with soap. Ivory soap, to be exact. I have never used Ivory soap since then. And when she washed out my mouth, and she did so with such vigor and purpose, she never clearly explained in a calm way why I was being punished. I didn't cuss or use vulgar language. I wasn't sarcastic or disrespectful towards her. I just said "Oh my God". Then I said it again, and not on purpose, and she washed out my mouth again. Her abuse was relentless.
Often when some people die it's so easy to forgive them, and forget, their wrong doings, hurtful words and emotional and physical abuse. This time I'm not one of those people. I want to be, but there's too much baggage to muddle through, too much pain. Maybe it's time to finally, once and for all, close this chapter of my life. I thought I had made peace with it when I became a stepmother. I had vowed that if I became a stepparent that I would not treat my stepkids the same way I was treated. Never! And I haven't. In a way, I am continually trying to undo what she did.
It's not always easy to forgive those who have truly hurt us. It's been over 30 years since I've been subjected to my stepmother's abuse, but the scars are still tender. But I now know that it wasn't me that caused her to be so abusive. It was her, all her. I may never understand why, but I can finally close this chapter.
To forgive someone is an enormous undertaking emotionally. It requires acceptance, understanding and the ability to almost forget or let it go. I thought I had achieved this undertaking with my ex-stepmother, but apparently not. I had always hoped, which is a dangerous word, that she would apologize or try to make amends for her wrongful behavior. I had longed for that day when she would tell me why she was so mean to me. Why she was abusive and cruel. I wasn't a bad kid. No different than any other child. I played, got dirty, yelled and screamed, and sometimes I forgot to do something that I was told to do. One time I uttered the shameful words, "Oh my God!" And I paid a hefty price for that sin. My stepmother washed my mouth out with soap. Ivory soap, to be exact. I have never used Ivory soap since then. And when she washed out my mouth, and she did so with such vigor and purpose, she never clearly explained in a calm way why I was being punished. I didn't cuss or use vulgar language. I wasn't sarcastic or disrespectful towards her. I just said "Oh my God". Then I said it again, and not on purpose, and she washed out my mouth again. Her abuse was relentless.
Often when some people die it's so easy to forgive them, and forget, their wrong doings, hurtful words and emotional and physical abuse. This time I'm not one of those people. I want to be, but there's too much baggage to muddle through, too much pain. Maybe it's time to finally, once and for all, close this chapter of my life. I thought I had made peace with it when I became a stepmother. I had vowed that if I became a stepparent that I would not treat my stepkids the same way I was treated. Never! And I haven't. In a way, I am continually trying to undo what she did.
It's not always easy to forgive those who have truly hurt us. It's been over 30 years since I've been subjected to my stepmother's abuse, but the scars are still tender. But I now know that it wasn't me that caused her to be so abusive. It was her, all her. I may never understand why, but I can finally close this chapter.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Stepmothers: It's Not Nice to Be Mean
One of the many challenges a stepmother may face is refraining from knocking the kids' biological mother. As a stepmother, you are in a special club. You are on the inside of seeing how some kids are raised, and the conflicts that arise as a result. Often times you just want to let go and tell these poor kids what a horrible and inept mother they really have, but you can't say that. And you shouldn't say that. Sometimes the biological mother is a great mother, but the divorced parents can't seem to place their anger aside and work together despite their differences. It's a difficult situation for everyone. Stepmothers have sore tongues from biting them so much!
Don't get me wrong. Not every mother in the world is a lousy mother, but there are enough of them out there. And if you are the unfortunate stepmother that has to deal with such a person, you have to learn restraint. So often, you want to tell these poor kids that they're mother is a bad person; a liar, two-faced, mean, irresponsible, and just plain incompetent. After all, they should know. Right? Wrong. The worst thing a stepmother could do, and even the biological father, is to knock or speak badly of the children's mother in front of them or to them. Why, you ask? Because the kids will hate you more for it, than their mother. If anything, it will draw them closer to their mother and further from you and your husband, their father. We have to remember that the children are a product, if you will, of their mother and father. When we insult one of the parents, we're also insulting the kids. And as we all know, no one can insult someone's family. No one. No outsiders are allowed to ridicule our loved ones. Only we can do that. And children will hate you if you insult or belittle their mothers. They will. I did.
I was a stepchild all through my childhood. My parents divorced when I was five years old, and my father remarried first when I was seven. At first she seemed to be so nice and kind. That all changed once she had the gold band on her finger. My father and stepmother continually belittled my mother in front of me and to me, and I hated them for it. I'm talking about a deep seething and loathing hatred of these two people. And if memory serves, my mother did refrain from knocking my father. Even though she would've been justified in doing so. She figured that my brother and I would learn about who our father was on our own and in our own time. We did.
When I became a stepmother I vowed that no matter the circumstances I would not belittle, insult or knock my stepchildren's mother in their presence. And I told my husband to do the same. We did. Kids have enough to deal with when their parents divorce, they sure don't need a mean stepmother. There's enough meanness in the world, so don't be mean to your stepchildren.
Don't get me wrong. Not every mother in the world is a lousy mother, but there are enough of them out there. And if you are the unfortunate stepmother that has to deal with such a person, you have to learn restraint. So often, you want to tell these poor kids that they're mother is a bad person; a liar, two-faced, mean, irresponsible, and just plain incompetent. After all, they should know. Right? Wrong. The worst thing a stepmother could do, and even the biological father, is to knock or speak badly of the children's mother in front of them or to them. Why, you ask? Because the kids will hate you more for it, than their mother. If anything, it will draw them closer to their mother and further from you and your husband, their father. We have to remember that the children are a product, if you will, of their mother and father. When we insult one of the parents, we're also insulting the kids. And as we all know, no one can insult someone's family. No one. No outsiders are allowed to ridicule our loved ones. Only we can do that. And children will hate you if you insult or belittle their mothers. They will. I did.
I was a stepchild all through my childhood. My parents divorced when I was five years old, and my father remarried first when I was seven. At first she seemed to be so nice and kind. That all changed once she had the gold band on her finger. My father and stepmother continually belittled my mother in front of me and to me, and I hated them for it. I'm talking about a deep seething and loathing hatred of these two people. And if memory serves, my mother did refrain from knocking my father. Even though she would've been justified in doing so. She figured that my brother and I would learn about who our father was on our own and in our own time. We did.
When I became a stepmother I vowed that no matter the circumstances I would not belittle, insult or knock my stepchildren's mother in their presence. And I told my husband to do the same. We did. Kids have enough to deal with when their parents divorce, they sure don't need a mean stepmother. There's enough meanness in the world, so don't be mean to your stepchildren.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Stepmotherhood and its ongoing challenges
It's been a couple of years since I last posted on this blog. I guess I've been too busy with the neverending challenges of being a stepmother.
Yes, my stepkids still like me and our relationship has grown and matured, but not without a lot of tears, screaming and patience. There's that word again. Patience. Brad and I have been married for over three years now. And quite happily might I add. I've talked to him numerous times about my challenges with his kids, and he's shared his challenges with me. I've learned how important it is to talk to him. Even if I have to tell him something that I know may upset him or hurt him, but that was never the intention. Honesty is the intention. He understands me, and I him.
His daughter is now 18 and we hardly see her anymore. But she just got her first car, so she may come up to see us now. We live over a 100 miles from his kids, so it's not a quick drive for anyone. Even though I had a breakthrough with his daughter a few years ago, it didn't go without more challenges. She would have fits of rage and loudly express how she hated me or why couldn't her father and mother work it out. She blamed me for ending that possibility, but that possibility never existed. Brad assured me that he would never return to his ex-wife. As time went by, his daughter came to realize that her parents' divorce was the best thing. She started to view her mother through different eyes and longed for the day when she could move out. Patience. All Brad and I needed to do was to practice patience.
Communication. This is key and has been for us. No matter what you're feeling, talk it out. Make your husband understand what you're feeling, and then he can help you and support you. Tell him when the kids hurt your feelings or are disrespectful. Tell him when you feel overwhelmed. Tell him. Just tell him what you're feeling and ask him to tell you what he's feeling, and somewhere down the line you'll meet in the middle and work it out.
Yes, my stepkids still like me and our relationship has grown and matured, but not without a lot of tears, screaming and patience. There's that word again. Patience. Brad and I have been married for over three years now. And quite happily might I add. I've talked to him numerous times about my challenges with his kids, and he's shared his challenges with me. I've learned how important it is to talk to him. Even if I have to tell him something that I know may upset him or hurt him, but that was never the intention. Honesty is the intention. He understands me, and I him.
His daughter is now 18 and we hardly see her anymore. But she just got her first car, so she may come up to see us now. We live over a 100 miles from his kids, so it's not a quick drive for anyone. Even though I had a breakthrough with his daughter a few years ago, it didn't go without more challenges. She would have fits of rage and loudly express how she hated me or why couldn't her father and mother work it out. She blamed me for ending that possibility, but that possibility never existed. Brad assured me that he would never return to his ex-wife. As time went by, his daughter came to realize that her parents' divorce was the best thing. She started to view her mother through different eyes and longed for the day when she could move out. Patience. All Brad and I needed to do was to practice patience.
Communication. This is key and has been for us. No matter what you're feeling, talk it out. Make your husband understand what you're feeling, and then he can help you and support you. Tell him when the kids hurt your feelings or are disrespectful. Tell him when you feel overwhelmed. Tell him. Just tell him what you're feeling and ask him to tell you what he's feeling, and somewhere down the line you'll meet in the middle and work it out.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Fine Line
A little over 2 years ago I became a stepmother. I knew it would be a challenge for me, but I had no idea how big. This wonderful man came into my life, again for the second time, swept me off my feet and I said, without hesitation, "I do".
After a couple of months I was introduced to his kids, his teenage daughter and his 10 year old son. I expected resistance from them, especially his daughter, but again, I didn't know the challenges that laid ahead of me. But his son was hardly resistant. He took to me pretty quickly and we became buddies, mainly because of our love of music. We would have trivia contests with each other, trying to out do the other with our vast knowledge of our mutual passion. His daughter, on the other hand, wanted no part of me. She ignored me with all of her will and defiance. It became quite clear that I was a threat to her. A threat of replacing her mother, which would never happen, and a threat to her undivided attention from her father. I was the "other woman". But I didn't give up. I practiced patience. Lots of patience. I tried to demonstrate to her, and even told her, that I only want to be her friend. Nothing more. I even explained to her that I knew how she felt. I, too, was a stepdaughter for most of my childhood. But the big difference between me and my stepmother, is that I was nice and would not fall into the mean stepmother stereotype. I would not dismiss her or berate her mother in her presence. Never. I understood that pain all too well. I thought about how my stepmother treated me and vowed to myself that if I ever became a stepmother that I would NOT become like her. Never!
Then one day it all changed. Suddenly his daughter liked me, and even told me so. I did it! I broke through the wall. My husband-to-be was at work and his kids were spending part of their Christmas vacation with him. I was out of work, so I had the time to spend with them and we would hang out at the mall and run errands together. While driving around one day we were talking about nothing of great importance and his daughter was nice to me. Interested in what I had to say, laughed at my jokes and just had a plain ol' good time together. It was a breakthrough for me. I didn't expect it to happen as quickly as it did, but I was elated and relieved. Things were getting good!
After a couple of months I was introduced to his kids, his teenage daughter and his 10 year old son. I expected resistance from them, especially his daughter, but again, I didn't know the challenges that laid ahead of me. But his son was hardly resistant. He took to me pretty quickly and we became buddies, mainly because of our love of music. We would have trivia contests with each other, trying to out do the other with our vast knowledge of our mutual passion. His daughter, on the other hand, wanted no part of me. She ignored me with all of her will and defiance. It became quite clear that I was a threat to her. A threat of replacing her mother, which would never happen, and a threat to her undivided attention from her father. I was the "other woman". But I didn't give up. I practiced patience. Lots of patience. I tried to demonstrate to her, and even told her, that I only want to be her friend. Nothing more. I even explained to her that I knew how she felt. I, too, was a stepdaughter for most of my childhood. But the big difference between me and my stepmother, is that I was nice and would not fall into the mean stepmother stereotype. I would not dismiss her or berate her mother in her presence. Never. I understood that pain all too well. I thought about how my stepmother treated me and vowed to myself that if I ever became a stepmother that I would NOT become like her. Never!
Then one day it all changed. Suddenly his daughter liked me, and even told me so. I did it! I broke through the wall. My husband-to-be was at work and his kids were spending part of their Christmas vacation with him. I was out of work, so I had the time to spend with them and we would hang out at the mall and run errands together. While driving around one day we were talking about nothing of great importance and his daughter was nice to me. Interested in what I had to say, laughed at my jokes and just had a plain ol' good time together. It was a breakthrough for me. I didn't expect it to happen as quickly as it did, but I was elated and relieved. Things were getting good!
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