Age is Just a Number

Oh, You're Never Too Young

Stepmom Rant Catharsis to follow.... whyever do I think I need to qualify a post with a warning about stepmom rants?  I am a stepmom and I get bent out of shape - occasionally.  And you get to hear about some of the misalignments.

Or maybe because it is 2:30 in the morning and I went to bed at 8p.m. when I thought my head would drop on the table, and now I am awake.  Whatever.

T'was a Wednesday before Christmas ... in hopes that my youngest stepdaughter would soon be here ... 
First, for the background filler.  Nearly every year at Christmastime I get to exercise my painting skills.  This is in the form of nail polish - yes I've been practicing for 8 years.   No, it is not my nails - these old, garden worn things?  She requests that I break out the nail polish and paint all kinds of fun things on each nail: snowmen, snowflakes, holly, polka-dots, whatever we can think of and I can fit on the finger with a typical nail polish brush.  In green, red and white, and sometimes gold.

Now I've been outdone in many other ways by The Mother.  Well, that would lend that I am an active participant in the contest.  Headliner:  I am Not, so NA.   
I do X  (like, give sewing lessons), she does Z  (like, stays "up all night sewing" some new doo-dad or other for her daughters - the following week)  and that's the end of it.  Sometimes I do X again, but I don't do Z squared.

It's stepmommy time, so I opened the front door and threw open the screen, when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a well manicured hand and 10 new acrylic nails.  I knew in a moment it must be from The Mother, for who can spend money like no other?

Hmmm - coincidence this time of year?
She's 14 - too young?

Just when I think my brain can grasp the bottom line of The Mother's paycheck and child support spending capacity, she surprises me with something new.  Maybe I am jealous - afterall, I am getting my very first ever pedicure next week with a group of lovely ladies.  Maybe I am too simple - at 14 I don't really see the need to have clicky, red glittery nails.  Maybe I am overly pragmatic, maybe I am sick of mentioning in excitement my upcoming pedicure only to get filled in on what it's all about by a teenager who's used to being spoiled.  Maybe I don't like spoiled people.   Whatever the case, I couldn't help but to say out loud that it looked like I wouldn't get to paint the Christmas nails this year.

I spoke not more a word, and finished my Christmas cards like a nerd.  Off to bed I went because I was so spent, to awake with a clatter to settle this matter.  So here we are, at an early hour, I'll climb back in bed, to dream of a big sled.   

It's early, and I am surly.

Cute Out of the Box

After 4 years of dedicated service, my trusty old Nokia cell phone has been retired.  It still had its original battery and really, all things considered it still did its job.  So it had scotch tape around its little waistline to hold the front and back together; this from too many bounces on the concrete.  So its red End button needed about three prods to get it to work; possibly from hanging up on spouse-man with drama.   It looked old fashion, enough that it was almost coming back around in style.  It was a Christmas present from 4 years ago.

Alas, no more Nokia phones are available at the phone store.  In fact, when I ventured out one time last year - just to browse, you see - the bored sales clerk responded to my interest in the equivalent phone with a "you really can't downgrade anymore than that."  I was urged on by spouse-man to check out a new one since our contract was done.

So I went Pink.  Actually Violet and Pink.  It's called Playful Pink.   Yeah, that's me.   Spouse-man chuckled at me.      It won't need a little cell phone jacket to make it snazzy - it came out of the box cute.  I was checking out at a store this evening and two women were on the other side of the counter when it rang for the very first time.  They looked at each other then at me and I looked at them.  By deduction, because they weren't carrying phones, I realized it was me.  Gads, now I have to learn how to use the thing and make a ring tone I can actually recognize.  I took a photo of my shoes.  I'll bet every newbie with a pink phone takes a picture of their shoes.  However, I can't send it anywhere.  No matter, it still does what I want:  takes calls, makes calls, stores a number and tells me who's calling.   No texting here.  I've even got the flip down so I look like a Bond girl.  Gosh, I feel hip.

Midnite Latchkey Kid....Why?

After following Stephanie's escapades with her stepchildren's mother, I think often that I don't have much at all to complain about.  Sometimes though, it is a fine line.  The Mother generally does what she is supposed to:   provides Food (Pop Tarts and Hamburger Helper), Shelter (A house given to her - "here just take over the payments will ya?"), and Clothing (How much can a kid wear anyway?), mostly takes care of their health;  it could be worse, and generally spends some amount of time involved in their lives (read:   Mother Bungee).  However, I have noticed some degree of a sense of being done with this whole parenting thing and "I really need some me time" (yes, factoid), and an upsurge of career focus.  The youngest is 14, so she technically does still need a wee bit of guidance ... still.

Often it seems that we have some sort of curse on us (I've wondered if The Mother actually does have a voodoo doll over us...really) - like the time when we were honored with having a few of their friends over for a sleep over and it was the one time the pizza guy was not only 1.5 hours late, but really, no pizza ended up at our house after 2+ hours, everyone was starved and I scraped up something uninteresting from the pantry in a quick hurry.  We were not popular - the friends never came back.  Or, like this evening when I was to pick the 14 year old up from her practice at 5:30.  I arrived at 5:29 to find her sitting outside - having been finished for a 1/2 hour already, outside in the cold and dark. She showed me evidence that she'd called my cell phone numerous times with no evidence on mine.  We even tried her calling me right then and there, and still no ringy dingy on my end, fully charged bright screened cell phone, 2 feet from her.  There are too many of these weirdnesses for me to keep count, other than to shake my head that we don't seem to get a break.  And these things all go back to The Mother as evidence that we are screwballs, or confirm we are not worthy of respect or consideration.

Yet, in minutes as we were driving down the road, she tells me that she is excited to finally get to sleep tonite.  Of course I question why.  I am told that the silly dog - from last year (a yappy thing you pay alot of money for after you've driven out of state to retrieve it, buy rhinestone collars and put bows in its head - not me, The Mother), a brand new pup - of the same, had to sleep with her and they kept her awake.  Why sleep with her I wonder.  Because she was alone in the house...but her dog, the lab slept outside her door for protection.  Alone?  Overnight?  What?  Tell me more....

It seems because The Mother has all kinds of rotating shifts because of her important job, sometimes she works while normal people sleep.  In this case, stepdad is travelling somewhere, so my stepdaughter was alone in the house overnight.  Yep, she's capable.  Yet, she felt better with her big dog sleeping outside her door for comfort.  Why?  Her father lives one mile away.  And we don't live in a teepee.  We really have indoor plumbing, and it works.  Why must a kid be put in this position? Is it really worth it to keep your pride intact and your all important job in order to deny a father a chance to watch over his kid like normal people? When just the next night she comes over here anyway?  Why not just let her come over early?  This is coming from kids who were so scared at our house, with a big dog, at 9p.m. that they called their mother to our driveway to sit in her car until we came home.  Yeah, we tried the date night stuff, but stuff kept happening - sabotage?  Yep, we're flaky, we're screwballs.

I am learning though.  I didn't react.  I did ask her if she could ask next time to come to her dad's house, and expressed that while I was confident that she could handle being in the house alone, that she shouldn't be in that position. What's a stepmom to do? Worry, without the way to resolution, Love, without the bond.  It is our bane.

Grateful, mostly....but still...

I’d like to rant just a little. Most times rants are just crustiness aired. Sometimes they are hurts. I guess this one is a hurt over a sensitive topic.

Mom moved along to Goodness, and our family shared in a very honoring service for her. One day after her passing spouse-man told my oldest stepdaughter that it would be good for her to call me or send me a card or something – he was doing his best to give parental guidance. That lodged in the back of my mind, because after all, we all want to know that Everyone on the planet loves us and is there for us and cares about our life. I subconsciously noted time passing not hearing from my oldest stepdaughter. I admit, alright?, it made me a bit bitter knowing that she had told The Mother’s household about it before we had a chance to tell my younger stepdaughter. Once in a while I wander into the Why question, but this time I was a bit burdened by other things.

Three weeks after it all my oldest stepdaughter shows up with a fabulous card and a really cool ceramic thing with plants in it, with hugs and appropriate mood. No, no griping now, in fact I internally ate crow for admonishing her for her lack of manners.

And goll darn it if then my youngest doesn’t comes home and I showed it to her and she said she’d already seen it. My mind clicks in – okay, maybe a bit oversensitive presently – maybe not - and I realized this gift presented to me has visited The Mother’s house first. I don’t get it; the oldest no longer lives at home, drives herself all over tarnation and has what it takes to find these things for me, but they need to go inside to The Mother’s house first? Can anything just pertain to spouse-man and/or me? Does it all have to go through The Mother filter first? Can I just have a bubble around my mother’s passing without even that getting tainted by The Mother?

This is when I pray to myself to help let go of this nastiness … Lord, I know you see all of this and will set it all straight one day in everyone’s heart.

On Being Ornery

One of the great things about getting sleep is that it restores my ability to be ornery.  I like being ornery.  Ornery is the dispassionate way of getting revenge, in a cheerful sort of way – at least that’s my opinion (insert smile, little head bob to the left and right, and some blinks).  Most times I don’t act on my orneriness; rather I sit at my desk and swell in the joy of it – just a little.  This morning I got to swell in my joy when I saw an email referring to spouse-man and myself as my stepdaughter’s parents.  Well?  Why not?  We have the same last name after all.  I can’t help it if The Mother took her present husband’s last name can I?  I have never represented myself as my stepdaughter’s mother at any time, nor have given the illusion of it.  However, The Mother was included on this email.  I would put some semi-serious dollars on it that there might be a little fixing of someone’s foe-paw in the background.  We can’t head off down this little conduit letting everyone think that spouse-man is his daughter’s parent, now can we?

Respectfully, in an ornery kind of way, I’ll sit back and wait for the repercussions of this one - hey, I didn't start it.  Maybe I’ll be surprised and nothing will come of it … we’ll see.

Observing

After spending 7 lucky years of hurting and praying, praying and hurting, not necessarily in that order or consistency, experiencing exactly what Stephanie tells us about in her recent post about Trust, I am observing, and being open to a changing relationship between spouse-man and his oldest daughter. I have not yet healed from or built trust back, nor has he. It will take time.

A year ago when she got her driver’s license and car, she’d swing by our house in that newborn sense-of-freedom flurry, and we saw her more in that first month or two than we had in a year. She had a new boyfriend we didn’t meet until 6 months or so into it; earlier this year. We’ve watched her struggle with getting into college partly because of that "I want to do it myself" attitude, and partly because of The Mother’s lack of knowledge of anything pertaining to gaining knowledge. We’ve heard her say that she needs to "get out of that house" (The Mother’s) in frustration and in the same sentence tell us that she needs to "play the game" though because The Mother is going to "pay for" tuition. I’ve noticed – with detached faint joy - that she has called her dad somewhat frequently - more recently - in her efforts to get college information, and we’ve been severely dismayed by the fact that she wasn’t able to get her mother’s cooperation in obtaining financial aid – the cheap government kind. In the end, the end being actually getting herself settled into her dorm and starting classes, it appears that The Mother put her efforts into cosigning on a private loan with high interest…and the interest starts now thankyouverymuch. I won’t even go into other promises we’ve heard second-handed-ed our way that might make a head shake a little.

We were invited last evening to have dinner with her at her dorm/cafeteria where, she claimed, they serve pretty doggone-good food. And sure enough, the food wasn’t bad, and there was evidence that lunches and breakfasts were pretty good too. She has done pretty good for herself in that she works at the dorm which nets her free room and board. Amazing, free room and board, a loan for tuition and books – where DOES our child support go anyway? Yes, still. That aside, we visited for a whole 2+ hours. Yes, we sat down, met some of her friends, ate, had conversation, and I had hope. She is growing up and growing out of the clutches of her mother’s direct influence – to some degree. I have reservations, I admit, as she jumps when her mother calls her home to run an errand or fill in where she stops. I’ll bet as soon as school gets a bit busier those trips may decrease over time. When she gets older, molds her own life; not so many trips home. But she invited us over to eat and that’s cool. Spouse-man meets her after her class some days on his way to his. As we made our way to our car she looked back and asked if she’d see him tomorrow…That’s cool.

Yes, I Video'd, 'cept....

Well, the follow-up to the previous post looks like this – partly in hindsight, partly in puzzle fill-ins….

Yes, I video’d, on my own, except with my little digital camera video-ing capabilities, which really is NO match for the camcorder that cost twice my camera. The real camcording happened because the older sister was strong-armed (my words, however accurate they may be) by The Mother to get recordings because The Mother went out of town camping. Both daughters were upset by this and apparently since The Mother "made reservations" they had to go camping. Along with this, it became clear that our cheerleader, in effect, had to come to our house because, with sissy off to college now, she kinda needed to. Yes, sissy off to college, but called home once again to record cheerleading activities. And, with sissy off to college, I am recognizing now how much she filled in where The Mother left off: a plant was brought over to our house to caretake, a hermit crab was carried in …. No, you did not detect any gripey-ness in the previous recap.

To Video or Not to Video

It’s a dilemma. Tonite is the first high school football game and my stepdaughter’s first cheerleading experience in the real sports world. We’ve been blessed by having her presence in our house this week for the first time in 3 months ‘cept for 2 days 2 weeks ago. So we get to take her and experience a little reminiscing ourselves of sitting on hard bleachers, hearing the whistle, the cheers and, last but not least, the marching band. I’ll tell ya right off the bat, I don’t cheer. I don’t do the 2-4-6-8 Appreciate thing. You might, might, catch me on a good day at the baseball game raising my arms in a faint attempt to do the wave. I don’t have a secret desire to be a tv star or do motivational speeches for lots of money either. If you know anything about me, Limelight does not come to mind. Oops, I started to ramble-rant.

So here we are, the neglected stepfamily suddenly reinstated after a summer hiatus. The family cheerleader is very excited about this whole deal, especially since she is a freshman and she made the varsity squad (do they still use that word?).

She asks me last night: "Do you know how to videotape?" "Uh, not sure." was my most articulate response. She says, "Can you videotape me cheering since mom can’t see me and she wants to be able to see me cheer?"

Now wait just a minute, I didn’t envision going to my first high school football game in 20…25…um, ok, nearly 30 years to sit behind a digital camcorder recording cheerleaders so that The Mother, who is not present for some important work related unavailability, can see her daughter cheer for the first time in high school. We’re leaving work early to get her there early, why can’t The Mother take time off 10 minutes away to make a showing? Why can’t the stepdad camcord for his wife?

I suppose the Christ-like thing to do is to lovingly smile, pick up the camcorder and happily fulfill the request for this youngster who probably needs to see more Christ-like examples in her life, and who probably has no other concern on the planet than whether her makeup will be right, hair in place and if she has the right set of cheer clothes on per her coach’s request. I am, however, not feeling very Christ-like. My selfish, beat-up feeling, taken-advantage-of, and gossiped-about self wants to give a big giant NO and explain all the reasons why, point out every negligent aspect of her mother and throw in the stepdad too while I’m at it, maybe toss in a few other people and leave the camcorder on The Mother’s front doorstep and ring the doorbell 92 times while she’s sleeping.

Thanks for letting me get that out of my system.

Self Note: Read Eph 5:1 from The Message for an attitude adjustment.

Small Victories

Two daughters sitting at lunch with their dad. Oldest just took youngest to Orientation to high school. She drove 15 miles to come home to do it. The Mother had to sleep, or some other important work related unavailability.

It’s like being unfaithful to their mother, spending time with their dad, but they are free for the day. She calls them twice during lunch.

The Mother:    Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah, (Angry Tones) you forgot, wah, wah, wah, papers on counter, wah, wah, wah. (More Angry Tones) Wah, wah, wah. (Some yelling) Wah, wah, wah.

Oldest Daughter:    Well, next time YOU take her!

I smiled silently to myself.

Mowing On

Got over the Grrs.  There's nothing like physical activity to help you move on from your funk.   Yesterday I was doing this with hat on,  headphones wrapped around my ears (the kind that shuts out all else in life) iPod plugged in - and minus the seatbelt -  strapped into the rider mower.  No, my yard is not that big; I was mowing 14" of grass, aka weeds, along the drive at church.  And, no, riding a mower is not that big of a challenge physically, but at least I was out in the sunshine, breezes, great views of the front range and mosquitos. 

Here's a sample of my "Sing To" playlist - not definitive, just a sample:

My Maria - Brooks & Dunn

That Ain't No Way To Go - Brooks & Dunn

The Long Goodbye - Brooks & Dunn

Nothin' But The Taillights - Clint Black

Kiss This Thing Goodbye - Del Amitri

The Sad Café - The Eagles

Taking It All Too Hard - Genesis

Somebody Like You - Keith Urban

Celebrate Me Home - Kenny Loggins

Heaven - Los Lonely Boys

You Can't Resist It - Lyle Lovett

True Companion - Marc Cohn

If You're Gone - Matchbox Twenty

Holy - Nichole Nordeman

Water For The Wicked - Robbin Ford

Steady On - Shawn Colvin

The River Runs Slow - Sonia Dada

Woman In Chains - Tears For Fears

Your Love Oh Lord - Third Day

Agnus Dei / Worthy - Third Day

Thankfully the mower is loud - nobody can hear me belt out "How far is Heaven..."!