Blended families are hard. There is no question about that. It is a never-ending barrage of things coming at you.
In the last month, my husband and I have had two of our biggest fights, ever. Even 5 years in, it can almost be too much for us.
I feel like this should be an “Am I The Asshole?” post. The line between who is right and who is wrong feels so fuzzy.
In both cases, I said “no” to something I was not comfortable about to do with the kids and his ex and that was an issue for my husband. Instead of accepting no for an answer, he got very defensive and kept aggressively pushing me for a yes. I walked away, but the fight continued, anyway.
For my part, I did not keep my cool or do any of the smart, stabilizing things you’re supposed to do when in a conflict with your spouse.
So, for the 2nd time in a month, he is choosing to sleep on the couch and we are not speaking. We were both triggered by the other into an ugly mess.
Which has left me thinking about boundaries. And what is acceptable, what is normal in blended families, and what I should have a “right” to say no to.
As I sit here, stress-eating a donut, I’m wondering why this has come to a head so badly lately. I have tried to put boundaries in place since Day 1. Why is it such an issue now?
I do not subscribe to the theory of “Nacho” step-parenting (“nacho” kids, “nacho” problem). I do, however, try to live in a defined space. There are things I feel are my place and those that aren’t.
To cite a very specific example, I don’t think it’s up to me to be solely responsible for his kids and their friends for a sleepover. He should be there. I get along with the kids but I am not the disciplinarian and if I get stuck, I’ll need him to be. I’m not comfortable in that situation.
I also don’t feel like I should have to give the kids, via their mom, my phone password so they can do some update or another. And I don’t appreciate having that confrontation on speaker phone on both ends. I’m sorry, but me and my stress donut say no, thank you.
My husband feels slighted. He feels rejected. He feels rejected on behalf of his kids, like it means I love them less. Is that what that means? Am I pulling back from parenting them?
I don’t feel like I am. So is this about him and how he is feeling?
Clearly, I have more questions than answers. I know that I regret reacting to how his words and tone with anger. I regret the yelling. But I stand firm behind my decisions. I do not believe I should have to do things that make me that uncomfortable.
I honestly don’t know #AITA? I also don’t know how we come back from this. The last time he apologized to me. This time, I apologized for yelling over 18 hours ago and there are still crickets. He has not spoken to me except to answer one direct question.
I usually try to find the lesson. What can I share that will help me, or someone else, learn from this. How can I be a better partner? A better parent?
I think I am still too close to this to know how to learn from it. I guess I’m just hoping to show that, no matter how good your life is, blended families are always complicated.
Bumps in the road still happen after 5 years of marriage. And it feels like shit (and so, incidentally, does my stomach after that donut 🤢), and in a few days, I’m sure we’ll figure it out. It’s a work in progress. Or as Ted Lasso would say, “prog-mess”.
We’ve kind of had a tough month around here so I decided to do something a little different today. Something lighter than my usual post.
My sick toddler came in for a snuggle at bedtime and lay on my arm. As I lay there, I felt some sympathy for the guy who picks the girl up at the bar and takes her home. Hear me out… I think there is the same level of good-god-please-don’t-wake-up-but-my-arm-is-asleep-do-I-have-to-chew-it-off kind of panic. It’s really not the worst analogy… that a toddler is like your drunk friend… clumsy, mostly unintelligible, and full of frenetic energy.
Although… I still stand by the best comparaison being that toddlers are like cats. Cats are assholes. And so are toddlers. Here are my top 15 reasons why this is 100% true. Toddlers are basically cats. Or cats are basically toddlers. Which is why they’re both assholes.
1. They love to climb on things and you have no idea how they got up there.
2. They can move their bodies in seemingly 27 different directions at the same time when they want you to put them down.
3. They like boxes better than expensive toys.
4. They like to empty the roll of toilet paper.
5. Affection is on their terms. You feel so special when they decide to snuggle with you.
6. They try to communicate but it makes no sense.
7. They like to knock things off the table for seemingly no reason at all.
8. They like to close doors and lock themselves in rooms.
9. If you don’t give them constant access to somewhere to pee, they will pee on your floor.
10. They are easily distracted by a ball or something shiny.
11. Nail clipping should be an Olympic sport. Same with medicine giving.
12. They actively ignore you when you call their name.
13. If it fits, I sits. (They love to sit in boxes or anywhere that can hold them.
14. When they fall asleep on you, you get stuck until they move or wake up.
15. They will continue to howl louder until you pay attention to them.
A little smile for a dreary February day. Feel free to add your own in the comments!
Time is a funny thing. While it passes at a constant, unyielding rate, it somehow feels totally subjective. I’ve spent the last few days thinking about the subjectivity of time.
Specifically, my husband and I just celebrated 8 years since our first date. 8 years. For me, that’s less than 20% of my life. It feels like I lived an entire other life before we met, and so did my husband.
In saying that, my oldest stepson just turned 16.
8 + 8 is 16.
Wow. This means I have now been a part of his life for more than 50% of it.
In taking it one step further, my stepsons live with us 50% of the time, which means that 25% of his life has been spent with me.
What feels like a drop in the bucket to me, each day becomes a more significant portion of my stepson’s life. This is even more true for my younger stepsons. We have been together more of their lives than their biological parents were. The thought of me in their lives is more “normal” than not.
The boys came into my lives at a specific point in time and I can’t experience anything before that. It’s that hard stop that sometimes makes me feel like I missed so much time. For example, I didn’t know them younger ages so I can’t compare Austin to them. And yet… Austin is almost the same age my youngest stepson was when Curtis and I met. All of a sudden, I will have a frame of reference for Austin’s development. It’s very strange to think about it that way.
I think I take this all for granted sometimes. I spend so much time worrying about my place in their lives. I have been a normal, stable part of their lives for more than 50% of it. I am simply part of what they know. When I think of it that way, it seems silly to worry… except that perspective of time is not the same for their dad – or for their mom. So maybe us adults still need a little more time.
Deep thoughts for a cold February day. I am going to try to remember that my place in their life is not fleeting and is significant. Mostly to have the confidence that it’s ok to be openly involved in their lives. They really don’t know any different anymore, and I’m not going anywhere, so why shouldn’t I be?
My son just started pre-school, which is bittersweet for me. He’s been on the list for that centre since I was 3 months pregnant. I’m excited he is finally in. Part time, but still… we made it.
On the other hand, I LOVE our babysitter and she’s off work now until next September (it’s November). I would stay with her in a heartbeat if it wouldn’t mean giving up my spot, starting over, and being screwed come September.
That’s not what this post is about. This post is about being a second wife in a small town.
When I took Austin in for his meet and greet, it was with the teacher who worked, in this very preschool, with all 3 of my step kids. One of the first things she said to me was “man, does he ever look like his brothers”. Yep, that’s right. My husband only makes boys who look like him 🙄.
This woman has a long history with Curtis and the boys. I’m sure she has lots of opinions about him and his ex and their breakup and their co-parenting… and I am stepping into the middle of all of that. That is something that makes me uncomfortable.
Love her or hate her, I’m not like his ex. If I’m honest, I don’t have much to do with her and I don’t spend much time thinking about her. And yet, I still feel the weight of all of their previous choices, good or bad. What will my son’s behaviour say about us, or about Curtis? What will it mean about our parenting? Will she see past all the history and just see me?
It feels like a lot. It caught me off guard. I didn’t realize I felt this way. Do I feel intimidated? Inadequate? Or will they think I’m like her? The lovely woman who runs the daycare has only treated me with kindness so I probably have nothing to worry about. Yet, I worry.
The other thing that struck me at this visit was how hard it is to undo damage to our kids.
I went to Germany for 8 days for work. I FaceTimed with Austin almost every day. He seemed fine without me. Then, I came back. He still seemed fine. Until I was back about a day. Then he got clingy and didn’t want me to go. He was shy and reluctant at the babysitter.
Then, my very sweet mother-in-law came to visit. She had been the one who looked after him a lot of the time when I was gone because my husband has 3 other kids and lots on the go.
When he saw her, you would have thought the world ended with how he LOST. HIS. MIND. He was so scared that mom and dad were going to leave him. And this wasn’t even “damage”, because my MIL is a wonderful woman who adores her grandkids and spoils them rotten.
So how does this relate to daycare? Well… when we went there, he wouldn’t let me put him down. And he’s 2 and a half so he’s heavy enough. Once he started school, he LOVED it, but every day he thought I was leaving him and going away. He still stands by the fence every day waiting for me to pick him up at the end of the day, quiet and sad. Like maybe I won’t come.
And then there is other damage… I’m finally feeling better, I feel more like myself. I’m stressed because I’m in tech week for a show and I’m tired as heck, but I feel more like myself.
And then my husband and I got in this big old fight because he feels like I’m not doing enough. I do so much for this family and I am TRYING MY BEST to handle it all and I felt like I was doing so well and somehow it’s still not good enough. And I spent the night crying and feeling terrible.
In looking at this a few days later, I realize that it was both our damage affecting that. I mean, I get it. I feel like that ALL THE TIME. With all the things I do for his kids. I feel like I have to do it all or it won’t get done (you should see my kitchen since I’m too busy to clean it right now… UGH). On the other hand, it’s like he forgets that sometimes it’s me having to do it all.
Stepfamilies are damaged. They are Beautiful messes at times, broken and put back together in different ways. A mosaic. Even in the best circumstances, there is baggage. History.
I feel like I need to find a way to limit the damage. To contain it. To not have it creep out in such ugly ways. I‘m looking for baggage that goes with mine. #iykyk
It’s been a tough couple of weeks in our house, so I wanted to end this with a personal win.
For years, we’ve been the ones paying for hockey and taking them to hockey. I’ve been very careful not to present myself as their “mom”. I don’t want to seem like I’m overstepping because I respect the fact that I am actually their stepmom.
I saw some of the other moms in their Mitchell sweaters, and I thought to myself, we have a sweater that we bought the oldest that the other two don’t want, I’ll bet it would fit me. In a last minute decision, I wore it. Screw it. I’m still not trying to present myself as their mom, but I am one of the hockey parents. I’m allowed to show it.
I’m also not sure how brave I would have been if she had been there. (Real talk… she came to a game the next day and I was intensely relieved I wasn’t wearing it). Well, take the wins where you get them.
Because my blog is titled Stepmomming 101, I often feel like I should be sharing my valuable lessons learned. See my previous Lessons Learned Posts for more of what I’ve learned throughout my journey. I think that’s where this needs to end.
So, what have I learned from all of this?
First, sometimes it’s ok to disengage. It doesn’t make you a bad stepparent, or a bad bioparent, godparent, grandparent, foster parent – a parent, period. Everyone needs a break sometimes.
This is something I need my husband to learn. A lot of bio moms feel the same way I do, but when they feel it about their own kids, people accept it. If you feel that way about a step kid… well, society tells you it’s not ok. My husband doesn’t think it’s ok.
My husband loves to say when we’re fighting that I knew what I was getting into. Oh yeah, sure I did. I knew I would get cancer when finally pregnant with our child. Then I knew that I was going to have that baby and cancer treatment while navigating a global pandemic. My point is: You never really know… and it’s ok to need to figure it out.
Whether it’s your kid, or your stepkid – it’s ok to need a break. It’s ok to disengage sometimes. It’s ok to prioritize your mental health. It’s ok to ask your partner to deal with some things. It’s ok.
Second, you can’t argue reality. This goes out to all my readers with teenagers. Or co-parents. There is no point in arguing reality. If someone wants to say the sky is green, and you know it’s blue… well, you can turn yourself blue in the face trying to convince them, but they still won’t see it. And you’ll just get frustrated. It’s not worth it.
My oldest stepson and his mom argue in the same way. And sometimes you’re like… dude, I saw you do the thing so don’t tell me you didn’t do it. I’m here to tell you that there is no point in getting into making it some big old fight. Don’t argue reality. You know what’s true. Be firm, confident, and just say ‘whatever’.
Third, there is power in stillness. That’s a concept that comes from Beyond the Boards, by Haley Wickenheiser. It spoke to me so much. There is power is stillness. There is power in calmness. There is power in the choice.
What that means for me is that I don’t let myself get pushed or pulled into something that I’m not comfortable with. I used to think it meant something if I didn’t go to ALL the things. It meant I wasn’t involved enough, it meant that I was intimidated by the boys’ mom, or it meant that I wasn’t a good stepmom. Now, I’ve realized that there is power in choosing. I’m not intimidated, and I am involved, and being in a tense or uncomfortable situation on a night that doesn’t work for me, is of no value to anyone. I have the power to choose what I let into my life. There is power in that choice not to engage. There is power in stillness.
Last, being kind is more powerful that you realize. This is something I have spent years learning. I used to rule by fear. I was small but mighty. “Though she be but little, she is fierce”, as Shakespeare would say. Ruling by fear will absolutely get you what you want but being kind will get you further. And, sure, people may not fall over themselves to shut you up, but it goes so much further in the long run – especially when it comes to step kids. My oldest stepson described me to his grandma as strict, but fair. I’ll take it.
I tried to be kind to everyone I met along this journey – and got immeasurable kindness along the way. I would have been forgiven for being a hot mess (and I was internally), but the kindness I tried to show to all those people in my corner was given back ten-fold. For which I am eternally grateful. I’m not sure if I could have gotten through this without all the kindness and support, I received along the way.
And from you, the few people who read this. Thank you for the support I’ve received from you. Thanks for sharing my journey with me.
And now, back to my regularly not-so-scheduled blog.
I think everything I went through has changed me for the better. I am more patient, especially at work. Like strangely so. Either motherhood, or cancer, the pandemic, or the combination of the 3 have given me a genuine ability to just say “fuck it”. Not my circus, not my monkeys. I don’t get into as many arguments with the kids, either… fuck it. Does it really matter if they didn’t put their dishes in the dishwasher? Do I need to be the one to nag them? There comes a point where I just have to let their father be the parent. I don’t always have to be the bad guy.
I think it’s also changed me for the worse in some ways. I definitely have more anxiety – a real inability to handle some things – admittedly it’s not the most I’ve ever had – when my father died it was wayyyy worse – but this new level of anxiety has created real challenges for me, and for our family.
I spent a long time feeling very afraid. I spent many months planning letters that I would write to Austin and what messages I would leave for my son if I died. I planned the milestones I would hit so he knew I was with him – I planned for birthdays, weddings, graduation, breakups… I had too many morbid thoughts and it really drove my actions, trying to prepare for the eventuality of my death. I think I’m mostly past that now, but there are still moments where I think about how my son would be if he had to grow up without me. For a long time, I couldn’t enjoy the present because I was so worried about the future.
I’m reading a book right now by Brené Brown, Daring Greatly, where she actually talks about that. I’m trying to take the lessons she teaches and be more vulnerable. I closed myself off during the pandemic, (and cancer, and a grumpy newborn) just to get through. Put your head down and get through it. My husband definitely called me on it numerous times as he saw me shutting everyone out.
Now, as we come out of the pandemic, I’m having trouble opening up, and making myself vulnerable to my family. I am a work in progress. It’s why I have taken long breaks between posting these. Sometimes I need a minute.
Today I had one of those vulnerable moments. I put myself out there as a Stage Manager in front of a group of teenagers – which was always the hardest audience even when I was a teenager. It was terrifying, even though it went pretty well. Afterwards I had that feeling of doubt and dread. What are they saying about me? Will no one come to the second session because I sucked so hard at the first one? It’s tough. And weird because it’s something I’m quite confident about.
One of the girls in the second session asked me for my slides. Her mother is a SM herself (AT THE STRATFORD FESTIVAL) and that was really validating for me. This same girl is in the next project I’m working on and remembered me. Putting myself out there was really worth it. Thanks, Brené.
When I first started as a stepmom, I had those insecure moments every day and I definitely wasn’t good at it. Those moments of crushing doubt have largely passed but I still feel them from time-to-time. Especially as I try to be more vulnerable with my stepkids and to erase the damage created by the pandemic and not just “get by”.
They also upped my antidepressant, so I hope that helps. I did a quiz at the doctor’s office where they try to figure out if you’re just anxious or actually struggling with depression. I would’ve bet big money that anxiety was my problem but, apparently, it’s depression. I’ve struggled with depression for years, so I’m not totally surprised, but it’s eye-opening and something I think of as I try to be vulnerable and put myself out there for my husband and my step kids.
As I focus on healing, I’m trying to remember to take time for me. As I said, I’m lacking on the exercise front, and I need to fix that. That’s been my “me time”. I’m also making it a priority to read. I love to read. I’m reading a lot of non-fictions, by some incredible women authors. Mothers, thinkers, ground breakers… they inspired me to write this. I don’t know them, but they got me here. I thank them for sharing their experiences with the world, so I could be brave enough to share mine.
As I stand in this post-pandemic world, two years cancer free, with a wonderfully saucy little boy, I’m weirdly grateful for what I went through. I do think I’ve grown. I like myself better, even if I’m not always the best version of myself. Whether I’ve changed or just found a way to embrace myself, I don’t know. I’ve also learned to love and embrace my friends and family. I’m so lucky to have all these people in my corner. Even if I don’t talk to them much, I know they’ll be there.
Blended family life is still challenging sometimes, but I’m left feeling that since we got through ALLLLLLL of this, we can get through just about anything. Knock on wood.
Father’s Day and the Great Grad Debacle, Summer 2022
So, I’m sure you could tell that Spring was a tough one for me. When I went back to read that, I could tell how tough it was. I considered re-writing it to make it more positive because I’m generally a glass-half-full kinda person but decided to leave it and put my real self out there. I’m on a new antidepressant now and it’s really helping, but I delayed posting my second post long enough that I need another chapter.
This year, I’m going to count Father’s Day as the START of summer. As I mentioned in last year’s chapter, the boys fighting is kind of a Father’s Day tradition – and boy, oh, boy did they keep that alive. Not only that, but my youngest stepson had a lacrosse tournament that day and his mom was doing something more fun, so he wanted to stay with her instead of going with his dad on Father’s Day. Curtis doesn’t want to put the kids in the middle, so he let his son choose – and then was upset for most of the day. Blended families are complicated.
Curtis was grumpy right up until the time we gave him his (I think, very thoughtful) presents and we all hung out on our patio. One of the things I love most about Curtis is that he will only remember the good. Eventually. He’s soooo not over it yet.
I went on my first real trip away from Austin this summer. Two of them, actually. I went to South Carolina for work, and I went to Toronto for a conference. It was hard. I missed him. He cried when I came back (like he was upset I left him) and that broke my heart. I have two more trips planned in the fall (one personal and one for work) and it will be so hard to leave him.
At the same time, I also really relished the time away from everyone. I took SUCH good care of myself when I was in South Carolina – eating well, sleeping well, and exercising. It was so nice to be on my own terms for a few days. Honestly, it was a great trip. In Toronto I was less good to myself, but I had some much-needed theatre-bestie time and planned our trip to Chicago.
And then I came back to reality… Put simply, this was a tough summer for us. Lots and lots of blended family drama. That’s all I’m going to say about that. The hardest part is that the kids are getting old enough that they can really see it and so that’s hard to navigate sometimes. It can be a bit of a blessing that they can (sometimes) see the situation for what it is, but it was tough all around and I don’t expect it to improve any time soon. The drama went right up to the Fall Fair and back-to-school times.
I actually would argue that things were better than normal until my stepson’s grade 6 grad. Each kid in his grade made a collage that went up on the screen as their name was announced. A picture of our half of the blended family was in that collage – which meant I was in it and his mom was not. For the record, we had no part of that, that was all him. Honestly, I feel awkward about it, and I don’t blame her for being hurt. I would feel AWFUL if it were me. Unfortunately, everything went downhill from there. It was a tough summer. Luckily, the brunt of it didn’t fall on the kids directly, but… oof.
Still, the summer was full of lovely moments – my birthday, Taitum, birthday, Curtis’ 40th birthday, my grandfather’s 96th birthday, new friends, camping. It was a hot summer, and it flew by. I believe I will remember the good over the bad. The trailer ended up being a really great thing. We made some awesome new friends next door, and we think my middle stepson had his first crush on the neighbour girl (!). Austin and I even went up there just to the trailer to spend a couple of days to play at the waterpark and the playland with the neighbours. He finally warmed up to the waterpark right at the end of the summer, of course – just in time for it to close. Just this weekend, we drove by the water slides. “Mommy! Pool! See that?”
This summer was also a wakeup call for us, financially. We were having fun and living beyond our means. Two thirds of our fence blew down in the storm and the insurance company would not pay even half of it, so we had to figure that out. It led to some tough conversations. I didn’t get a birthday present (which is ok, I don’t need one), but I know that was tough for Curtis to swallow. It’s hard to say you just don’t have enough money to buy your wife a gift.
After that, he sold the Monte. I didn’t ask him to, but he sold it to help us out financially. He sold it for more he paid so that was a win. We also sold my Civic because the boys’ mom bought our soon-to-be sixteen-year-old a car. We could use the money and we both had to pitch in. It helped. We bought ourselves some breathing room… for a whole day.
The day after selling the cars, we found black mold beneath the floor in our beautiful ensuite bathroom. At the time of writing this, our insurance company has already denied our claim, so all the money we got will have to go to the repair. As a side note: What the heck are we paying these insurance companies for, anyway? As far as I can tell, barely anything is actually covered. Insurance is such a racket. But I know if I didn’t have it, then something worse would happen so here I go, paying for it still.
Between stepfamily stress, money stress, and house stress, this summer has been a lot. It’s still better than the early pandemic days, and my new meds are helping, but I still struggle some days. More than just some days.
Even the trailer, while an awesome thing, meant that we were not home as much and so a greater number of things had to fit into a shorter amount of time. If we do it again next year, I’d like to have a bit more balance. Last summer we spent a lot of time at home and with our neighbours and I missed that this year. So did Austin.
One thing I’ve taken away from this summer, was that I have actually found more self-acceptance than I ever expected. In reflecting on this… I’m still super self-conscious and maybe noticing that my self acceptance (if not my self confidence) is better than expected is a sad statement, but I take the wins where I can get them.
Even during most locked down parts of the pandemic, I always did my hair and makeup. I have never been one to be seen without makeup. I took progress pictures of my weight loss and worked hard to feel better about myself. It wasn’t until we started going up to the trailer for days at a time, where were trying not to fill our gray water tank and I was also running around after children in the blazing heat, that I stopped doing my hair and makeup. I threw my hair up in a ponytail and went on with my day. I don’t have the kind of hair to do the stylish messy bun or top knot, but I didn’t care. I wore sweatpants and I was just myself. For the first time, maybe ever.
I also had plans for running 3 times a week and doing daily yoga, which never happened. That one I’m less proud of. I love my workout time and it’s been hard to get back into it since I stopped. I feel the effects of that. My body is sore and weak now from lack of exercise, so I know I have to get back on the wagon. I’m trying to still love myself.
I have managed to keep myself around the same size I was before the summer. I just need to get back into taking care of myself. Eat better, sleep better, exercise regularly. The secret to whatever sanity I have left.
I actually went out-of-order to write this part… Although it will be posted after the fact, I wrote this in real time, without the benefit of perspective.
As I said before, I am writing this as we are coming out of the pandemic. We have never been a family of 6 outside of the pandemic. We cannot go back to life as we knew it in the before times. We have to navigate this new world together.
Honestly, we’re having trouble finding our rhythm. Our roles have changed. For example, we are geniuses with only one car seat so I’m the one who always picks up Austin. Which, for a long time meant that I was the one who was home first. Which also meant that I was the one who came home to a disaster of a house and who made supper. In the before times, my wonderful husband used to clean up and cook every night before I got home. Now, by the time supper is ready, I’m hella stressed, but I can’t make the hangry toddler wait until Daddy gets home to start supper.
This has led to some struggles in our marriage. While I’m flattered that everyone thinks I can do it all, I was about one urgent-itunes-request-while-holding-a-grumpy-toddler-while-trying-to-make-supper-while-stepping-over-toys moment away from a nervous breakdown. I am snapping at everyone.
Curtis, for his part, feels unloved. He needs more connection for me. I have to own that. I have to work on that. I didn’t realize how much my reaction to my stress was affecting him. I like to blame our blended family situation for our arguments, but right now a lot of it is coming from me.
That nasty fight I mentioned in an earlier post included 3 nights for him on the couch (his choice). It has turned into a bit of a mixed blessing. We’re finding our way through this. We are both working harder. He’s coming home sooner and I’m trying to make sure I spend more quality time with him (and I still need to work harder on that). Now, when I come home, at least half the time he’s working on supper, and it’s helped with my stress immeasurably.
For him, tonight, we’re going on our first date night since Austin was born. We’re going to see Top Gunin the theatre. We’re trying. He’s holding up his end of the bargain a bit better than I am, but we’re trying.
So where are we now?
Well, the kids are still not all vaccinated so that may still come to a head, although most of the mandates are being lifted for sports so it may also not end up being a thing after all.
We parked our trailer next to my bestie. A very last-minute decision, for better or for worse. Our neighbour on the other side seems pretty awesome as well. We survived our first long weekend there without any massive meltdowns. Minor, but not massive. I have a feeling it’s going to be a great summer – but still a challenging one. Both Curtis and I need to let go and not expect perfection. Curtis struggles with that… a lot. Even more than I do. In some ways I love that about him – he’s the eternal optimist when it comes to his kids. He just gets so upset when things go south (and they almost always do).
Austin had the bump on his tongue removed. He was born with this little white bump on his tongue that they thought might heal itself, but never did. They have been monitoring the whole time, especially given what I went through while I was pregnant. It didn’t grow or change so they weren’t too worried, but it was time to get it removed, while he was small enough to not be traumatized by the whole thing.
The surgery took about 5 minutes. They didn’t even have to put him under, but it was still one of the most stressful situations I’ve ever been through, sitting with him in a hospital bed and then waiting for him to come out. He did so well. My poor, sweet little guy. Although they were pretty sure it was nothing, a few days later, we got the amazing news that it was just a cluster of nerves and there was no sign of anything scary.
I also went to see my Grey’s-level surgeon for my quarterly checkup. She was on mat leave, so I saw another, very kind, doctor. Everything looks good, so I get to drop down to every 6 months for checkups. Twice a year. It may not seem like much, but for me, that’s a huge win. Scans once a year, checkups twice a year. It feels amazing.
Spring wasn’t all bad. We had a very fun birthday party for Austin with his two baby besties. I also had a lovely Mother’s Day (despite the numerous “time outs” for Austin). He also had fun at his first indoor playground for Kai’s birthday and playing outside with the neighbours.
This spring, Austin and I went on two overnight trips with Andrea and her little. His first trip to a hotel and to a water park. And I think that’s it until he gets a bit older. Partly for my sanity. Travelling with toddlers is, honestly, the worst. Especially two or three of them. One time they contracted hand, foot, and mouth, which Austin didn’t get too badly, but took out the whole babysitter. The other time we all basically got no sleep, and I asked another girl to watch Austin for a moment while I got changed… and she didn’t, and he wandered away. Definitely top 5 for scariest moments of my life.
The trips were a bit of a waste of money and I think that he may now be afraid of water parks. Which is great because our trailer park has a water park and a splashpad. I guess we’ll see how that goes.
Next month, I’m going to be doing my first real travel since the pandemic started. It’ll also be my first time away from Austin. I’m both excited and scared, and I’m half convinced that I’m no longer going to be able to avoid getting COVID. I’m trying to be ok with that. I’m travelling for work, and it feels like a big deal on all fronts.
Speaking of big deals… I am honoured to say that I was picked to say something for International Women’s Day on behalf of Canada for the Americas Region. I don’t know if it’s just because I know the HR team or if they actually find me inspiring, but it really meant a lot to me to represent Canada. I had to write a blurb and it was really hard to put everything I am, everything I feel into words, especially since I sometimes feel like I’m barely holding on. Here’s what I settled on:
Women today have so many different roles. Like most working moms, my life is a juggling act. I am a mom, a stepmom, a professional, a cancer survivor, a hockey parent, a pandemic homeschooler, a stage manager, and more. All of this and none of this defines me. Embrace the chaos. You don’t have to be perfect to be great. #breakthebias
All I Want for Christmas is a COVID Test, Fall/Winter 2021
Fall always seems like new beginnings. For us, there was a new school for my youngest stepson, and a new babysitter for Austin.
I LOVE his new babysitter. Beyond words. To my delight, she is taking one more year off so he can stay a little longer. My friend Andrea is also bringing her little guy there and I absolutely love the friendship they’re building. It’s very sweet.
At 18-months, Austin was a little “behind” on his words. I don’t know if it was the pandemic, or the environment he was in, or just him, but we were a little concerned. As I mentioned earlier, I was hearing the same thing from a lot of pandemic mamas – that speech was a bit behind. We had to start tracking his words for another check at 2 years. (Spoiler alert: he has caught up to “normal”, if not all his peers)
With school back, we started to get into more of a routine. Hockey was also back, and we returned to some semblance of normalcy.
The biggest issue I remember having at this time was because my son NEEDS to nap, even now. He needs routine. Without it, he’s a HOT MESS. He doesn’t sleep in the car, so it also has to be in a bed. I know we missed a lot of hockey games and other things because he had to nap – and I know that frustrated Curtis. We did what we could, and I stand by that choice. We just did let him go without a nap this past weekend and… HOT MESS (and tired mama).
In the fall, my oldest stepson received his diagnosis from the doctor. Honestly, I feel horrible saying this, but I don’t know what it is. I never read the report. At this point, I can’t even tell you why that is. Since I’m not his parent, I didn’t push the issue. I’m just glad he’s getting the help he needs. We were finally on the right path for all the kids.
Fall was overall pretty quiet and cooperative. We had some of the usual blended family struggles, but overall nothing catastrophic. Hallowe’en wasn’t on our day again this year and, once again, it was more dramatic than it needed to be. But we made it all work. Even with Austin’s outrage at being made to wear the Elmo hat.
Cold weather came and COVID cases rose, so my oldest stepson had another quiet at-home birthday. We tried to do the best we could for him, under the circumstances. His friend wasn’t vaccinated so he couldn’t go to the movies. So, movie night at our place (at the time when the studios were still releasing new movies at home), and some quiet fun.
In one of the high points for the fall, our whole family decided to go skating for my work Christmas party – and we had a great time. (I’ve had the same skates since I was 14 and I think I need new ones!). We had this lovely little day. I won’t lie, those things don’t always go well, but I’m grateful this one did.
Things got a little more stressful come wintertime. If you remember, Omicron was raging through the world at this time and this year’s toilet paper was boxes of rapid tests. I couldn’t find one for the life of me. Curtis even tried to convince his work to give me one. I tried to convince him to let me use one of the kids’ school ones. It was a stressful time (and caused some stress between Curtis and me).
I ended up going to my family Christmas alone (with Austin) and rapid testing in the car because we couldn’t find a test to do before we went. Curtis stayed home to spend the rest of the time with his kids before they went to their mom’s for Christmas. We have tried for many years to switch the times around so that we can all go to my Christmas every other year, but we have so far been unsuccessful. I know we’re not alone in the blended family Christmas stress, but it always puts a bit of a damper on Christmas, and I wish we could get past this part.
We waited to open all the presents until the kids returned on Boxing Day. It was a good day.
COVID did its winter uptick, and it made my cancer checkup go virtual. I hit the two-year mark since my surgery and had no concerns, so it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t need them to see anything. My doctor told me that I was past the highest risk part, but that it was not time to relax and stop checking. Still, I breathed a huge a sigh of relief. #winning.
My middle stepson also turned 12 in January and had another pandemic birthday. (Where he wanted to go was closed because of the pandemic.) Turning 12 also meant that he was on the clock to get vaccinated. Their mom had taken the younger two to get their first shot (one did – but this one, the one who turned 12, DID. NOT. WANT. IT). He fainted at the sight of the needle and would not consider trying again.
Don’t ask me how, but Curtis convinced him to do it and booked a second appointment, on the same day I got my booster. It took over 2 hours and for his friend’s mom, who was working at the clinic, to come over as his own special nurse, but he did it. And after ALLLLLL that, he said it wasn’t bad at all.
That nurse is a Facebook friend and messaged me after to praise what a kind and patient parent Curtis is (and he said the same about her). He really is a gem.
We were on our way… but then when the time came for them to get their second shot, their mom said no. You need both parents’ permission. If you know me at all, you’ve probably heard me say, “not my circus, not my monkeys”. I especially live by this at work, where I have a tendency to get involved in things that really aren’t my problem.
Now, I am not a “nacho” stepparent (nacho kids, nacho problem). My house is my circus, and those kids are still my monkeys, but there comes a point where the fight isn’t mine. That’s where I stood on vaccination. I support vaccination, and if that makes you not want to read this, I’m ok with that. When it came to the kids, I wanted them to be vaccinated. I wanted them to be safe. I honestly don’t know the real reason behind why their mom didn’t want them to do. I have my theories on why… but I’m not going to air them here. I did know it wasn’t my fight.
We didn’t fight it and, to be fair, it hasn’t stopped us from doing anything. The restrictions here in Ontario eased just in time and have not come back yet. Another lesson in picking battles.