Playdates - Part 2

I suppose I was overreacting.  Although, this is the first in my life I was ever overreacting in the parental sense.  After those first two playdates, I feared Minnow would forever fit into social outcast territory and I had only myself and Abel to blame.  That said, it was a huge relief when she actually functioned as a somewhat normal child with three separate individuals.  I'm not quite so sure I'm completely convinced because now, when one kids leaves, I'm all, who's next?  Who should we call?  Honestly, I think it has a lot to do with me not really being a kid person.  I can't play with Minnow in the same way a kid her age can.  I mean, I guess I could, but I am so ADD when it comes to child interaction.  So if a playdate is lined up, I feel less guilty about pursuing my own interests.  Selfish, I know.  This is why I am conflicted about having children of my own.  

I'm feeling really really good about stepparenting right now.  Minnow is doing little things that show she might actually have some appreciation for having me in her life.  Sometimes she'll come up and give me a hug.  Yesterday she wanted us to refer to her as "little Estella" and me as "big Estella."   She'll pick out clothes in the morning that match mine.  I consider these to be sweet little gestures that make me feel like maybe I'm doing something right.  

Playdates

Minnow had a playdate come over after school for the first time recently. The child is 7 years old and this was really her first official playdate. I kind of feel embarrassed even admitting that because it doesn't seem right, especially since Abel and I didn't exactly initiate this playdate. Minnow has always done really REALLY well at keeping herself occupied so it hadn't really occurred to either of us that playdates were necessary. That is, until her first one. Let's just say, the behavior displayed by our sweet little Minnow had me fearing the worst, envisioning life 10 years down the road. Maybe it's a selfish motivation, but I am acutely aware that the time we invest in Minnow NOW will determine our future happiness. The happiness of us as a family and the happiness that Abel and I will share together. It's very important to me....this happiness.

After Minnow had fallen asleep after that first playdate, I shared a nice long chat with Abel about how concerned I was. These things, these issues, they seem to really concern me a lot more than they do Abel. I was having a bit of a minor meltdown, actually. I had convinced myself that the damage was done. That Minnow would forever have issues and will definitely need therapy as soon as possible. I'm really not normally this dramatic of a person, I swear. Even I was getting sick of hearing myself obsess over this issue.

Take two. Another playdate, same kid. Again, not initiated by us. You mean, OUR kid didn't scare off YOUR kid the first time? So the playdate goes and ends again, not so well. Something is different this time though. Different with Abel. For the first time ever, he is admitting defeat. "I feel like I've failed as a parent," he tells me. I assure him he hasn't. Still, I feel some sense of relief that he is admitting that things aren't right. Finally, he is taking this as seriously as me and I feel really good about that. Sometimes he is so laid back about parenting that I resent the energy and thought that I put into it myself. Even so, I want to talk about this again and he doesn't. He is tired. "I can't just FORCE her to play well with other kids here if she doesn't WANT to," he says. This statement alone worries me, therefore, the conversation is definitely not ending. Then, Abel finally says something to redeem himself. It's so simple really, though I hadn't thought of it myself. He tells me that maybe Minnow and the kid are too similar in personality. "You know how the baby ducks just follow Minnow around the yard," he says. "Maybe she just needs a friend over that will follow her around and let her do the decision-making." That's all I had to hear. That was THE valid point of all valid points. Bring out playdate kid #2.

(to be continued...)

The Deadbeat Mom

My internal struggle with my role as stepmom is the main reason I started this blog. I want to feel like I'm a good stepmom, but I always feel like I could and should be doing more. I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I am simply the best stepmom I can be. By that I mean that I can only give so much of myself before I start resenting my role. When resentment rears it's ugly head, I am no longer a stepmom. I fall into the role of stepbitch. Guilty loses its power and anger takes over. Since the choice is either guilt or anger, GIVE ME GUILT.

And when I feel guilty and I'm looking for something to make me feel a little bit better about myself, I like to reflect upon the efforts put forth by the OTHER woman Minnow calls mom. I'll admit that after 4 years, I don't know that much about her. I know not of her occupation, nor of her address. I know she likes to throw around terms like goddess and healer, spirit and skydancer. With good reason, I imagine her extracurricular activities involve dancing naked around bonfires while beating on a drum. (I'm not kidding.) I know she values those in her life she calls friends and I know that she partakes in "healing" retreats. Most importantly, I know that all activities in her life take precedence over being a mother to her daughter. And after reminding myself that THIS is the woman I am comparing myself to, suddenly and immediately, I feel less like shit. Yea me.

Puzzling, It Is

The scene was picture perfect. Minnow and I sat at the coffee table together as we worked on a puzzle. She was happy. I was happy. There's a word for this type of interaction. I believe it's called bonding.

Things were going so well that we decided to work on another puzzle together. Minnow got a head start on it before I joined in a few minutes later. She points to her section of the completed puzzle and says, "I've got a lot more of the puzzle done than you, you know?" Yeah, that happy soundtrack that was playing in my head? I can't hear it anymore. I say nothing. And then...a miraculous thing occurs. Minnow utters the phrase, "I'm sorry, mom. That wasn't a very nice thing to say, was it?" I want to hug her and kiss her for showing this kind of sensitivity. This is a MAJOR breakthrough, people. "You're right, Minnow. It wasn't a very nice thing to say but I'm glad you recognized that," I said. Cue happy music again. A few seconds pass before Minnow regains her title. "But I really do kind of have more pieces put together."

One Nice Thing

A stepmom once posted a question to all the other stepmom's out there on Second Wives Cafe titled, "What's one nice thing you can say about your stepkid's biological mom?" Not kidding, I spent the entire day periodically pondering this one until I could deliver my response: she has nice handwriting.

Sleeping Companion

Jealousy HAS to be the worst trait inherited upon becoming a stepparent. It was jealousy that took over my mind and body when I awoke at 10:30 p.m. last night to discover I was in bed alone. The end of "The 40-Year-Old-Virgin" played in the background as I wandered into Minnow's room. I looked down at Abel, tucked beside Minnow in bed and asked, "What are you doing?" The words came out of my mouth as if I had just caught him cheating on me with a coworker. He mumbled incoherent sleepy words and made his way to our room to slip under the covers of our bed. OUR bed.

Abel hadn't been cheating on me in the true sense, but nonetheless, it felt this way. It took all my strength not to start in on him last night. "Don't you think it's a little GROSS to still be sleeping with your daughter" is what I wanted to ask him. It wouldn't be a fair question though. It comes off as accusatory and because of that, it's not fair. It's not fair because if Minnow were my biological child, I'm convinced it wouldn't have bothered me to the same degree.

This morning as I emptied the dishwasher, Abel playfully wrapped his arms around me. I brushed him off, avoiding any mention of last night. This didn't get a reaction from him. Still confused as to how I deal with these emotions without coming off as a child myself, brushing him off is all I can do.

Easily Impressed

Minnow is at the computer when she calls me into the room. As I make my way towards the living room, I envision her pointing towards the monitor, shrieking, "What is he doing to her?" Call me paranoid, but ever since a particular incident at school, I now fear the worst. "Mom, you know that one game where I dress up the girls? How do I get to that game again?" I go into history and find the site, then bookmark it as she studies the screen with every click of the mouse. Once I show her the new bookmark in her folder titled, "Minnow", she exclaims, "Whoooooaaa. How'd you do that?" After spending the past two days trying to absorb an ounce of intelligence in web development, suddenly it feels as if I've been crowned "tech geek."