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Yep, it’s been twenty years. Twenty years since I went to school every day dressed like this:

Okay, maybe not. Her disco look came a little later.

While it’s true that I worshipped Madonna in 1988 (I mean, who didn’t? ), I would have never dared to strut my puckly, pasty white thighs through my high school hallways. Talk about social suicide.

I more often wore consignment shop black frocks with lace leggings underneath, in an effort to mimic her popular “Lucky Star” look. I’ll be honest– no one ever mistook me for Madonna in high school. The only confusion I created was by wearing so much black eyeliner and ivory foundation that when I dressed up as a geisha one Halloween, no one noticed the difference.

Talk about social suicide.

Next month, I’ll be heading back to California for my twenty-year reunion. I booked my flight this morning after staring for the past few weeks at the “Reunion Reminder” card I got in the mail. For those of us out there hesitant to commit to the event, the reminder card lists “Why I Should Attend.” Here are some of my favorites:

1. Your regular friends are sick of hearing about your kids. (Good to know)

2. You don’t have to lie about your age. (That is a perk)

3. If you don’t go, others will talk behind your back. (Wow, I feel like I’m back in high school again! )

But, I was swayed by my favorite posse of gal-pals who are all making the trip. In fact, they’ve rented a hotel room for pre-party primping and a lightening round of Whatever Happened To So ‘n So gossip.

My girlfriends and I have been discussing not, what we’re going to wear, but what we’re going to have done? The last time the five of us got together, one confessed that she’d indulged in “a little Botox.” The rest of us were outraged and then we wanted to know how much it cost. I found myself staring at her forehead all night thinking, it’s smooth as snow. She’s a perfect snowflake. I allowed myself the fantasy (I can be a snowflake, too) and then I made the mistake of telling The Husband.

He frowned.

The Husband thinks this level of vanity is ridiculous ( I think he also mentioned sad), but to me, the twenty year reunion feels like the perfect justification for shameless conceit. I put the twenty year reunion in the same category as showing up at the Academy Awards or being invited on Oprah– one must consider facial freezing or plumping.

Last night, The Husband caught me reading in bed with a smile on my face. He said, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, this book’s so silly.” But, the book wasn’t particularly funny at all. Rather, I’ve taken to smiling whenever possible to help reverse the spread of lines taking a permanent position around my mouth. It’s cheaper than Botox and people think you’re really happy.

For now, that’s the only facial reconstruction I’m investing in. We’ll talk about how I’m going to fit into those pink hot pants later.

Stepmother’s Milk is pleased to present Jess from Palo Alto as this month’s Stepmom in the Spotlight.

Jess is a Bay Area gal who has formed her own stepmom community offline for advice and support. She’s a stepmom to three with a babe on the way. Here’s an excerpt from her interview:

“It’s helpful to have a group of women who understand the joys and frustrations of being a step-parent… There’s only so much empathy when a person hasn’t had your experience.”

Read more…

Image courtesy of terragalleria.com

It’s the week before Mother’s Day and I’ve kicked the festivities off early with my mother who just happens to be in Austin, Texas. We are two generations of stepmothers who have spent the past week spinning tales, laughing aloud, gulping margaritas and buying each other jewelry.

I encourage this sort of early celebrating…

I encourage this sort of early celebrating, especially with another woman who shares the blended family lifestyle. It takes the pressure off the actual Mother’s Day holiday* that so often forgets to honor the steps. Example: Last year I had the pleasure of reminding The Tall One and The Young One to call their own mother and then forget to acknowledge me. That was awesome.

Well, this year is different. I’m covering myself ahead of time with tequila and costume jewels. Any additional praise or material treasures (this is a shameless hint to the boys) will be considered a sweet treat.

Cheers,

Photo courtesy of The Tall One.

* I personally do not support Stepmother’s day, the weekend following mother’s day. To me, this only perpetuates the myth that we aren’t “real” mothers and only deserve second class status. Ladies, I’m just not buying into that. Are you?

If you haven’t had a chance to visit the Stepmother’s Milk forum lately, check out this interesting post that immediately caught my attention:

Bio-mom in need of advice from stepmothers!

I think this shows such bravery and honesty and I am so encouraged by this exchange. I continue to be blown away by those of you who aren’t afraid to show your vulnerability and who reach out to other women in the trenches for comfort, strength and a different perspective.

Way to go!

I’ve done something radical. I enrolled in an adult ladies swim class. That’s right– I’ve paid good money to squish myself into a bathing suit and parade around in a Lycra swimming cap.

I am not a swimmer. I won’t drown in a pool, but I never learned how to swim laps or dive without flopping or swallowing a liter of water. I’d crossed “swimming” off my life skills list, but when I injured my knee running a half marathon (another ridiculous endeavor), everyone said, “Get those legs in a pool.” So, I did and I have to say: I love it.

There is something so liberating about crossing out of my comfort zone (staying fully clothed and in control) and not caring about how I look to anyone else. You won’t catch me weeding the garden in my tight-bottomed suit, but stripping down at swim class and jumping into the deep end has been alright. And being in the water is divine.

You won’t catch me weeding the garden in my tight-bottomed suit…

I forgot how luscious it feels to be cradled in water, floating on it, moving through it, diving deep underneath it. At the end of the first class, I pulled myself out of the pool, wrapped myself up in a beach towel and felt that old familiar fatigue, you know, that achy, heavy feeling we used to get as kids after a full day of playing Marco Polo? I was tickled by the sensation– I was tempted to go buy myself an ice cream at nine-thirty in the morning just to top off the high.

One of the first posts I wrote for Stepmother’s Milk compared swimming with stepparenting and I just went back to read it. Here’s an excerpt:

“Some days the water is quite comfortable and I float easily on my back looking up at the clouds. Other times I want to grow fins and hide at the bottom of the deep end. Most afternoons, I’m simply treading water, but at least I’m buoyant and still breathing. It’s when I get overly-confidant and start showing off (Look at me, I can do a handstand!), that the words of my own mother speak into my plugged up ears, “Watch what you’re doing. It’s when you start thinking you’re a damn fish that you drown.”

Sound, motherly advice. No more grandstanding, she’s right. In this pool, you either sink like rocks or start kicking like hell.”

That was about nine months ago when my stepmom role was very new. Since that time, my perspective has changed. Plus, now that I’m actually learning how to swim correctly, I feel an obligation to revise my own metaphor.

Sara, my swim coach, says, “Swimming is less about the legs and more about your core strength.” In other words, stop kicking so much. It’ll tire you out. She was right. I was kicking like crazy and I could barely breathe. Instead, she suggested, “Use your arms to reach forward in the water, stretch your body and use your legs to glide you along… like a rudder.”

No kicking?

Today was lesson three and I came up with a little mantra to get me from one end of the pool to the other: reach, stretch and breathe. I’d say it over and over in my head and it helped me tremendously. I was able to concentrate and keep a steady pace. I was still darn tired after an hour, but I think we all were.

These days, I feel like this is the best advice I can give myself out of the pool as well. Instead of kicking like hell– reach, stretch and breathe.

Image courtesy of Women First Swimming

Ladies, sometimes we just need to get away.

Mark your calendars and save the date! Stepmother’s Milk presents La Belle Mere– A Stepmom Weekend Getaway and Retreat. The event is being held in Austin, Texas on August 8th through the 11th, 2008. Not sure what this is? Read more about this indulgent weekend of much-needed girl time.
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Hotel accommodations and details of the event will be provided by the end of the week. Check back here.

Got questions? Leave a comment or email me at izzy@stepmothersmilk.com

Let’s party down!