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I’ve been brooding over a comment that was posted in the SMM forum all week. Every time I think I’m ready to respond, my blood pressure starts climbing up (or I imagine it does, anyway). The post is titled Too Much Togetherness and it touches on a very touchy subject: what are the expectations of the stepmom during the holidays?

The following is an excerpt from a stepmom who is struggling with how to play nice during the holidays with her husband’s ex, who wants to spend Christmas night (as in slumber party) at her house. Here’s an excerpt:

“… For several years after the split, neither parent had a significant other, so they spent all of their holidays together. Their Christmas tradition included mom sleeping over, and that [tradition] continued even after dad and I started dating… Both mom and dad are resistant to having separate holidays because neither wants to be without their daughter.”

This scenario sounds very familiar.

The Husband (before he was the husband) had a similar arrangement going with his ex. She was re-coupled (and even had a new baby), but he was single. In the interest of keeping the family intact during holidays, the collective circus (there were 6 of them) all celebrated together.

What are the expectations of the stepmom during the holidays?

The first Christmas Eve we were dating, he spent the night on his ex-wife’s couch, woke up the next morning, put the coffee on and greeted everyone when they came downstairs in their pj’s to start opening presents. When I asked about this very cozy party, he explained, “It’s just how we’ve always done it.”

Who was I (the new girlfriend) to question it, although I wondered A) how does the ex’s new man feel about spending all his holidays with the ex-husband? And B) how are the boys processing this? Two men under the tree and just one of Mom. Is this what divorce looks like?

But, I went along with it until the next year and then I piped up. I had to. I wanted to know what the expectations were. Honestly, I didn’t want to spend every Christmas morning with the ex-wife; that wasn’t my tradition. So, I had to question the way things were done. At the time I thought, there may be only one of me and six of them, but if I’m going to join the family, don’t I get a say?

I understood the common argument that says, you don’t split the kids up between mom and dad on a holiday. I’m a stepkid, so I know how it goes. It’s a hassle. The upside is that two houses on Christmas morning mean more presents. Actually, it’s a pretty good deal for a kid.

Since the year I turned nine and my parents divorced, I’ve spent every Christmas separately with my mom and dad. And, you know, it’s been just fine. I adapted to the seperation. New traditions were made and I have fantastic memories, and no regret. Never have I lamented…if only we were all together like old times.

Sometimes I wonder when parents say they don’t want to juggle their kids between houses on a holiday… is it really about the needs of the kids or is it about the parents, and their guilt for dissolving a marriage and seemingly breaking up a family? That split becomes unavoidably clear when your kid has two stockings: one for Mom’s house and the other for Dad’s.

Either way, I guess any arrangement is dandy as long as it works. In my case, it seemed to be humming along nicely enough until I came along. All of a sudden, Daddy had a girlfriend and we weren’t both going to fit on his ex-wife’s couch. By year two, I wanted us to have our own tree and our own coffee to make. That’s fair, no?

Just because there’s only one of me, I still have a say, don’t I?

Truthfully, I felt a bit selfish requesting a change of venue, but why should I be expected to plug into the family power strip like some tag-a-long extension chord? It’s a lot to ask of a person. You meet the man of your dreams, but he has kids, an ex-wife and a lifetime of habits nobody wants to change. How do you fit in?

Here’s what I think. I, or any other stepmom, can’t fit in to an existing family unless everyone (kids and parents included) can let long-standing dynamics shift and be willing to welcome in a new member who has her own voice. I think that was my hardest struggle early on- thinking that I’m supposed to do all the compromising and just slide into a ready-made family without making a peep. Well, that’ll just drive you to drink. Believe me.

This Christmas will be our fourth and it will be our own. Festivities will be held in Texas and the short guest list will include The Husband, The Tall One, The Young One and I (their mother will have them the week after New Years). We’ll have a live tree, lots of contemporary carols and gooey pizza bagels (that comes from my side of the street). The men will serve their favorite Sarah Lee coffee cake, sleep in until eleven and nap in the afternoon. Some traditions shouldn’t be messed with, but they can evolve.

Photo courtesy of Davis Christmas Tree Farm

I had my first stepmom nightmare and I woke up sweaty and scared. In it, The Young One turned evil. Meaning, he decided to hate me. And I hated him back.

I get terror shivers writing about it. Like, if I spell out the horrible words, it might come true.

My dream followed this basic plot line: The Young One returned from seeing his mother (the one who birthed him) and set upon destroying my home. He scattered pieces of paper, erasers, pencils, gum and toy parts all over the house. He began construction of an elaborate 15-story crane in the middle of the living room and invited a herd of ratty kids over whom collectively, pissed on my authority. They said spiteful things like, “We can do whatever we want, Izzy. Get out of our way!” and The Young One gave me the look. The one that says, I may be short, but I’m taking you down.

That’s when I started to feel hateful. And a little bit threatened.

Okay kid. You may be the jerk of the century now, but when your dad gets home it’s all over. Except it wasn’t. The Husband buckled, lost his backbone and took The Young One’s side. He told me I was over-reacting! A heavy, metal crane would look just fine sitting next to my grandmother’s chair. Huh? The rejection. The abandonment!

I may be short, but I’m taking you down.

I thought, this is not good. This is very, very bad. If I become the bad guy/ugly stepmom, I’m doomed.

And then I woke up. Thank God.

I’ve heard stories of women who’ve battled so much with their stepchildren that their marriage eventually dissolved. I know women who have told their husbands, “You have to choose- ME or your kids” because living together as a blended family got too impossibly hard. I’ve read recently of stepmoms who feel alone and ganged up on. And afraid to speak up.

After I shook off my spooky dream, I felt so grateful that The Husband and I are a united front. Do we always agree? No. But, we discipline the kids together, and work out our strategy behind closed doors. I may not be the biological mom, but in our house, we parent as a unit. I can’t imagine how powerless and panicky I’d feel if my stepsons disliked me so much that they manipulated their dad in an effort to divide us. And were successful.

That would be a nightmare.

Ladies, a congratulatory toast is in order. I have invited you to spill the milk, tell the whole (gulp) truth and share your stories, the sweet and the sour. Just like a good milk-lady, you have delivered.

Your comments and emails in response to Marrying the Ex-wife have left me equally giddy and impressed. Indulge me for a moment and let me thank you for your insightful and honest words. My heartfelt thanks.

Adding your experiences to the mix is the very point of this site. I’ve said it once and I’ll repeat it: Stepmother’s Milk is a metaphor for how women nurture and care for each other in trying times* I’ve found that often the best pacifier is the voice of another woman, who lets us know we’re not alone. Encouraging a chorus of voices was my intention for this blog from the beginning.
*Or more literally, it’s an alcoholic beverage that dulls the pain.

Now, I’m not surprised that a post focused on the behavior of the ex-wife would generate animated debate. I’m quite certain that many of us have a few (in the hundreds) things to say about this popular topic. And when I say topic, I mean her. (What am I? In seventh grade?)

I’m not surprised that a post focused on the behavior of the ex-wife would generate animated debate.

The question I raised was: should the ex-wife be invited to the current wife’s wedding? Since it triggered such spirited dialogue, I thought I’d continue the conversation with a few new thoughts.

Jeanne (see Stepmom Spotlight) brought the following to my attention: She says, “I think just about every kid of divorced parents really hope Mom and Dad will somehow find their way back together. I think their instinct is for them to reassemble the pack.”

I’ve tried to remember if this was true for me. My parents split when I was nine. I know I didn’t want them to divorce (Why would I? They were sweet to me and appeared to get along famously), but I really can’t remember any conspiracy on my part to nudge them back together.

Now, every family does it differently. I’m certainly no expert, but here’s what I think my parents did right. They sat me down and told me it was over. And that was that. Dad moved out. Mom moved on. I started schlepping back and forth across town and forcing down two turkey dinners at Thanksgiving. Life was not going to continue under one roof.

They used the old band-aid analogy. Rip the MoFo off.

I can’t imagine my grief had I spent years hoping and believing that maybe maybe someday my parents would reunite. That’s just agony isn’t it? It makes my heart hurt.

After chewing my lip over this one for the past couple of days, I am resolute. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t invite the ex-wife to my wedding. The kids need a clear family picture. Why confuse the issue with a mom/stepmom jubilee?

Just over a year ago, I said yes to marriage and beamed without reservation at the man I’d be dancing with for the rest of my life. Standing beside us were two young guys in pin-striped suits, watching their Dad marry someone other than their Mom (who was 2000 miles away doing her own thing). Their toothy smiles indicated they accepted this. Mom and Dad weren’t getting back together.

A new beginning for all of us. We hope. Cheers.

My vision of the ideal wedding included the following: 1) My cake would be pink. 2) A gospel choir would bring down the house. 3) The Ex-wife would not be included in the festivities.

In my mind, these were all perfectly reasonable requests and I proceeded to plan accordingly. I found a Memphis music producer who assembled a kick-ass gospel ensemble. Check. I found a Pastry Chef who specialized in pink fondant cake. Done. I didn’t invite the EX. All hell broke loose.

I was called out for my discourteous social skills. I think the word used to describe my tactless behavior was “insensitive.”

Yikes. I was puzzled. How do I react to this?

Clearly, this could get yucky and no one likes a yucky bride. A resentful bride is even worse, so I resisted my knee-jerk reaction to please and quickly drop an invite in the mail. I asked my mother, “I’m all for getting along, but don’t I get one night off for good behavior?” No comment is what she said. Smart woman.

Don’t I get one night off for good behavior?

Was I missing something? Why does the ex-wife want to be part of our wedding? I needed my therapist for an emergency session on boundaries. An honest analysis of the relationship revealed the following:

The EX and I are friend-ly. For two women who share a history with the same man, we’re brilliant sports. We’re cordial grown-ups and behave better than most women splitting the needs of two kids. But, that doesn’t mean we’re pals, exactly. We’re not getting together to braid one another’s hair, and we’re not assigning each other the role of flower girl! For God’s sake, isn’t this my wedding? Can’t we get together for sushi instead?

Weddings are tricky. Politics are thick and money is typically tight. When you’re talking about organizing hordes of family and friends, there’s bound to be someone who doesn’t get their way (which is why supplying platters of crab cakes and free liquor can make you popular again). I just didn’t figure that on my wedding day (in between yanking on the spanks and fastening heirloom diamonds around my neck), I’d be worrying about the hurt feelings of the ex-wife. So, I didn’t.

Instead, I played the Belle of the Ball card. I was getting married in the Grand Ballroom of The Peabody Hotel. I had to stay true to character.

On June 10, 2006, I made a commitment to one man and focused intently on him. I was aware and accepted that our union meant I was marrying a whole mess of people: The Tall One, The Young One, the in-laws and even, the ex-wife. However, on our wedding night, her needs would have to wait.

I invite you to leave comments about “Marrying the Ex-wife,” but please keep it clean and reasonably kind.