stepmothersmilk.com

Some wise words on stepparenting a teen…

“Nothing you do for children is ever wasted.”

– Garrison Keillor, Radio Show Host

“Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet.”

– Helen Keller

“Humor is the great thing, the saving thing…”

– Mark Twain

All quotes borrowed from The 312 Best Things About Being A Stepmom by Cynthia L. Copeland

On the subject of disciplining (or not) our unruly stepkids…

How are we supposed to keep a distance, not meddle and still exercise control over our own households? Hey, I may not be the mother, but this is where I live. I’ve been invited into this family and how far do I go in?

Many of you, I’ve read, are frustrated with your husbands for not exercising enough control over their sons and daughters. I’ve read complaints ranging from… He’s a pushover. He’s too indulgent. He’s afraid to be the bad-guy.

In my house, I often have the opposite dilemma. The Husband is a graduate of the School of Tough Love and he’s become a powerful Instructor of Discipline himself. His lectures are persuasive, but sometimes he needs to soften his delivery. I’m often asking him to pull back, not push harder.

So, naturally, I’ve wondered– what’s the difference between my situation and yours?

It seems that many of you who are battling with your husbands over a lack of discipline are living with stepdaughters. Could this be the variable? Maybe the dynamics are different when it comes to a divorced man and his girls versus a divorced dad with boys?

I may not be the mother, but this is where I live.

When I was younger, my stepdad avoided situations where he had to discipline me. He said, “I was afraid to [discipline you] and didn’t think I really had the standing to assume that role.” My stepdad left me alone, but he had no problem disciplining his own daughters– my stepsisters Piper and Gigi. When it came to his bio-kids, he was one demanding dude.

Stepladies, I understand we all have very unique situations. Every step family has its own set of defects that need adjusting and still, I’m curious about the common threads that run through our lives.

As always, please do weigh in.

The Young One, Prince of silliness and high jinx, is not the only jokester in our house.

He has me to contend with.

The other night, we had a laugh-off. How this works in simple terms is that we try to out-funny each other.

I was on a roll.

I’m not sure if it was the delirium from the sweltering ninety degree weather or the sweet intoxication from the Zinfandel, but I delivered a line of sarcastic assaults that got the kid cackling. And snorting. And hyper-ventilating. Then coughing. And choking. Until suddenly- he barfed.

The Young One threw up into my tropical garden.

Which, of course, got me laughing.

After he finished wiping his mouth, he scolded, “Izzy! You just kept going and going. You wouldn’t stop!”

I smiled victoriously. “How does it feel, Young One? How does it feel?”

He had no comeback. He knew I’d won.

Moral of the story: You don’t enter a laugh-off lightly in our house. Someone’s going down– right into the Mexican feather grass.

For Father’s Day, I thought it would be interesting to ask my stepdad of nearly thirty years about being a stepparent. He and my mother got together when I was nine when my mom and dad were still together, in effect breaking up my safe and simple family unit that consisted of me, mom and dad. If it sounds sad, it was, but I never blamed him– I didn’t see him as “the bad guy”, but as the man my mom fell in love with. And because I was so in love with her, I decided to give the guy a chance.

I quickly integrated the following words into my vocabulary: affair, separation and the big-D: Divorce. Other kids in the third grade had divorced parents, and while I never thought it would happen to our little threesome, it did and I remember thinking, just go with it, don’t be scared, this is just one of those things that happens. I wasn’t the type of kid that got angry and hostile, screaming things like, “You’re not my father!” I was quiet and calm. In fact, I’ve always been secretly proud of how well I handed it, but after years of therapy I’ve uncovered this: I have attachment issues. Big surprise, there.

I didn’t see him as “the bad guy”, but as the man my mom fell in love with.

My stepdad came with two daughters, Gigi and Piper, who became my big and younger sisters practically overnight. By the time I was ten, we’d all moved in together and I split my time schlepping between our house on the east end of town and my dad’s new house up north. Because I already had a “dad,” my new step kept his distance and now, three decades later, he explains himself to me.

“Your mother told me today you want to talk about step parenting…I was real worried about the ramifications of the whole thing and that included the impact it would have on you. My kids, (Piper especially), were solid proof of the difficulties marriage failures have on kids. When my First Wife and I were preparing to separate I worried about the kids and she said: Oh, don’t worry. Kids are resilient. That’s a lot of crap, and Piper was the perfect example.

So, when the time came to figure out what to do about [your mother and I getting together,] I was concerned…your dad called me, I think that is how it was, and said we should talk. We agreed to meet that afternoon at a bar on Fourth Street between Mendocino and the Mall…I got there early and had a double scotch. Your dad arrived and we talked. It was amazingly civil. Your dad, I think, asked what I was up to. I told him I’d fallen in love with his wife. I told him I was sorry but it was just true. I understood the difficulties this was causing you, that my personal experience with divorce and kids made me an expert, and that I would never try to do anything to get between him and you. He was pretty damn decent about the whole thing. He didn’t know where this was going and thought, perhaps, [your mother] would get over this lark with me and your household would be restored. We parted without anger. We didn’t shake hands. But he didn’t deck me. I thought that was nice. He had every right to.

I felt guilty about causing, or helping to cause, this separation from your father.

Well, the household was not restored and you know the rest. After a year, we all moved in together on Shortt Road and a year later [your mother] and I got married.

Step parenting was difficult. Not that you were difficult. You were not. And I wasn’t a jerk, at least I don’t think I was. But our relationship was a long simmer. I felt guilty about causing, or helping to cause, this separation from your father when you were with us and from your mother when you were with [your dad.] I avoided situations where I would have to “discipline.” Actually, I don’t think I ever played that role with you. I was afraid to and didn’t think I really had the standing to assume that role. You were not my blood kid and I helped cause the split and somehow I think I felt that precluded me from certain parental rights and obligations and duties. I ducked it. Left it to your mom. My dealings with you were in the context of my dealings with all three kids. There was safety in that.

Some months after we moved to Shortt Road, your mother asked me if I shouldn’t try to be more obviously close to you, to act more like a father. I said no. I said you had a father, and I was a step father and that it was going to take a long time for you and me to reach an accommodation and to get to know, understand, trust, like and maybe even love each other. I was not going to force anything. I felt that would have been artificial and phony. So, I didn’t do that and instead I’ve been on this long courtship. I think I made some breakthroughs with you over the years, and I think we’ve become pretty close. I am one of your leading champions.”

And as it turns out, I’ve become one of his. As a stepmom, I think I’ve followed suit in many ways. I haven’t pushed things with The Tall One and The Young One– sometimes I think I’m taking it too slow, but the nine-year-old in me remembers what it was like to have two sets of parents and the struggle that can develop over dividing loyalties. I appreciate what my stepdad did. By respecting my space, he respected my father and that grew into my strong respect for him.

For two people trying to keep safe distance, we’ve grown close– whether we were trying to or not.

To be perfectly honest, family dinner has been one of the biggest challenges for me as a new stepmom. Perhaps that sounds ridiculous, but until I settled down with The Husband and his man-children, I hadn’t sat down for mealtime with such monotonous regularity since I was a teenager. The Husband is used to the routine (he’s been doing it for years), but it’s taken me the better portion of the past year to digest the idea that dining at home involves more than just cheese and crackers. That said, I think it’s important for a family to set aside a chunk of time each day to connect, but there are those days when I think I might gag before the meal is over.

Family dinner has been one of the biggest challenges for me as a stepmom.

Surely, you say, dining with your ready-made family can’t be that much of a chore. It’s not that I can’t handle it (in fact, sometimes I’m perfectly entertained), but dining with children is not what I would describe as a relaxing experience. Especially, when you’re sitting across from kids who are not biologically your own and who developed their unique conversational style (bickering and often interrupting), and quirky chewing habits long before you came along.

I’m usually good for a solid stretch of four to five days and then I need a break. When I don’t get one, I become antsy and very afraid that the slightest gripe (this cheese smells like a flea collar) or primal influences (But, I like to eat couscous with my hands) might send me into hysterics so really, my negligence is doing the kids a favor.

As you can imagine, it was with great giddy pleasure that The Husband and I indulged last night in an expertly served and meticulously prepared eight-course meal outside the home. Mind you, we weren’t the only ones who abandoned their kitchens on a Sunday night. There were 25 of us who sat together at long, candlelit tables (sans kids) in a downtown art gallery; this is a growing trend in Austin: the Supper Club. Our meal took four hours to consume and included chestnut soup, scallops with caper and apricot relish, prime rib with yogurt and red wine jus and a chocolate tart with pomegranate sorbet that sent me over the edge.

If it sounds hoggish, it absolutely was, and if we’d left the boys at home alone with a pot of rubbery penne and four-dollar Ragu, I’d be suffering this morning from a guilt induced stomachache. But, they’re still out of town on winter break! The family dinner routine won’t start up again until tomorrow and by then, I’ll be ready to sit down to a simple meal at home with familiar faces.

Want to read more about dinner at Izzy’s house? Read this. Interested in hosteria verde supper club? Check it.

I present to you The Young One’s Christmas list. My stepkid knows what he wants and apparently, where to find it. He typed this up on his very own manual typewriter and delivered it to us with ample time to consider shipping costs. The price breakdown came on a separate sheet.