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.

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