Why Stepmother’s Milk?
When I told my husband Hank that I’d be naming my stepmom blog, Stepmother’s Milk, he made an icky face and said that for him, “milk” triggered the image of breast feeding. Oh, Hank.
I explained that Stepmother’s Milk had nothing to do with breast milk or feeding. “There are plenty of mothers writing about this natural bonding, and from what I hear, lovely experience,” I told him, “but these are not the memoirs I intend to share. I’m a stepmother. There will be no talk of lactating, suckling or boobies in general.”
Stepmother’s Milk, rather, can be a metaphor for how women nurture and care for each other in trying times. We may be the grown-ups here, but we’re not beyond the need for swaddling, indulgence and the occasional cooing. Often, the best pacifier is the voice of another woman, telling her unique story that lets you know you’re not alone.
Stepmother’s Milk is a metaphor for how women nurture and care for each other in trying times.
The term is actually my mother’s, who became an instamom in her mid-thirties to two additional teenage girls. She was fortunate in those early years to stumble upon a group of Northern California women recently initiated into the S-mom club themselves. They quickly recognized that even one hour of indulgent, brutal honesty together was an effective antidote for warding off S-mom insanity.
In the early days, they’d usually meet at a downtown bar and share a round or two of very strong cocktails and laugh while groaning over their similar “spilled milk.” By telling their unedited stories in a safe and encouraging environment, Mom and friends gained a little perspective and found an intoxicating platform to vent.
And that’s how the tradition was born.
Legend has it that they chose the Ramos Fizz as the first style of ‘milk’ because it was one of those cocktails socially acceptable to drink before Noon. Over the years, Stepmother’s Milk became their general code phrase for, Help! I need to get out of the house and away from my hectic life now!
Getting together was their selfish time to celebrate each other, their friendship, their survival, the complexity and richness of their lives and acknowledge the fortitude required to raise children who aren’t biologically, but emotionally become, your own.
And this is my intention here. Here’s a toast to all of us and our particular blend of Stepmother’s Milk.
Cheers.
© 2007
Photo courtesy of Martha Stewart/cocktail recipes
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