The mantra running through my head as I drove toward my stepson’s school was, “Expectations are planned disappointments; expectations are planned disappointments”. Aiden was on his way back from a school weekend retreat that was touted to change lives. Well, at least change behaviors. I loved my step-son, don’t get me wrong, but some changes in behavior would be quite welcomed. However, I knew I needed to stop expecting changes. This short retreat was not going to create miracles, even though all we kept hearing was that it did. I really wanted these changes, so part of me was expecting miracles, hence the mantra running through my brain as a reminder.
Once I arrived, I met up with my husband, and we hurried into the auditorium in search of seats. We spotted his ex wife and her husband, and my husband asked me if I wanted to sit with them. “Um, No!”, was my prompt reply. So, we made our way up the stairs, searching for vacancies, and then had to head back around the theater, right towards his ex, who raised her hand and motioned us towards her and the two empty seats she saved for us. Oh, fine.. We sat. The order was Brian, me, step-dad, and Mom. We had to wait for almost two hours for the seniors to get back from their trip. That was the longest two hours of my life. Really, it was. His ex and I have never had a comfortable relationship, so sitting there, the four of us, waiting, the tension was palpable. Cocktails would have been helpful! Sigh!
Finally, we were told that the bus had arrived. The kids, who thought they were coming into the theater to get their luggage, were going to be welcomed home by an audience full of their loved ones. They had no idea that we were all there waiting to welcome them back with thundering applause.
After the seniors filed in and sat cross-legged on the stage, the speakers began, one at a time, to tell us about their experiences. These were the leaders, or coaches, who worked with the kids on the trip. Following the leaders talks, the kids had the choice to speak about their experiences. I was pleased and surprised to see how many of them chose to get up and talk. One by one, each senior stood and emotionally shared what they learned and tearfully expressed their love and gratitude towards their moms and dads, who they asked to please stand.
As a stepmom, I noticed, of course, that many of theses moms and dads were sitting on opposite sides of the auditorium. I also noticed that many dads were absent, and sometimes the moms were absent. There were very few step-parents who were thanked in the crowd, and there was a scattered boyfriend to a mom and girlfriend to a dad who were thanked and appreciated by a few seniors.
We all wondered if Aiden would have the courage to get up and talk. I hoped he would; I wanted to hear about his experiences, and I knew that speaking in front of such a large crowd would be a confidence boost. As we all waited, watching senior after senior thank their mom on one side of the auditorium and their dad on the other, I suddenly felt so proud of us four. We were the only blended family sitting all together. Okay, I know, it wasn’t even my idea or my wish, but I was pleased with how evolved I now looked. And then my insecurities settled in. If Aiden spoke, would he mention me? Would he acknowledge his stepmom? I nudged his stepdad and asked, “Do you think he’ll mention us?” He just shrugged. Apparently, I was the only one shallow enough to care. And, boy did I care.
To find out what happened, be sure to tune in next week… 🙂