I recently read a blog on familyfusioncommunity.com, that reminded me of a story I did not want to share in my upcoming book, Stepping into a New Role, Stories from Stepmoms. Trish told a story about a time she wasn’t proud of, but she realized she couldn’t only share the good stories- she needed to tell the not-so-good ones, too.
Well, that’s pretty much what happened with me. I had a not-so-good moment with my step kids several years ago. When I told a friend, she said that my embarrassing experience needed to go into my book. I knew she was right, but I wasn’t happy about it. Well, if Trish can share hers, I guess I can share mine, too. Here it goes… 🙂
Not Evil, Just Human
My Story
Stepmothers always get a bad rap for being “evil”, even after so many years have passed since the infamous fairytale, Cinderella. They are often regarded as women who do not love or care for their stepchildren. Well for me, that is definitely not the case. I truly have grown to love Aiden and Jessie as if they were my own. Because of this love and respect, I have never said a bad word about their mother to them. I know how damaging that can be to kids. I grew up in a divorced family and my parents never spoke unkindly about each other. I always prided myself on following that same path. I’ve actually bragged about this to others. I was cognizant of what I said, measuring my words carefully, making sure to be neutral. Until, I wasn’t.
When my friend and I were talking about me writing this book, she said, “You know you can’t just put the good things you’ve said in there; you have to be honest and vulnerable and talk about the mistakes you’ve made.” So, when I made this one particular mistake, my first thought was, “Oh crap! This will have to go into my book!” She was right. If my goal was to help other stepmoms not feel so alone and helpless, then I had to tell them everything. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And this one was ugly!
Aiden’s high school registration was coming up. My husband said I would need to take him because it was on a Thursday, which was our day, and he had to work. I didn’t want to take Aiden. It was early in the morning, and I hated mornings. Suddenly, I had a great idea! Since their mom wouldn’t allow me to go to a school meeting for Jessie, (in fact she even wrote a letter to the principal stating that I was not allowed to be present at the meeting and that the teachers should not communicate with me), why should I be the one to take Aiden to his school function? Well, she couldn’t have it both ways. If she didn’t want me at the meeting then I guess I wasn’t allowed at the registration. Clearly she didn’t want me involved in their education. She could take him to his registration. I was off the hook!
I shared my idea with my husband, suggesting he tell Aiden’s mom to pick him up Thursday morning for his registration, since she had made it clear that I wasn’t to be involved in her children’s education. He told her, and her response was that she didn’t need to be there, so Aiden could just go with his friend when he registered. All at once, my inflated sense of self was deflated. So much for my “so there” moment. At this, I let the whole matter drop. Until Aiden told me that his mom was picking him up for registration the next morning. Yes! I was, once again, full of myself. Then Aiden asked Jessie when she was supposed to register. She said on Friday, and Aiden asked who was taking her. She said that her mom was. He retorted, “Well, why is Mom taking both of us? Why isn’t Dad taking you? Oh yeah, he’s working.” Gulp!
Now, the guilt began to kick in for me. Aiden never even asked me why I wasn’t taking him, but I decided to announce it anyway. “I’m not taking you because I don’t want to get up early.” Aiden just laughed, but I still continued. I told him that since their mom had made it clear that she didn’t want me involved in their education, I shouldn’t have to go. He asked, “What are you talking about?” I said, “Well, remember when I wanted to go to Jessie’s school meeting to support her because I love her, and, well, I’m an expert in education, but your mom said she didn’t want me there?” Aiden’s response was, “What? That’s so rude! Why would she do that?” Oops! I guess I thought he knew about this because I did tell Jessie that I had wanted to go to the meeting, but her mom didn’t want me to. She had asked me why, and I told her I didn’t know. That was all I said on the subject.
For some reason, I didn’t just let it drop this time. “Well, honey, I don’t really know why, but I’m sure she had her reasons.” I started, backpedaling a bit. Even though I knew Aiden was already feeling bad about his mom, and that wasn’t what I was after, I seemed to have diarrhea of the mouth and couldn’t stop. I continued with, “Yeah, your mom didn’t want me there so badly, she even wrote a letter to the school making that quite clear.” Did I really just say that? Crap!
Aiden put his face in his hands, leaned back in his chair, and gloomily said,”Oh, why did she have to do that?” Why did she have to do that? Why did I have to say that? That was the better question. What was wrong with me? For over five years I had been so good, not badmouthing their mom at all, and then, out of the blue, I started spouting off, uncontrollably. Those two kids did not need to know that their mom wrote a letter to their principal telling the school that I was not to be allowed in their education.
As I proceeded through my day, feeling terribly bad and guilty, I once again decided to consult my helpful, insightful friends. One friend said I should give myself a “pass” since I had been so good for so many years. Another friend, helped me realize what I was feeling, suggesting that maybe I hadn’t gotten over the hurt of what their mother had done, and that I, unfortunately, just had the wrong audience. This same friend also thought I was probably feeling guilty for not wanting to drive Aiden and, therefore, put the onus on their mom, rather than owning my feelings. She suggested I be honest with him, telling him that I was coming from a place of selfishness and should have never told them about the dreaded letter.
I decided to take both friends’ advice. I lightened up on myself, and later that day I took a deep breath, and climbed the stairs up to Aiden’s room to apologize. I told him I was sorry for telling him something he didn’t need to know, especially since I was just being selfish. I told him that I was acting like an immature five year old, throwing his mom under the bus, just because I didn’t want to get up early. I apologized for not owning my stuff and just admitting the truth. He graciously accepted my apology, and I thanked him for being so generous and kind. Then I told him to make his bed. He just laughed. I said, “No, I’m serious. You need to make your bed.” Ah, the complexities of parenting!