A Letter To My Little M

A Letter To My Little M.

Being The “Stepmom”

They say that being a mom is hard but rewarding “job”.  Well I would have to say that being a stepmother is even harder and in my case not very rewarding.  I met my stepsons when they were 8 and 10…now they are 14 and 16 (about to be 15 and 17)…but not much has changed during this time except that I have given birth to 3 children of my own and truly know the meaning of unconditional love.

My stepsons didn’t have the easiest start in life.  I only know bits and pieces of what happened in their lives back then but somehow even though I have tried to give them stability and love over the past six and a half years, the emotional scars that they endured still linger.  Therefore leaving me with an unattainable “motherhood”.  Which in turn leaves me extremely frustrated.  When they were younger I understood that they were just young boys and that I was going to have to work at gaining their trust and love but I am no further in grasping that obstacle then I was when I started.  So why not just give up?

My husband had a step child for about 5 minutes in his previous relationship so of course that makes him an expert now on the subject.  Therefore trying to talk to him about it is pretty much pointless.  He just gets aggravated and thinks that I should just try harder.  But now that they are approaching young adulthood how much effort am I supposed to make when I feel no return?  Just like any other relationship at some point when love isn’t reciprocated one just stops trying.  It’s hard to think or feel that way but at the same time I didn’t give birth to them therefore the unconditional love that I feel for my own children does not come naturally with my step children.  And the feeling of wanting to nurture them has been shaded by the constant feeling of being the “step monster” even though I have been with them longer then their real mother ever was.

I accepted a long time ago that they had a mother and that even though she has been in and out of their lives that she was and still is their mother.  I have never asked them to call me mom nor have I ever expected it from them.  I had a stepfather growing up and I had no desire to call him dad because I already had a dad that was actively involved in my life.  It’s truly the lack of love and respect for me as the person who has been the feeling of stability for them for over the past 6 years that leaves me with this feeling of failure as a step parent.

They aren’t bad kids by any means.  They are your typical teenage boys with a few broken pieces that haven’t quite been mended.  My husband did a good job of teaching them about life long before I came along.  Even at 8 and 10 they knew how to “survive”  more then most adults I knew.   I guess somehow by me stepping in and trying to fill a void of female nurturing I thought that in time they would learn to at least say “I love you” without a disgruntled expression or mumbling it beneath their breath.   But nothing about that has changed.  And quite honestly the older they get, the harder it becomes for me to say knowing that is the type of response I will get.

Oh The Mess

One would think that moving into a house that is twice as big as the one before would mean that there would be more space and less clutter right?  Absolutely wrong.  More space means just that more to fill up with toys, books, coloring pages, crayons, blankets, socks, shoes….the list goes on and on.


(this is my bedroom at this very moment…keep in mind it was clean this morning)

I used to be a clean freak.  And in freak I mean you could literally eat off my tiled floors.  I would spend hours cleaning even though I absolutely hated every minute of it.  Guess you could say I had a bit of OCD.  Even after I had my first child I still tried to keep up with the perfection of cleanliness.  As a mother you know what it is like after bringing home the first baby…you think everything that could happen is going to and that germs are the pernicious demons.  Like I could literally see the germs festering.  I don’t think I slept much in the first several months after bringing B home from the hospital.  And when I think back to it this sort of fog comes over my mind.


By my third child it was abundantly clear that cleaning was no longer at the top of my list anymore.  I had a 2 year old, 1 year old, a newborn, and a husband who worked out of town and was gone most of the time…oh and two teenage step sons to deal with…you could say I had more then enough on my plate.  But the mess still bothered me.  There were some days I would clean up my bedroom and then just hang out in there not venturing into the messy parts of the house.  It was my cave and it was clean.

Now as my kids get older the messes seem to get bigger and I have realized that I am out numbered 3 to 1.  Some days 5 to 1 because the teenage boys in the house like to do things such as stuff socks into the couch and leave half contained glasses of putrid liquid lurking in the shadows.  My 14 year old’s room is so scary that I keep the door closed and never go in there.  It looks like a waste haven. We discovered he was the messier one when the two older boys each got their own room.  They used to have to share a room and it was a constant “he did it…no he did”.  Well now we know.


When I finally do tire of the mess and decide to clean I just think to myself why bother cleaning when we all still live here.  It just seems so pointless because literally 30 minutes later the toys have been drug out or someone has eaten and made a mess in the kitchen and someone has touched the outside of the dishwasher (will they ever have a dishwasher surface that is truly smudge proof?).


Needless to say my OCD has subsided through the years in which I probably have Zoloft to thank for some of that.  Now don’t get me wrong…if I know someone is coming over I will do a quick run through the house like a mad woman on crack.  Therefore if you just drop by unannounced (which I hate I might add) be prepared to step on a lego and enter at your own risk…I am not responsible for what happens because you failed to give me a heads up.


Now if you have boys there is always going to be the faint smell of pee in the bathroom and no matter what you try to mask it with, it just doesn’t seem to work.  I think it stems from the middle of the night bathroom urges in which they stumble to the commode and then proceed to mark everywhere but inside it.  You would think they would just learn to sit down and urinate.


I have thought of getting a ROOMBAbut then it dawns on me that “toddler nation” would probably destroy it.  ((Pictures children trying to ride the $400 vacuum)).  Not to mention it would probably give our poor german sheppard an anxiety attack.


(where do I get one of these?)

Right now I should probably be cleaning something or folding some laundry but instead I am catching up on some blogging and you know what?  I don’t care…the mess will still be there tomorrow and the next day and the day after that and I am ok with that.  I am ok because it’s my family and it’s our mess.  Now where is my wine and febreeze?

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Sick Of Being Sick

It’s that time of year when the “crud” starts making it’s way through my house on a regular basis.   Usually begins with the teenagers (who I am quite certain never wash their hands at school) bring it into the house and expose all of us to it.  First it’s the little ones who get it.  Starts with one and by the next couple of days all 3 have it.

Now usually I am too busy to even notice whether or not I have the sniffles.  Too busy opening numerous boxes of tissue and spraying everything that contains a surface, with germ killer.


I am a germ-o-phobe to begin with but mix it with any common cold “cooties” and I am in overdrive.  And no matter how long I have been a mom the look of snot running down my kids faces grosses me the f@*k out!!!  And I mean more then poop or puke in any form.  And believe me I have seen lots of forms of poop.

Nothing like moving along throughout your day and then BOOM!!!  The sickness comes on like a ton of bricks and you are down for the count.


Usually one calls in sick when feeling this way but as a mother of 3 toddlers and a wife of a hard working husband there is no calling in sick for me.  (Wonder if calling in dead is an option)


Mommy Has Left The Building

I am sure that any mother can relate to the constant use of the word “mommy” “mom” “ma” “mother”and “mama”  in which our children like to use over and over and over again…

I remember when my first baby was born and I could not wait to hear that word.  From the time he started babbling I started tying to get him to say mama…of course he said dada first…but patiently I waited and finally one day that life changing word braised across my ears…”mama”

Now it’s years later… and 3 toddlers and the use of that word have become as common in this household as the air in which we breath.   And quite frankly has lost it’s lusteur.  If there is one thing my kids are consistent at it is the use of that word.  Sometimes to the point that makes me want to run to the very back of my closet and hide…only they would still find me there or call out the word until finally I had no other choice but to answer them.


I have tried, on many occasions, to tune then out with no avail…ignoring them has yet to work either because they just become little monuments of loudness and the sound literally pierces my eardrums. (And I used to be the lead singer of a punk rock band in which my eardrums withstood nightly beats of loud music) But nothing compares to the screeching sound of a child screaming out “MOMMY” when they think mommy isn’t paying attention.  As I sit here in this very moment writing this blog and trying to concentrate I have been interrupted so many times that I have lost all hope of finishing a thought let alone this blog entry.

To only add to the madness my 3 year old prefers to call me just “mom” which wouldn’t be a problem other then the fact she sounds like a 13 year old referring to her mother instead of the sweet innocence of a 3 year old saying it.  Did I just put sweet innocence and 3 year old in the same sentence?

Now you might be one of those mothers or fathers or however you refer to yourself to a child, that thinks the sounds of little ones voices are like magic tones of colors bouncing off rainbows and well good for you…I am a mother who rarely hears the sounds of silence in my crazy house of 7 people.  Sometimes, when on trips to the local grocery store by myself I don’t even turn on the radio because these days those short trips in the car are about the only sounds of silence this mommy gets to enjoy.

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And then the fun began...