Creativity

My two amazing stepdaughters are definitely creative! They would go through a roll of tape per week if we had the resources to buy them that much and a big enough house to display all of their sculptures.

Since EVERYONE seems to notice this, I definitely have adopted the lense of creativity for looking at them, looking at our home and family. Today, I noticed that the same kinds of things that we would see at creative when children do them aren't considered creative when adults do them.

So what is the definition of creative. I've decided that for me, it is going to mean anything that is done in a way that no one else (that I know of) has done it.

How freeing and affirming! Now I notice how very creative I can be, even when I'm not trying to be!

I'll continue to enjoy the girls' homemade Mother's Day cards and gifts with great joy! Now I can enjoy my own efforts with the same joy. How delightful!

I'm not THE end all be all

I was thinking about my role today.

I think that in Heaven, the souls of my beautiful step daughters decided what they wanted to learn while they were down here on Earth. The angels helped them put together a plan with all the lessons and all the players who would walk on their journey with them.

They chose someone else to be their mother. They chose me to play the stepmom. They knew what they were doing, so I agreed to play this role to the best of my ability.

That means that I am aware that when I am not the one that is present to kiss a boo-boo, someone else's lips will offer that magic.

I know that they will grow up. They will need tools and support from a plethora of humanity. It means that I want to surround them with wonderful people. I know they may not come to me with every problem that they need to talk about, so I want to provide them with other sets of nonjudgmental listening ears.

I have carefully looked for god-parent type people. I have a fabulous bunch of relatives! I want to help them navigate the worlds of friendships, relationship boundaries, respect, and self-love.

I will never be able to be their everything. I'm not supposed to be.

Epiphany about Peanut Butter and Jelly!

I figured out why peanut butter and jelly feels so primal, comforting, and satisfying! It comes from our days as hunters and gatherers, finding nuts and berries.

I make my own trail mix for the car, in case any family members get hungry. I read about how good walnuts and blueberries are for our brains. I found some dried blueberries at Costco and in bulk at Fred Meyers. I decided to throw some of those in the trail mix as well as some dried cranberries, and dried "Zante" currants. Of course you can add your favorite nuts and raisins and M & Ms, of course. When there isn't any chocolate, though, it makes me think of peanut butter and jelly!

It always does more than fills the tummy until we can get home; it also puts a smile on our faces.

Addressing an Owie

My oldest stepdaughter, Tracy, has an owie. What do I do?

The new mother in me rushed to the back door to see what happened as soon as I heard her howl. This is our sensitive one, so you never know how bad things are until you look. My husband checks it out. It doesn’t look bad at all, a tiny scratch on her ankle that isn’t bleeding. What do we say? I know exactly what both of us are thinking.

My husband’s feeling is that bandages often inhibit quick healing of such small “wounds” due to oxygen, etc. (He has a scientific answer to many of the girls’ questions.) He also wants the girls growing up believing they are healthy and strong, especially when they receive the opposite message from their hypochondriac mother every other week. He also loves it when the girls act unafraid to get dirty and explore. He wants them to be a bit tougher, learn how to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and go forward so to speak. However, I’ve told him that I wished my father was a bit more comforting than surgeon-like when I was little. So my husband has been better about offering cuddles in such cases.

Our philosophy is that we manifest physical symptoms as a result of our emotional state, because our bodies are trying to say something to us. My first thought is to address the feelings that she might have been experiencing right before the owie occurred.

My second thought is that their mother has accused us of abuse and neglect in the past. With her, they like to be sick, almost competing to be sicker than one another to receive more attention from Mom. Sometimes bandages just help them feel better. When someone else is hurt, Ashly, age 7, will explain how it might be better to let the air get to it. Yet when she is hurt, she goes and gets two bandages right away, even when she knows she doesn’t need them. It might be safer to just do what the doctors/nurses on those help lines always say, “Put some antibiotic ointment and a bandage on it.” This is what I propose.

As I start to go get them, Tracy says, “But I don’t want to do that. The bandage will make me think about being hurt. I just want to go play, cuz that will distract me from thinking about it.”

So for now that is what we let her do. My husband and I hug and smile with relief.

Tonight, we’ll check in with her about her owie while cuddling for a bed time story. Tomorrow, we’ll check on how she’s feeling about things like school, etc.

For now, we’ll watch them play some more with their new puppy. Sometimes the children show you how to parent.

Between the sheets with Blankets on Bunkbeds

Making bunk beds is hard!

Yes, physically it is grueling, but for a new stepmom, it is emotionally difficult, too.

I was thrilled when the girls were excited about the Raggedy Ann bedspreads and curtains that my sister and I used when we were little. My husband had put the bunk beds together. When the girls came to spend their first week with us in this house we’re still renovating, our evening with them was perfect. They cheerfully ate their vegetables and took a bath in our new bath tub. They smelled good and felt cozy in their pajamas. We cuddled and had a bed time story. They crawled into bed and refused to sleep between the sheets.

“Hmmm. But isn’t that the way everyone sleeps?” is what I thought but didn’t say. I just hugged and kissed them and tuck them in, baffled.

So, I am obviously used to doing something the way I grew up. I talked to my husband and found out that he is used to sleeping with just blankets. He’s been being a good sport sleeping with me with sheets. I talked to my mother-in-law and found out that although she tried to get the girls to do the same thing when they lived with her the year her son left his first wife, they were focused on having their special blankets next to their skin.

OK, that made sense. They miss their Mom, and the blankets remind them of her. But this sounded like it might go further than just growing out of needing a special blanket if they aren’t used to sleeping with clean sheets every other week. This sounded like a lifestyle change that I couldn’t impose without making it seem like the way their Mom does it is wrong. Just because it is different than any hotel or guest bed I’ve ever stayed in doesn’t mean that I’m right.

In the meantime, how do I wash these special blankets when we don’t have a washer and dryer yet? How long will these old blankets last if they need to be washed more often than before? Shall I explain the skin/bugs thing that was on Oprah, or will that scare them?

The first winter one daughter needed piles of blankets, including the down comforter off of my bed. Still not enough, she needed one electric blanket on top and another one under her.

The first spring the other daughter left her special blanket at her Mom’s house and noticed on her own that she had been sleeping fine without it.

The first summer, I had some of their special blankets clean and folded in the closet. The girls saw them and didn’t take them out to put on their beds. For Tracy’s 9^th birthday, we bought her a HUGE, fuzzy blanket with a horse on it. She still didn’t want it between the sheet and the bed spread. I wash it occasionally and make sure they go to bed clean.

The second autumn, we bought a similar blanket for Ashly’s 7^th birthday; hers has a unicorn. She noticed hers was a lot fuzzier than her sister’s. I suggested that sleeping with a sheet between her and the blanket would keep it from getting dirty and needing to be washed as often.

That night, both girls slept between the sheets. I didn’t realize this until I was putting something away in their room and Tracy said, “Look!” and pointed to the sheet.

"Wow!" I said and gave her another kiss on the cheek as she went back to reading her book. Dare I feel victorious about getting them one step closer to what I consider civilized? No.

This past Christmas, we got them each a duvet (with hypoallergenic stuffing rather than feathers in case of allergies). My precious mom sewed the Raggedy Ann bedspreads to the Raggedy Ann sheets and then sewed these duvet covers onto the duvets. The girls loved them!

Ashly promptly got under hers, so sheet material was under her and over her. "Now you can also put your big horse blanket on top of this if you need more," I said as I hugged and kissed her goodnight. Ashly shook her head and put it on the pillow with that satisfied and cozy expression on her face.

Tracy crawled in on top of the duvet and went to pull the horse blanket over her. So now we were back to square zero, no sheets touching her and two clean sheets two layers beneath her. "Tuck me in, please," Tracy requested.

"OK!" I said as kissed and hugged her and then tucked both sides and the end of her horse blanket around her like a cocoon. My husband smiled at me as we walked into the hallway.

The next week Tracy asked me for the sheet made out of t-shirt material. I brought it in, and she put it on top of her under her big blanket. The next night, I turned the duvet over, so she was at least on the side with the sheet. Now how long would this last?

Then, according to an email from the ex, the girls tell her that we only let them sleep with sheets and no blankets. I wanted to scream! Thank God for a counselor who helped debunk that one (pun intended).

When the duvet covers were washed, my mom stayed up until 3:00 A.M. two different nights to sew them back on. Now that we finally have a washer and dryer hooked up, I'll get to have that privilege! This time Tracy slept under the duvet with the t-shirt sheet.

I know! Put the t-shirt sheet on with the duvet and Raggedy Ann bedspread? Will we ever get this down?

My way may come, but it will come in their time. If not, oh well. Both ways are ok.

Perpective of a Mother who Gave a Child up for Adoption & a Step-Mom all Wrapped into One

Making parenting decisions gets tricky when you aren’t the primary parent.

I am a "tummy mommy" and a "heart mommy".

I am a step-mom to two wonderful little girls, Tracy and Ashly, ages 9 and 7. My husband has custody, but the girls go back and forth between our house and their mom’s apartment week on, week off.

What kind of voice am I to have? What am I allowed to do or say? The lawyer said my role, legally, is perceived as supporting the parents. He said that I really don’t count. To my husband, I am a vital sounding board and have a strong voice that he respects. With him, I’m able to admit my preferences and stand up for our future as a family, yet we know that he gets the final say and that I will support him no matter if I agree or not. To the girls, I am a mom. They constantly remind me that I count. Time after time, they open their huge hearts to let me in, love my family, and fill our moments with joy. To them, I am a "heart mommy". The ex-wife ignores me or vilifies me in turn, depending on her present state of mind and emotion.

Yet she is the mother of my children. The girls have a place in their hearts for her that shall always be sacred.

I understand this need, for I am also a birth mother or "tummy mommy" who gave up a child for adoption. For twenty-one years, I have prayed that the adoptive parents would respect the place I have in my daughter’s heart and life. During these years, I have had to practice sacrificing my own preferences and desires for the comfort of their family. For twenty years before I had step-children, I swore I’d be a good parent, if I ever got the chance again. I wanted to do it right the next time.

I was a teacher and am a member of a big family. For two decades, I observed parenting and made mental notes about what I would and wouldn’t do. I took classes about parenting and behavior management for my classroom. I read books and unpacked my emotional baggage, making sure my heart was healed and ready to open wide for some precious little soul someday.

So now I must do a double take before uttering any words to my children. I must take into account the feelings and desires of these beautiful young ladies, all of their parents, our families, friends and supporters. We all count. Even me.

Maybe this makes me a better parent? It certainly makes me a careful parent, a very careful mother.