I have to start this post by saying how wonderful I think Sandra Bullock is. She is a stepmom to three children (who have two separate moms). One of those moms is an ex-porn star who was recently jailed for tax evasion. Nice.
It was a nice "little thing" for me to see Sandra Bullock win her Oscar this week and to silently celebrate that we stepmoms have a role model and advocate in the celebrity world. Maybe she can help throw some chinks into the armor of the wicked stepmother myth. (Although a quick Google search that pulled up articles about "Stepkids think Bullock is a monster" proves the media-razzi sure aren't helping the fight.)
The life of a stepmom is rarely simple. It can be thankless and full of pressure. Pressure to do right by children in spite of their mother's best efforts to turn them against you (and often your husband); pressure to be sweet and perfect in order to dispel the wicked stepmother myth. You can give and give, only to receive scraps in return.
In my own life as a stepmom, those everyday "little things" often save me. They are what keep me going.
The stepmom little things that come to mind:
~ A handmade card I received from my stepdaughter that said, "I Love You"
~ My stepson saying at piano practice Monday night, "I'm glad A.J. is here"
~ Both kids yelling "A.J.!" when I come downstairs in the morning; they are actually glad to see me
~ Knowing in my heart that I am serving as a different kind of role model for them; teaching them self-sufficiency and responsibility
~ Knowing that I will always treat the kids with respect and authenticity and will never play with their emotions (as some others in their life do), and that they will appreciate that someday
~ Giving my stepson a time-out last night while C. was at the store -- and it worked, and he apologized for his behavior. It was a victory moment for me - turns out, I am an authoritative parent. (I took a quiz.)
~ Watching my stepdaughter ride her bike alone for the first time -- sharing a 'first' in her life.
~ Watching the kids thrive with the new goal-setting system C. and I implemented at our house.
~ Hearing my stepdaughter read her first book (with just a little help from me) last week. (The edge-of-your seat story of The Red Hen.)
~ Getting a good report from my stepson's new school that he is behaving well and doing well! (Curses to the old school for giving up on him or any child as a lost cause.)
There are a lot more, and I hope I will always stop to remember those moments and small victories.
There are a lot of challenging moments as a stepmom. I have already been through moments of great despair as a stepmom. It is way harder than anyone tells you it will be (and I think most biological parents would agree with that statement, as well). Yet, this past year has been the biggest year of growth in my life. Those two little ones are, in part, responsible for that -- and I thank them for that.
Showing posts with label stepkids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stepkids. Show all posts
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Special (needs) kid
I haven't posted on this topic before because it is a difficult subject for me to put into words. I doubt this post will be all that coherent, but I really feel the need to write about it.
Different. I have a stepson who is different.
As a young child (well before I knew him), he was verbally delayed and had some motor issues. Now, as a nine-year-old, he is behind at school -- mostly because he is a different kind of learner, but also because his behavior and lack of typical social skills gets in the way of his success. I could write pages and pages about the tests and so-called "diagnoses" (from autism to anxiety -- but none of them really fit) the professionals have subjected him to. I won't, because I truly believe all the tests in the world won't help him.
What will help him is a teacher who cares, as well as parents (including me) who reinforce the academic and behavioral work the school is doing.
He starts at a new school today, and there is some real hope. I have not yet met the teacher, but I plan to. A teacher friend of mine told me, "A.J., you are a parent. The school and teacher don't care if you are a bioparent or a stepparent. You might not even want the title, but you are a parent." She's right - I am one of four responsible adults in my stepson's life and I can have a genuine impact on his life. I want the school and teacher to know who I am and to know that I care. (Whoa! Tears in my eyes as I type that.)
C., my husband, has met the regular classroom teacher, special ed director, principal and others at the school who seem to be on board with treating each child as an individual. What works for one won't necessarily work for another. They don't believe in forcing a square peg into a round hole. With the right support and encouragement, I believe my stepson can succeed. He is bright. He is special. He shouldn't be written off just because he is different.
* * *
This weekend, C. and I watched the HBO movie "Temple Grandin." If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.
Dr. Temple Grandin was diagnosed with autism in 1950. She didn't speak until she was four years old. "Professionals" told her mother she never would speak and that she should live in an institution.
Her mother refused to give up on her. She DID speak. She went to school. She learned. She loved science.
In high school, a science teacher became her mentor and she began to thrive. Someone believed in her and showed her that she could do it. She went on to college, earned a master's and eventually her Ph.D. in animal science. She now teaches at Colorado State University and lectures on autism.
She says she thinks in pictures -- and her autism is one of the reasons she is able to relate to and work with animals.
C. and I had tears streaming down our faces because it hit so close to home -- but also because it showed us so much hope.
The professionals can tell you, until they are blue in the face, to prepare for boarding school and group homes for a child, because he's different and won't be able to take care of himself later in life. They convince you - yes, even in this highly advanced age - that there is nothing to be done. Why? Because THEY don't know what to do.
Since I met my stepson, I have always believed that he would grow up, learn and succeed. I believe he can be self-sufficient. I believe he can have a career and be happy. I refuse to believe that we all should give up on him having dreams because he doesn't fit the norm.
I will post more on this later, I am sure. For now, I just want to put out into the universe my best wishes for my stepson, Jonah*. Today is a new beginning for him, and it is a day filled with much hope. Your daddy and I believe in you, kid.
Different. I have a stepson who is different.
As a young child (well before I knew him), he was verbally delayed and had some motor issues. Now, as a nine-year-old, he is behind at school -- mostly because he is a different kind of learner, but also because his behavior and lack of typical social skills gets in the way of his success. I could write pages and pages about the tests and so-called "diagnoses" (from autism to anxiety -- but none of them really fit) the professionals have subjected him to. I won't, because I truly believe all the tests in the world won't help him.
What will help him is a teacher who cares, as well as parents (including me) who reinforce the academic and behavioral work the school is doing.
He starts at a new school today, and there is some real hope. I have not yet met the teacher, but I plan to. A teacher friend of mine told me, "A.J., you are a parent. The school and teacher don't care if you are a bioparent or a stepparent. You might not even want the title, but you are a parent." She's right - I am one of four responsible adults in my stepson's life and I can have a genuine impact on his life. I want the school and teacher to know who I am and to know that I care. (Whoa! Tears in my eyes as I type that.)
C., my husband, has met the regular classroom teacher, special ed director, principal and others at the school who seem to be on board with treating each child as an individual. What works for one won't necessarily work for another. They don't believe in forcing a square peg into a round hole. With the right support and encouragement, I believe my stepson can succeed. He is bright. He is special. He shouldn't be written off just because he is different.
* * *
This weekend, C. and I watched the HBO movie "Temple Grandin." If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.
Dr. Temple Grandin was diagnosed with autism in 1950. She didn't speak until she was four years old. "Professionals" told her mother she never would speak and that she should live in an institution.
Her mother refused to give up on her. She DID speak. She went to school. She learned. She loved science.
She says she thinks in pictures -- and her autism is one of the reasons she is able to relate to and work with animals.
C. and I had tears streaming down our faces because it hit so close to home -- but also because it showed us so much hope.
The professionals can tell you, until they are blue in the face, to prepare for boarding school and group homes for a child, because he's different and won't be able to take care of himself later in life. They convince you - yes, even in this highly advanced age - that there is nothing to be done. Why? Because THEY don't know what to do.
Since I met my stepson, I have always believed that he would grow up, learn and succeed. I believe he can be self-sufficient. I believe he can have a career and be happy. I refuse to believe that we all should give up on him having dreams because he doesn't fit the norm.
I will post more on this later, I am sure. For now, I just want to put out into the universe my best wishes for my stepson, Jonah*. Today is a new beginning for him, and it is a day filled with much hope. Your daddy and I believe in you, kid.
* Names have been changed.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Girl power
One of my biggest frustrations with my stepdaughter, Annie*, is her tendency to give up on herself and say "I can't do it!"
She is a smart and capable 5-year-old girl. Most of the time, she CAN do it, but doesn't give herself enough time or have enough confidence to try.
This weekend, she proved me right. She rode a bike without training wheels, solo, for the first time. C. and I gave Jonah* a new bike for his birthday, so Annie was trying out his old one. Turns out, the bigger sized bike was all she needed. C. helped her at first, but then let go and she took off -- balanced perfectly!
I was so excited for her. I remember the first time I rode my bike alone -- when dad let go (ha! yes, figurative and literal in a lot of ways). I was so proud.
Watching her say, "Yes, I can" rather than "No, I can't" was huge. I know she was really proud of herself.
Also, it's a big first that I got to share with her as her stepmom. It didn't happen on mom's time -- it happened on C's and my time with the kids. It was truly a good family moment, with C., Jonah and me all cheering her on.
She is a smart and capable 5-year-old girl. Most of the time, she CAN do it, but doesn't give herself enough time or have enough confidence to try.
This weekend, she proved me right. She rode a bike without training wheels, solo, for the first time. C. and I gave Jonah* a new bike for his birthday, so Annie was trying out his old one. Turns out, the bigger sized bike was all she needed. C. helped her at first, but then let go and she took off -- balanced perfectly!
I was so excited for her. I remember the first time I rode my bike alone -- when dad let go (ha! yes, figurative and literal in a lot of ways). I was so proud.
Watching her say, "Yes, I can" rather than "No, I can't" was huge. I know she was really proud of herself.
Also, it's a big first that I got to share with her as her stepmom. It didn't happen on mom's time -- it happened on C's and my time with the kids. It was truly a good family moment, with C., Jonah and me all cheering her on.
*names have been changed.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Creativity (part 2)
Society quashes creativity early.
My drawing instructor made a comment that children don't have to use their imaginations anymore -- everything is already done for them in video games and movies. That made me sad -- because we always think of childhood as this immensely creative and imaginative time. It was for me -- I was always putting on "plays" in the backyard, dressing up like a pioneer girl, writing poetry and making up stories for my dolls.
I really hope children haven't lost that ability entirely.
When he made that comment, it reminded me of sitting at the table with my stepkids a couple of weeks ago. C. had bought them these amazing "doodle books." They are not your average coloring books. Each page has a small drawing or two in the corner and a question that "starts" a story: What is the dog laughing at? Why is the dinosaur scared? Most of each page is a big, empty space where the kid can draw something from his or her own imagination.
Annie*, who is five, turned to a page that featured a stage outline. It was her job to create her own characters and play on the stage. She promptly drew a boy and a girl and said, "This is the prince and princess."
SIGH.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I hate the princess myth. (I also hate pink and buying shoes -- I missed a female gene somewhere.)
I hate the myth because: a) How many princesses have you ever met in real life? b) Gee, great aspiration; grow up to be pretty and sweet and wait for a man to rescue you.
(Did I mention that Annie's mom sent her to Princess Camp last summer? Gah!)
It occurs to me now, though, that I hate it for an even bigger reason. These pervasive stories that we tell our children (princesses for girls and superheroes for boys) are sending a message that these characters are the prototypes on which to base your dreams. The stories are all the same: Pretty girl gets the guy; Strong good guy beats the bad guys. There's little deviation from the original and our children start to regurgitate these stories, rather than creating their own.
C., bless him, drew a cactus on Annie's stage and said, "You know, you don't just have to repeat a story you saw in a movie. You can make your own story; maybe it's a prince, a princess and a cactus."
I said, "Ooh, and if there's a cactus, maybe they are not even a prince and princess. Maybe they are a cowboy and cowgirl."
She's a smart girl -- you could see her wheels turning after that. I hope that we can help teach both kids that they are allowed to have their own dreams, tell their own stories, create what they want to create because it comes from inside them and expresses who they are.
Also, I hope to convey that being an average human being is much cooler than being some storybook princess or comic book hero. Average, everyday people are doing amazing things. Life is cool. Let's teach children to see that and enjoy that early.
My drawing instructor made a comment that children don't have to use their imaginations anymore -- everything is already done for them in video games and movies. That made me sad -- because we always think of childhood as this immensely creative and imaginative time. It was for me -- I was always putting on "plays" in the backyard, dressing up like a pioneer girl, writing poetry and making up stories for my dolls.
I really hope children haven't lost that ability entirely.
When he made that comment, it reminded me of sitting at the table with my stepkids a couple of weeks ago. C. had bought them these amazing "doodle books." They are not your average coloring books. Each page has a small drawing or two in the corner and a question that "starts" a story: What is the dog laughing at? Why is the dinosaur scared? Most of each page is a big, empty space where the kid can draw something from his or her own imagination.
Annie*, who is five, turned to a page that featured a stage outline. It was her job to create her own characters and play on the stage. She promptly drew a boy and a girl and said, "This is the prince and princess."
SIGH.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I hate the princess myth. (I also hate pink and buying shoes -- I missed a female gene somewhere.)
I hate the myth because: a) How many princesses have you ever met in real life? b) Gee, great aspiration; grow up to be pretty and sweet and wait for a man to rescue you.
(Did I mention that Annie's mom sent her to Princess Camp last summer? Gah!)
C., bless him, drew a cactus on Annie's stage and said, "You know, you don't just have to repeat a story you saw in a movie. You can make your own story; maybe it's a prince, a princess and a cactus."
I said, "Ooh, and if there's a cactus, maybe they are not even a prince and princess. Maybe they are a cowboy and cowgirl."
She's a smart girl -- you could see her wheels turning after that. I hope that we can help teach both kids that they are allowed to have their own dreams, tell their own stories, create what they want to create because it comes from inside them and expresses who they are.
Also, I hope to convey that being an average human being is much cooler than being some storybook princess or comic book hero. Average, everyday people are doing amazing things. Life is cool. Let's teach children to see that and enjoy that early.
* Names have been changed.
Monday, October 19, 2009
What if we get bored?
As a new stepmom, I am entering more fully the world of children's activities, cartoons, books and games. Up until now, I have watched from the sidelines as my sisters and friends chauffered their children to various activities, events and appointments -- all set to a soundtrack of Bob the Builder and Disney theme songs.
Sometimes, though, parents need activities that are just for them -- with no trace of princesses (don't even get me started), Spiderman or talking vegetables.
Friday night, my parents invited my sisters and me to a free Dixieland jazz show with the Queen City Jazz Band. When we were growing up, my folks took us to see this band at a variety of free concerts in the park, so there was some nostalgia attached to the event. I also have a personal love of all things jazz in nearly all its iterations.
I told C. I planned to go, and he and the kids were welcome to come, if they'd like. They did join us -- as did three out of four of my nephews.
On the drive down to the concert, Annie* (my stepdaughter) asked, "What if me and brother get bored?"
Hmm, what if the kids did get bored? Just what tragedy would ensue? Boredom -- is it the horror of all horrors to be avoided at any cost by parents everywhere?
The truth is, "boredom" allows a person's mind a free moment for creativity. I remember creating elaborate stories for myself as a child during many "boring" car trips (we didn't have car DVDs back then!), "boring" classical concerts and "boring" dinners at real restaurants (no ball pits, clown characters or free toys in the Merry Meal) with my parents.
Children do not need to be catered to and entertained every second of the day. Sadly, many parents give in (or give up?) and set up the portable DVD player during breakfast out at a cafe (what happened to food being the "event"?), or pop in a video game in the car on long road trips (doesn't anyone play the alphabet game anymore, or - gasp - look at the view?).
Parents have a bigger job than serving as personal social and event organizers for their children. They must help children learn about the world, learn how to think critically for themselves, discover how to create their own stories and grow into adults who enjoy life and all that it has to offer.
Life is about more than plugging in a machine for ready-made entertainment. Sometimes, a child is better served with little more than a pen and paper -- and a bored moment.
Friday night, my parents, sisters, C., five children and I lined up in two rows to listen to some good live music. Those five children listened, watched, pretended to drum along and practiced "conducting" the band. They also took advantage of boredom to doodle and write, and show their parents the results of their creativity.
They did beautifully. They had FUN (my 9-year-old nephew reported that the evening was "awesome!"). Their brains absorbed a little healthy music (which studies have shown aids brain development).
Oh, and their parents (and stepparents, in my case) were able to enjoy a little grown-up time. The singer had us all on our feet by the end, belting out "When the Saints Go Marching In." (Which elicited a few eye rolls from the younger set at how embarrassing their parents were acting - ha! I, for one, am not the least bit worried about being embarrassing.)
As I have said before, music feeds my soul. I needed that night out, and I am happy I was able to share it with my husband and stepkids.
Spongebob, Speed Racer, Cinderella and Dora - step aside. Tonight, we prefer to be "bored."
*Names changed
Sometimes, though, parents need activities that are just for them -- with no trace of princesses (don't even get me started), Spiderman or talking vegetables.
Friday night, my parents invited my sisters and me to a free Dixieland jazz show with the Queen City Jazz Band. When we were growing up, my folks took us to see this band at a variety of free concerts in the park, so there was some nostalgia attached to the event. I also have a personal love of all things jazz in nearly all its iterations.
I told C. I planned to go, and he and the kids were welcome to come, if they'd like. They did join us -- as did three out of four of my nephews.
On the drive down to the concert, Annie* (my stepdaughter) asked, "What if me and brother get bored?"
Hmm, what if the kids did get bored? Just what tragedy would ensue? Boredom -- is it the horror of all horrors to be avoided at any cost by parents everywhere?
The truth is, "boredom" allows a person's mind a free moment for creativity. I remember creating elaborate stories for myself as a child during many "boring" car trips (we didn't have car DVDs back then!), "boring" classical concerts and "boring" dinners at real restaurants (no ball pits, clown characters or free toys in the Merry Meal) with my parents.
Children do not need to be catered to and entertained every second of the day. Sadly, many parents give in (or give up?) and set up the portable DVD player during breakfast out at a cafe (what happened to food being the "event"?), or pop in a video game in the car on long road trips (doesn't anyone play the alphabet game anymore, or - gasp - look at the view?).
Parents have a bigger job than serving as personal social and event organizers for their children. They must help children learn about the world, learn how to think critically for themselves, discover how to create their own stories and grow into adults who enjoy life and all that it has to offer.
Life is about more than plugging in a machine for ready-made entertainment. Sometimes, a child is better served with little more than a pen and paper -- and a bored moment.
Friday night, my parents, sisters, C., five children and I lined up in two rows to listen to some good live music. Those five children listened, watched, pretended to drum along and practiced "conducting" the band. They also took advantage of boredom to doodle and write, and show their parents the results of their creativity.
They did beautifully. They had FUN (my 9-year-old nephew reported that the evening was "awesome!"). Their brains absorbed a little healthy music (which studies have shown aids brain development).
Oh, and their parents (and stepparents, in my case) were able to enjoy a little grown-up time. The singer had us all on our feet by the end, belting out "When the Saints Go Marching In." (Which elicited a few eye rolls from the younger set at how embarrassing their parents were acting - ha! I, for one, am not the least bit worried about being embarrassing.)
As I have said before, music feeds my soul. I needed that night out, and I am happy I was able to share it with my husband and stepkids.
Spongebob, Speed Racer, Cinderella and Dora - step aside. Tonight, we prefer to be "bored."
*Names changed
Monday, September 21, 2009
Yum, yum, yum
Part of my newlywed adventure has been sharing the company of two wonderful children -- my stepkids -- whom I'll call Jonah* (8) and Annie* (5).
I am not gonna lie. It has been an adjustment for sure. Not because they are bad kids -- they're great, actually -- but because I am new to sharing my house with anyone, let alone anyone smaller than four feet. (How, exactly, is it possible for so much volume and constant energy to emit from those two little bodies?)
Ok, so my dog is shorter than four feet, but she has been the easiest roommate on the planet. She and I still find sanity and comfort in each other amid the sometimes chaotic happenings of the new house.
Anyway, we are about two months in to our new marriage and new household, and I am starting to find my stride. The kids are with us every other weekend for three nights. It feels good to have a small victory now and then -- a moment that makes my heart swell with pride when I feel like I am truly part of the family now.
One of those occurred last night. I have been asking C. to let me do more of the cooking, because I have been needing to cook as an expression of myself in my new home (call it nesting).
I cooked for the four of us last night. It was just a simple casserole recipe with ground meat, canned tomatoes, corn, and onions topped with cornbread batter on top -- all baked in the oven. I was nervous that the kids wouldn't like it, but they gobbled it down. Annie even sat there saying, "yum, yum, yum, yum..." every few seconds. Jonah actually ATE the tomatoes. He never eats tomatoes.
A small victory for sure, but it is one of those hundreds of little things.
Last night's successful dinner -- combined with eliciting laughter from both kids AND C. as I read them a Buzz Lightyear story before bed -- helped create that warm glow I always imagined I would feel at the heart of family life. Something I dreamed of often as a single girl who lived alone.
With stepkids, a new marriage and much transition in life right now, it is so nice to stop and remember those glowing moments. I'd like to sit and savor this one for awhile.
*Names changed
I am not gonna lie. It has been an adjustment for sure. Not because they are bad kids -- they're great, actually -- but because I am new to sharing my house with anyone, let alone anyone smaller than four feet. (How, exactly, is it possible for so much volume and constant energy to emit from those two little bodies?)
Ok, so my dog is shorter than four feet, but she has been the easiest roommate on the planet. She and I still find sanity and comfort in each other amid the sometimes chaotic happenings of the new house.
Anyway, we are about two months in to our new marriage and new household, and I am starting to find my stride. The kids are with us every other weekend for three nights. It feels good to have a small victory now and then -- a moment that makes my heart swell with pride when I feel like I am truly part of the family now.
One of those occurred last night. I have been asking C. to let me do more of the cooking, because I have been needing to cook as an expression of myself in my new home (call it nesting).
I cooked for the four of us last night. It was just a simple casserole recipe with ground meat, canned tomatoes, corn, and onions topped with cornbread batter on top -- all baked in the oven. I was nervous that the kids wouldn't like it, but they gobbled it down. Annie even sat there saying, "yum, yum, yum, yum..." every few seconds. Jonah actually ATE the tomatoes. He never eats tomatoes.
A small victory for sure, but it is one of those hundreds of little things.
Last night's successful dinner -- combined with eliciting laughter from both kids AND C. as I read them a Buzz Lightyear story before bed -- helped create that warm glow I always imagined I would feel at the heart of family life. Something I dreamed of often as a single girl who lived alone.
With stepkids, a new marriage and much transition in life right now, it is so nice to stop and remember those glowing moments. I'd like to sit and savor this one for awhile.
*Names changed
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