Tag Archives: family

The Curveball that is Life…

Life happens and plans change. I wanted to keep on a writing schedule and get this damn year-long project out of its infancy phase. But as I keep trying to teach my wee one, life is not about me or you but about us as a whole.

Life happens; bills have to get paid, people get sick, visits and birthdays happen even if it’s not the best time for YOU.

Despite my best efforts, I have not mastered running on less than 7 hours of sleep. Yes you read that right, I need sleep. I am a human who needs 7 hours a night. Yes, we all know people who do not “need” that much sleep despite what science tells us, and we will watch those people’s bodies break down earlier than ours, mmmkkkk.

Oh, and potty training. What a shit show that is. NO PUN INTENDED! It is a literal shit show. But we are on the downward slope now. She is fascinated by counting her poo-poo turds. You’re welcome.

I gave up nagging her about her nose picking addiction. I figure the mean girls at school will fight that battle for me. I just don’t have any more energy fighting the booger battle. I threw in the towel when I had to tell her that I would not join her in eating her boogers, or eating mine, because we are not meant to eat them (with a straight face).

Oh and I have the child that uses “fuck” appropriately. But really, everyone saw that coming. On the plane ride to California she told that she would not be sitting in her fucking seat. And if she cannot see her cookies when she opens the pantry, the f bombs fly. Where are my fuuuucccckkkinnnng cookies? I am working on it, please do not worry. I say fiddlesticks now.

The financial strain of buying a new house and immediately furnishing that house has also taken its toll. I totally understand how money is the number one reason for divorce. We are slowly and steadily getting out of the mess we happily put ourselves in.

Alas, here we are. Christmas right around the corner. I will be home! We are very excited to be celebrating our holiday season at home in this house that we love. Just the three of us. Just perfect.

Don’t let this photo fool you; there will be minimal if any baking going on.

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Perfect Little Family of Three

So anyway, expect new post.

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Stay in your lane, girl!

I cannot be the only early thirty-something (33 to be exact) who seems to be having trouble giving up late nights for early mornings. Giving up the cock-tail hour and dinner duo just doesn’t seem to be on my radar. Right now my life revolves around the high-energy two-year I have who does not sit still like society would like her to. She is the loud girl staring you down from two booths over; the one who zero awareness of your boundary issue.

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And I am her proud, tired mother. I still desire to hang out with my childless friends who still tell me stories about waking up somewhere weird or finding someone hanging out with a litter box while passed on out the shitter. Then there is me, I’m like, “oh cool, what kind of litter box is that? I am getting a kitten to add the family!” Fail.

I am socially awkward yes, but I love to entertain. I love to cook and decorate and drink with friends. Only now, I do all this after chasing/playing/cleaning up after my child all day. I usually attempt to ‘hang out’ (I use that term loosely) on Wednesday or Thursday which are may days off from working either in the home or out at the restaurant. These days are also days that I have to squeeze in activities for Charlotte, appointments, errands, etc. So they are not usually relaxing in nature.

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I used to enjoy running errands by myself. Listen to music, dance and sing in the car, get some coffee and knock it out. Man, that ship has sailed. Errands can only be described as awful when you do it with a toddler. At least with the combination of my low patience level, her inability to be calm when she needs to be, her need to explore everything and her desire to walk as SLOW as possible. She has one speed at home… zoom is her speed at home. My point is that I am often exhausted by the time the day rolls around to being time to cook and get ready for guest, then entertain.

Plus if it someone new my body automatically enters fight or flight mode from the mere stress of it all.

So guess what happens. I have my two to three glasses of wine and pass the fuck out with Charlotte. Every. Damn. Time. When I say I will be right back, you might as well say good night and plan on seeing tomorrow. For real.

Did I mention Charlotte is phasing out of naps too? I am in the throws of the potty training, meltdowns, picky-eating, non-stop running/climbing/falling, nose picking stage of parenting and I guess I am having trouble transitioning from the semi-cool mom to the busy and exhausted mom.

I need to cut the shit and stay the fuck in my lane. I need to realize that you can’t mold yourself around your friends like you might have in your youth; that shit just doesn’t work. I can now check-off going to sleep before 8 pm while your guest are downstairs waiting on you. I can also say that I have entered the realm of my life where I can no longer blend in with twenty year olds. I just feel uncomfortable and maternal now. The phase is complete. Charlotte has even started saying, “oh mom, you’re so silly!” She is two people. I embarrass her at two.

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So I guess even though I have like 10 types of leftovers in my fridge on the daily and the biggest bottle of Pinot Grigio that Barefoot sells, I can’t have you over. Unless you understand and accept that I am now the host that forgets to offer you water and will most likely talk too much about Charlotte and Chris. But I will keep your glass of wine full and probably be pretty entertaining until I pass out.

I realize that my pool of potential friends is already small and it is shrinking every year I age. I am an anxiety-riddled, socially awkward (at times), overly opinionated and brutally honest momma bear. I am a MS graduate that chooses to wait tables, labels herself as non-religious (for safety reasons), and I am an outspoken supporter of MMJ. Oh, and I reside in the DEEP SOUTH by choice. I am seriously a duck out of water as far fitting in socially around here, but that’s ok. We like the Spanish Moss and we have a good 8-hours before any family can ‘stop by’.

I am getting back in my lane. If I don’t I might start falling asleep the day before company arrives!

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I throw in the towel; I give up trying to make everyone happy.

The words I don’t care what you think have passed these lips a time or two. Both in a drunken rant and in a sober matter-of-fact way, but I never meant in. Insecure people are the first to say, “I don’t care what you think or what you say,” but that is because we care too much.

This year I decided to put in the effort to really mean it. I suppose I have been known to make a few decisions not really caring what people had to say, but I always had the backing of someone I view as important in my life. Like my parents or my honorary mom/aunt. This is the year I am taking to work on myself, so I owe it to myself and my husband and daughter to make that the new standard around here.

Having a mom and wife who is prone to stress about the crumbs on the floor, both at home and work, is tough enough. Stress takes years off your life, and that shit is not happening! So I officially denounce trying to make everyone happy.

Especially unhappy people. It is simply impossible; they got too much shit going on in their own life that all they know how to do is project. Project on you, on their significant others, parents, coworkers… hell, the cashier at the grocery store. You know these people. They are the ones SNL makes skits about. These are the people who only ask you how you are so that when you do the societal norm of asking them in return, they get to tell something awful. Something that is a total downer and unnecessary for you to even know. Like about their baby daddy not paying child support or about being evicted or losing a family member ten years ago today. Socially awkward asshats that you eventually avoid at all costs or never fall into the trap of asking how their day is going. *If you have never ran across any people like this, well, I guess you live somewhere amazing and alone, take lots of pills or you are that person.

I have learned through trial and error that no amount of compliments make this type of person happy, no amount of gifts, no amount of quality time… not even a box full of puppies or kittens. They have some deeper issues that need addressing, and chances are it is not high on their list of priorities. Probably because they remain oblivious and believe their self-centered way of thinking is normal.

I realize unhappiness narrows our thinking. Being unhappy creates a whole ‘what about me’ vibe and that shit is just plain annoying. I have lived it. When I am going through a depressive episode I feel pretty darn unhappy and it is all-consuming. I can only focus on how I am feeling and how everything pertains to me. Nothing really makes me happy, comfortable maybe, but not happy.

With all the things I am juggling right now and all the goals Chris and I have, I just can’t fit it on my plate anymore. I can’t waste anymore energy or take any more time away from all things I find important to try to make irrelevant people happy. I am not even going to go through the effort of making small talk with people who insist on sucking the positive energy and fun out of any and everything that they can. Even if they don’t realize it.

I have come to grips that we all can’t just get along sometimes. Sometimes, it is just not going to work out that way. I am not in charge of anyone’s happiness except my own and the people I grow. In an effort to stay on this path I have continued to have cell phone free time, just now I do it so much I have begun leaving it home when I leave. It gives me the chance to focus on the important things going on in that moment and not social media and neurotic family members. Sometimes that works, other times the focus shifts to my husband, but then it is his issue and I don’t have to even pay attention to it. That is what you call a win-win approach.

Join me in not trying to make everyone else happy, and make yourself happy! I have even started shutting down those Debbie Downers before they try to suck me into their pity part. They project their misery, and I deflect with positivity. When that fails I just tell them they are really bringing down my positive vibe, and when that fails I just tell them they are straight up depressing and to keep it to themselves. That works because they think you are a bitch and move on to gossiping about you and projecting all that toxic shit on other people. Boom! Problem solved. Another win-win for me.

You are in charge of your own happiness. It is not rocket science. It has been appearing on apparel and swag for decades. Haven’t you eaten a stupid fortune cookie? You can choose to be happy. You can choose who you allow in your life. You can choose to put you and yours first. If you won’t give yourself permission to do it, suburban mishap does!

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Fuck You, I Don’t Need Defending…

*If the ‘F’ word makes you uncomfortable and you are of the belief (still) that ladies do not use profanity, this is not for you. Please check-out one of my more ‘calm’ post. This announcement is to avoid any and all comments addressing the vocabulary I use.

Now, back to business…

This is gonna be a long one so get comfortable; make a drink, pour some vino, pack a bowl or grab some fuckin’ ice cream if that’s your thing. Just do whatever it is you do during your parents-only time. It’s story time and self-love time with suburban mishap!

Black and White

So where does this title come from? Well, the short answer is it comes from my soul and it comes from a place of self-realization. And it comes from a very uncomfortable situation, and the therapy that followed that situation.

But the long version begins like this…

The sentiment “fuck you, I don’t need defending” entered my brain and left through my mouth during a very private and vulnerable conversation with my husband amidst a very real possibility of separation.

I am a deeply private and I always have been. I am pretty sure this is the product of both nature and nurture. My family being of mostly German and English heritage, I am predisposed to being a bitch. Then top that with all my childhood drama and shitty examples of ‘loving marriages’ I have, it is no wonder I have arrived here. Here being on the door step of separation with refusal to give up on my dream of being happy in the one life I was gifted.

Since I left the nest many, many years ago I decided that I would not repeat history. Even in my adolescence I knew I wanted better for myself; in every aspect of my life. My young mind recognized that as far as ‘normal’ was concerned, my life was not it. It was not normal in any capacity.

Recently I have discovered that for some reason longevity translates to success in some people’s minds. For example, my mother was married for I believe 27 years to the same man. So some might say, well hell, she must know the secret to a long and happy marriage… I assure you that particular long marriage was a shit-show. Frankly I do not have one example of a marriage that I want mine to be like. That may offend some people, but it is what it is.

In my way of thinking, it is impossible to apply advice when there is no similarities in the desired goal. I don’t just want to be married for many years, I want to be happy, to be loved and to be respected and valued. I would like to get out of this shell I am living in and be affectionate and playful with my husband. I want to be spoiled and cherished, AND I want to do the same for him. More than anything, we both want to display a happy and healthy marriage for our daughter.

During this conversation the phrase “but I defended you” was communicated to me a lot. So for me, the deeper question was this, why do you feel the need to defend me? Deer in the headlight response. You know why? Because I simply do not need defending. And in this particular instance I was reminded again of my favorite talk show host Dr. Phil   Oprah. He She says “no matter how flat you make a pancake, it will always have two sides.” When one person is telling YOUR story things can easily become distorted, goals become forgotten and before you know it you can find yourself playing for the wrong team.

I know this about myself, I am determined to stay on my path and be happy. Life is too fucking short and you know, sometimes it is healthy to remind yourself (especially with this nagging depression and constant anxiety) that you are enough. I live my life with honesty, acceptance, love, and kindness. I am a good mom and I can say that without even blinking. I try very hard to show my daughter that we treat other human beings how we would like to be treated. I take a front-seat approach to being a mother and my heart strings are attached so firmly to my daughter that she is in the forefront of all my decision making.

Before this turns into a Mother Teresa type read, I know for certainty that I am not perfect. I have a heaping stack of areas that need improvement and need my attention. But I know this, acknowledging them is half the battle and seeing progress makes any journey better. Dr. Phil Oprah has mentioned a time or two that you can’t fix what you don’t acknowledge and I find this to be profoundly raw and simple to live by. Anyone who knows me now that knew me 5 years ago will tell you I am a different person, and not just because I now have my own personal side-kick.

I mention this because I am a person who requires proof and hearing from those who know me best allows me to say with certainty that I put self-work very high on my list of priorities. So as flawed as I am, I can say with confidence that I am moving in the right direction and I am staying on the path I want. Isn’t that all we can do?

If I was giving you my elevator speech, because say, you wanted to get to know me a little better…  I am a stay-at-home mom with two jobs that earn a steady income. I wait tables Friday-Sunday and babysit a few days during the week. I also make my husband help me around the house and sometimes I lose my patience with the members in my family. I know, what a dick.

It boils down to this simple notion, my dear readers. Fuck you, we do not need defending.

The intention of this post is NOT to make anyone feel anything other than empowered. It is not intended to be braggy or boastful in nature. I just know that sometimes it is necessary to remind ourselves of all the shit we are doing right in life and let all that chatter fade into the background where it belongs. If the chatter is your own annoying monsters like I live with, write it down and read that shit to yourself when you need a little reminder.

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How Organization and Planning are Saving my Sanity

I think by now, the general population that follows Huffington Post  knows that a stay-at-home mom or dad does more during the day than changing diapers and keeping the children alive. Or hell, maybe that is his or her only goal and she achieves day in and day out. I don’t judge.

However, we can’t deny the numerous articles floating around the internet about what a day-in-the-life of a stay-at-home mom looks like that carries the undertone of a shaking finger in your face and eyes as big as a strung-out crack head.

And I get it. I do, I truly do get it. When you are stuck in the throws of endless days that feel like they will never end. Days that are filled with you using words like “blowout” and “lactate.” You start to grow horns and learn how to cuss in a sing-song voice with tears in your eyes.

The slope gets too damn slippery sometimes and you slip right into not giving a fuck. From there you find you self settling into cynical and alone. Hello my Mirandas!

Black and White

So you start reading shit titled, “What I Would Pay My Wife if I Could” and nodding along. You start feeling this stay-at-home mom pride, because you are a part of this group, you know. Then it turns to entitlement and then it ends with truth.

The truth of course being that you are you are alone most of time, changing shitty diapers and praying to someone’s God to please STOP the lactating!

Oh looky there, I went on a rant! Ha! Let me get myself back on track…

Basically, I used to put so much effort and energy into a clean house and appearing like everything was PERFECT.

Then I gave up caring and everything fell apart… as I suspected it would.

So after we settled into Castle Garvey, I found my groove in life again. I had some damn good ah-ha moments that would make even Oprah proud! I found the middle ground that is now keeping this household running so smooth I get to take more than one bath a week. I live for a good bath you guys.

Here is how organizing my life into a simple routine is working for me and keeping me sane.

Note: I don’t have a set schedule for the cleaning. That part has to be flexible because having a two-year old means no agenda on my part (so-to-speak). I stay home to be present with her so I put my chores on the back burner as far as time on the clock. I do them as I can, sometimes she lets me knock it all out, other times I do a little here and there. 

Monday:

Babysit from mid-morning to mid-evening.

  • Babysit from mid-morning to mid-evening.
  • I vacuum every Monday and dust every other Monday.
  • Dinner and I usually do bath time with her.

Tuesday:

  • Same babysitting schedule. I have started strongly ” “suggesting” story time and activity times.
  • I vacuum upstairs every week and dust every other week.
  • Dinner and daddy does bath time. Unless of course it is mommy’s turn again because Charlotte is the ultimate decision maker. Of course.

Wednesday:

  • I schedule most play dates, appointments for whoever needs them and run errands.
  • Laundry every week and bathrooms every other week (spot clean) and a deep clean once a month. We have 3 full baths (one with a double sink vanity) and a half bath downstairs. I am not boasting or bragging; I am pointing out the time it would take me to deep clean those every week. Hell no, good sir. Pass. I put Chris in charge of his own shitter so frankly I don’t know how often that one gets cleaned, other than when we have guest. Moving right along…
  • Dinner and bath time.

Thursday:

  • The Little Gym at 10:30. Run errands if there are any to run.
  • Mom gets to write so if there are not leftovers to eat (which 9 out of 10 times there is) we eat out. I write and work until I summoned by either my husband or child.

Friday:

  • This is a fairly new schedule so on Friday I am often doing something I missed or couldn’t get to earlier in the week.
  • Work 5 pm at restaurant job until I am done. This is the same for Saturday and Sunday.

Having a toddler pretty much requires you to have a ‘no agenda’ type attitude, which makes it hard to have a ‘stay on top of the house work, keep money coming in, have lots of sex with husband and cook delicious meals everyday’ type of attitude as well.

Something snaps eventually, and I am not trying to a 20/20 episode. During my recent self-discovery and coming out to the world that I am not the real deal Martha Stewart type I may or may not have mentioned that I also rely on a village (husband, friends, coworkers, that nice British guy at Target) to make it through my day and I am attached to my monthly planner.

I share a monthly planning app on my phone with my husband for joint stuff, but I am old school to the core and love to write it down. It is a process for me… it relaxes me to put in on paper and read it when I need to. I hold a lot of titles and I do a lot with my time. I need help keeping it all together, down to what I plan to cook to where I need to be at any given time. I like to set goals and I like check them off as I accomplish them.

Plus who doesn’t look forward to buying ANYTHING from Target. Especially their stationary and craft supplies; they have really stepped it up in that department. I get inspired walking around there sometimes.

In regards to anxiety, I find that having a plan keeps my mind on track and keeps me working on what I am supposed to be. It also has allowed to me let go of the feeling that I need to vacuum or dust all the time (for example). I know that I am going to tackle those exact jobs on their designated day, and I can move my focus to whatever else it is I need to, or want to depending on the day! Like today, writing!

I planned this schedule out very carefully. It fits my current schedule perfectly and is flexible all at the same time. Look at today, I saved my day for writing for a day that I know the household chores would be done and a day that dad would be available for an extended to amount of time to take the baton and make sure Charlotte stays alive. Heavy planning that if you notice, isn’t driven by the hands on the clock. I still feel in control, and relaxed enough to bust out something enjoyable for my readers.

Having this routine for the last month has brought down my stress level. I live in a larger house now, not much larger, but a bit larger in square footage and with more rooms. There is just more to do in the area of cleaning. I like a clean house, and even though my husband would say “I don’t really care one way or the other” or something to that affect, he likes the house clean too. He is compulsively doing the dishes.

I quickly realized it takes a LONG time getting this sucker clean. I also realized that in keeping with my 2016 goals, that you can check out in my post http://suburbanmishap.com/the-year-i-took-for-myself/, I decided to break it up into days. More than that, I needed to break up the deeper cleaning and not go bat-shit bananas over a little dust or toothe paste in the sink. I don’t have to pull out the rubber gloves every time I need to clean up just a little.

The cleaning and appointment/errand day routine was born and boom, I sleep better at night.

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The Year I Took for Myself

This will be known as the year I took for myself. I really started this over-due and difficult journey last year, but I am making it my official goal this year. Yes I set goals, and yes I stick to them. It is how my brain is wired. Now before you say, “I wish I was like that” read through a few recent post and then decide.

I am the person who wakes up and really enjoys writing out the days plans with her morning cups of joe. Yes you read that correctly, it takes multiple cups and I enjoy making list.

Anyway, I am taking this year to work on myself, do what makes me happy and find out what else makes me happy.

To accomplish this goal, I have to let go of a few things and change the way I think. For example, for some reason I have put people liking me really high on my list of importance. I must have,  because I really do care if people like me. Way too much. I over analyze every relationship I have ever had, nightly. Ok, not really nightly, but I do it far more than I would like.

I am the person who really wishes Facebook required a reason before they allowed you to use the unfriend option. It’s fucked up Facebook, really, it is. I need to know why this person who has requested or accepted a social media friendship contract and has abruptly ended it without my permission. I have to know WHY!

I digress…

I do know that in order for me to keep myself sane and moving forward I need to stop wasting the energy it takes giving a shit whether or not people like me. I need to stop working on this facade of perfection I have built. It’s wearing me the fuck down. I can’t keep all my ‘friendships’ afloat by myself and I need to recognize a dead friendship when I see one.

During our 6-month apartment stay, I was on a low. Let’s call it that. During that time I was forced to deal with some real mental health type issues. After losing too much weight, having a couple panic attacks and bickering day and night with Chris, I knew it was time to get my ass in gear and deal with this issue I knew would surface one day.

Let’s be real for a second. The odds have always been stacked against me in the mental health department. What I mean by this is that I am genetically predisposed to anxiety and depression, and I have enough childhood trauma to fill a two-day Dr. Phil episode.

Let’s not ignore the other elephant in the room. Having a child really pushes you to the edge sometimes. Having a tiny two-year old who knows everything and loves to hide really really well is tough you guys. With the sleep deprivation, constant mini-heart attacks and putting yourself on the back-burner (or what you perceive as the back-burner) can really begin to wear even the sanest person down.

So, in 2016 I have made it my point to get mentally strong, physically strong and emotionally strong. The plan to get myself there is pretty simple. Stop putting other people first, say no when I really want to, no more one-sided friendships, simplify my life (more to follow there) and spend time doing things that feed my soul like working out, going on dates with my husband and learning how to garden. And read, I remember enjoying that too.

My mom would be proud of me and that makes me feel good. So far my confidence is returning, my marriage is stronger for it and damn it feels good to sit in traffic and not want to take my skin off and walk home.

So join in my journey, take some time for you, and maybe learn a thing or two.

 

That was totally an accident and totally lame.

 

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What Holidays Mean After Kids

it I realize that some small kids are just gems when they are out in public. They are quiet, responsive and respectful of people. Some small kids can go grocery shopping without crying or losing a shoe. And most kids can make it through the check-out line without screaming bloody murder when the cashier says hello or makes eye contact for too long.

Well, after 15 months I have come to the conclusion that I don’t have that kid.

No, my sweet daughter is very particular with how she spends her time outside the house. If she is not having fun doing whatever it is we need to do, then she is over it in about 15 minutes.

So, she is not a huge fan of shopping or eating out and she sure as hell does not have time for anything outside the house after 7 pm.

But, like most new parents we try every time. Every damn time.

I have started finding it a little amusing when people ask me what our big plans are for the holiday weekend or asking what we did after the fact. Because reality is, we have taken our first-born to something fun on every holiday and it has bombed in some way every time. The only time we considered  it a “success” was Easter, and she cried all the way home because she was exhausted.

So in normal fashion, we dressed in our festive attire and found something family friendly to do on the Fourth of July. On Saturday we had a big breakfast together, then I toted her around the grocery store, followed by the pool and then finally to a festival with activities for kids. She hated it all except the grocery store and that was because she rode around in the kid’s car shopping cart. I am unclear as to why I have never used that damn cart before. Or as to why they only have 3.

We were at the festival for about 40 minutes before calling it quits. It took longer to drive there and park. During that time we walked around the grounds with her pointing at everything, dancing, singing, trying to get her to run around, trying to get her to eat either french fries, ice cream or her favorite food, yogurt. Nothing worked for her, she was not getting jazzed about anything. Part of me didn’t blame her either. It was hot, loud and not much she could really get into.
Fourth of July

 

We ran into another couple with the same attitude about celebrating the holiday with a toddler during our brief attempts to eat. Coincidentally we found ourselves walking to our prospective cars at the same time.

I suppose we keep trying because we think it will enrich her childhood somehow. And maybe a little part of us still thinks ‘it could be fun.’

July Fourth with Dad

So that is how my holiday weekend pretty much went.

Breaking News: Step-parents Matter

I think one of the most challenging things someone can do is to take on the responsibilities of someone else’s child. Becoming a step-parent is a big deal, and should be treated as such. I mean, I don’t think I am alone in thinking that. Having a child of your own is a big decision and responsibility, so taking on the responsibility of a child that is not your own is definitely a big deal.

Kids are hard, and often the ones we share DNA with are a challenge to handle. So I can only imagine what it must be like to handle a step-child. Add on factors such as rocky relationships between biological parents, distance between parents, difference in parenting styles among parents, siblings… I mean the list can go on.

Blended families are a dime a dozen now; the Brady Bunch is no long a novelty. So people are faced with the decision to not only get married, but to become a step-parent pretty frequently in today’s society. I don’t feel like it is really ‘taboo’ to get divorced and remarried. I joke about starter marriages all the time. As a matter of fact, I am a member of that club, since 2003. Or 2002, I forget now. I was a baby bride.

Anyway, my point is this. Getting remarried often means blended family. Children are hard to hide, so a potential spouse has to know that children are a part of the package. So why are there still step-parents that are ass hats? If you hate the prospective spouses kids, why would you take them on to be your own? If you can’t handle all the kid(s), have issues with the kid(s), or just don’t want the added responsibility, why go forth?

The relationship parents have with their kids is important; this is not breaking news. Step-parents are important and the relationship they have with their step-children matters. Not to go too far off on a rant, the rocky relationships I have had with my own step-parents has greatly impacted who I am today.  

I just don’t understand it, to put it simply. I just don’t understand committing to someone who has a child or children and being a terrible step-parent to them as if they don’t matter. I know there has to be a period of adjustment, so I can see how it isn’t rainbows and butterflies right off the bat. But a continuously shitty step-parent with zero desire the work on it is something I can’t get on board with, or understand for that matter.

Why commit to that person. Is it with the assumption that you won’t really have much interaction with the step-child so it doesn’t really matter? Unless they are 17 going on 18 and moving out, I don’t see who that is valid thinking.

I just believe that all kids matter and how you treat them greatly impacts who they become.

Is this one of those ‘walk a mile in my shoe’ type things?