The Good, The Bad & The Ugly
Wednesday, November 1, 2006 at 06:58PM Being a step-mom has both its rewards and worries which are completely different from the rewards and worries you have with your own child. I often wonder just what kind of influence I am having on my husband’s children. And, whether my sudden presence in their lives is an overall good thing or a not so good thing. Their family life obviously changed when I met their dad, in more subtle ways than just having to now share their father as well as gaining a sister. They come and stay with us every other weekend. So, half of their weekends are spent in the city, with vagrants walking the street and gunshots going off in the night, just to mention a few of the new flavors added to their lives. But, then they also get to see the diverse culture and the open-mindedness that also are found here.
Yet, I can’t help but worry. Over the past few years my husband and I have been together, I have watched them go from preteens to budding young ladies, and can see some of the changes in them have a direct line to me. I just hope they are good, positive changes in the long run, because at this point, they cannot be undone.
Some of my influence I am completely aware of, and know it is positive. Like the time the oldest one and I were watching Trading Spaces. She turned and asked me how much money carpenters make. I asked her why she would want to know that. She said she would some day want a nice house like the one on TV, so she wanted to know if it would be worth it to marry a carpenter. I told her I wasn’t sure what carpenters made, but am almost certain architects make even more money, and with her artistic talent and great style, she would make a great architect.
Oh, Yeah!
Some of my influence is just by accident, and yet I know it is positive as well. Like the time they were counting how many people they met from foreign countries at our New Year’s eve party. Or, the time we went to Borders to get the books on their summer reading lists. As they rattled off the titles, I told them where to find them. Bronte, B. Atwood, A. Orwell, O. Miller, M… I saw the looks on their faces, looks which I would like to interpret as, “I want to be able to do that someday.”
Oh, sweeeeet!
And then there are the questionable instances. These are the ones that make me worry. And cringe. Again, some of them I am completely aware of and apologize for up front. Like the time I took them to the New Year’s block party. I kindly asked them to refrain from sharing with their mother the small fact that I was taking them to a drunken spectacle, yet alone the reason we were heading there so late at night was due to the small fact that we had to wait until their father finished his online poker tournament.
Oh, well.
Those times I can more or less handle. It is when I am suddenly made aware of the less obvious shady elements I have added to their lives. The ones I am completely oblivious to until it is brought to my attention. Like the time when the oldest was so excited to tell me how she won a contest hands down, thanks to me, for having the weirdest family. And, her recounting of this winning description started out with, “First of all, my step mom is a total bad ass.”
Oh. My.
Or, the time we were stopped at a read light and a pimped out low rider car, blasting pulsating music pulled up beside us. I heard the youngest in the back seat casually say to herself, in my exact words, “There goes another ghetto youth without a life. He should try reading a book now and then.”
Oh. Dear.
Then there are the times that can go either way. Like that Saturday morning we all sat around the kitchen table singing Queen songs to Piper. After several fist of hysterics, the oldest makes a comment about how her friends will just get a kick out her baby sister banging the table to “We will, we will rock you.”
Oh, cool.
Then the youngest chimes in, reminding her to add the little tidbit of how Piper clapped and giggled each time I sang the only line I could remember from “Bohemian Rhapsody”:
“Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head. Pulled the trigger, now he’s dead.”
Oh. Shit.
Momish
I have to apologize to CrankMama! This post did not come out of the blue. In fact, I actually refrain from writing about my step family since I often don’t feel it is my place to “talk about them”. After reading CrankMama’s post Blended, Not Broken, it got me to thinking. One of the biggest concerns for me being a step parent is the worry about the influence I have over them, thus this post. But, thanks to your comments, I feel a lot better now. I still worry though, it’s my job as a mom, after all. Thanks for the inspiration, CrankMama. And sorry for the belated kudos!
Reader Comments (8)