Blending families

Blending


Rob and I had a conversation last night about being a blended family now. And though we are that, aren’t all families really? Even when there are no children involved, there is still a coming together of two sets of relatives that somehow have to learn to exist within the same sphere even if it is only at holidays and children’s birthday parties.

Jordan and Farron, Rob’s girls, have done a tremendous job with making Katy feel as though she is their little sister. Neither one has ever disputed her when she has announced their sisterhood to whomever was listening. They listen to her. Play with her. And tease her as though she has always been a part of their lives. They have made me feel welcome too, and I haven’t felt as though it was just politeness on their part even though it more than likely was in the beginning maybe still is sometimes. A friend of mine whose husband has a now grown daughter from an earlier marriage told me that from the very beginning she resolved to think of her husband’s daughter as her own and treat her accordingly. The girl lived with her mother, but my friend felt that using words like “stepdaughter” implied a difference that was negative. Her “daughter” does not call her mom nor did she ever expect her to, but she references the girl as “my daughter” or “our daughter” because she feels that terminology is reflective of attitude. I took that to heart. She is right. “Step” is a prefix that has been demonized in fairy tales and movies. It’s a “bad word” even with good intentions. When I talk about Jordan and Farron, I say “the girls” or “Rob’s daughters”. I don’t ever plan to use “step”.

Katy, my little girl with Will, does not know the correct terminology for blended families. She references “Daddy Will” and “Rob” or “Daddy Rob” and lately she has been calling Rob just “Daddy” on and off. She is not confused. She knows who everyone is and how they are related to her, but in her simple (and it’s never really been) reality, things are what they are. Rob and Mom are getting married which will make him her father and his girls her sisters. Small children have such wisdom it makes you wonder what awful things we do to them that empties them of so much of it as they grow older.

I don’t want to imply that all this merging has been easy or will not have bumps as we continue through the years. As I have blogged before, nothing is simple about moving forward. It’s difficult when it is just you and moreso when there are others involved, but life and living are primarily about our interactions with others, spouses and children being primary and branching out in importance from there.

Once upon a time it was just me. And then I married Will and we added Katy. Will died and it was just Kate and I until Rob and with Rob I gained his girls and he gained Katy. And now there are five.

Being a Single Mom


"Under the horse chestnut tree", 1 p...

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I have never pretended that I ever wanted to parent on my own. As a matter of fact when I turned 31, I actually spent a few months comtemplating  single parenthood. Not because it was becoming a trendy thing, but because I really couldn’t imagine not having a child of my own. I came to the conclusion though that it was too daunting a task and much too unfair to a child to go it alone. 

 

Imagine my surprise when the fates went ahead and made a single mom of me anyway.

 

It isn’t that I am not good at it. I am commended right and left for what a wonderful child I have, but I often wonder if they are merely saying that and the unspoken part of the sentence is “for not having a father..” Because the truth is that my little girl is headstrong and spoiled. I have been too distracted and too tired and just too grief-stricken to hold the lines that needed holding as often as they should have been held.

 

Case in point is that she still sleeps with me. She has slept with me almost from the beginning. I am assured by other two parent families that children do sleep with their parents. It is more common than the majority let on and that eventually they all sleep on their own.

 

I feel like a failure nonetheless.

 

Neither I nor any of my siblings ever slept with our parents in their bed. Their bedroom as a matter of fact was strictly off-limits. I have memories of hovering in the doorway to their room and asking to be allowed in. Even in the middle of the night. Even if I was ill. I never even tried to broach the door if I had a bad dream. I would just pull the covers over my head and grip them tightly to prevent whatever monster I had dreamt of from gaining entry.

 

I bring this up only because I worry that this bad habit I have left to its own devices will become more of an issue once the summer comes and we are in Canada with Rob. He is patient when it comes to my parenting skills, but he is far and away the expert. It must take quite a toll on his inner Virgo to tactfully approach subjects concerning my daughter. 

 

We had a semi-conversation about sleeping arrangements tonight on the phone, and although he brought up nothing I hadn’t already thought about, I still felt bad afterwards because I know firsthand that no one was ever meant to do this by themselves.

 

I wonder more often than not who she would be if there had been two of us raising her.