The DHX: The Doughtie Houses Exchange

• CoolMom: Second-Hand Husbands
• Becoming a Stepmom: Smackdown for Stepmoms: Visualize Your Ideal Stepfamily

Kathy and me at our local Obama campaign party.

We were there with the kids, with G, with Kathy’s partner, and with our friends.

• StevePavilina.com: Soulful Relationships - “…the best we can do with our lives is to achieve the point of optimal balance whereby serving our own needs and serving the whole body are congruent… Interdependence is a higher level of consciousness than independence.  Fear serves the latter; fearlessness, the former.”  (more) 
• Oprah.com: Meditations for Interacting with Others – Guided meditations on forgiveness and lovingkindness by Jack Kornfield. (link)

Tags: forgiveness, lovingkindness, meditation

Even after all these years,
the Sun never says
to the Earth
“You owe Me.”

Look what happens
with a Love
like that,
It lights
the whole
sky.

–Hafiz

“Sometimes I go about pitying myself,
and all the time
I am being carried on great winds across the sky.” 

– Chippewa song

“Remember, we are all affecting the world every moment, whether we mean to or not. Our actions and states of mind matter, because we are so deeply interconnected with one another. Working on our own consciousness is the most important thing that we are doing at any moment, and being love is a supreme creative act.” –Ram Dass (by way of Rob Brezsny)

A comment to the “Wicked Step Mother” post I wrote awhile ago has been disturbing me for the past few days. I already replied within that thread, but I feel that this topic requires more open discussion.

The comment is that maybe it’s not in a woman’s DNA to love someone else’s kids, and that maybe it’s like the bear cubs who get eaten by the other mothers in the den when their own mothers die. (Actually, it seems that even mother bears will refuse to care for their own offspring so personally I’m shying away from trying to emulate ursine mothering strategies.)

Over the past six months I’ve been in a relationship with a man who has a son about 3 years older than my oldest boy, Chris. As the relationship has developed, I’ve become closer to this young man, who is about to go away to college. Now, granted, I’m not being asked to wipe the dribble off his face or take him to playdates. And yet, if I were, I would do it completely joyously and enthusiastically.

I LOVE this kid. I have felt a strong protective instinct towards him from the first time I met him. This transcends the relationship I have with his father, or the friendship I have with his mother (who is an amazing woman and I adore her). Protective is the only word that really describes it — along with admiration, pride, gratitude that he’s on the planet, and a joy that my life has been graced with the ability to intersect his. The only other people I feel like that about are my own two kids. It’s instinctive, it’s true, it’s deep, and it’s real.

I do understand that there are many situations out there where the step-mother/children chemistries don’t work, and it’s tragic and it’s painful and sometimes it’s just downright impossible to work through. The issues at work seem to be bigger, however. A family is a constellation of people, all of whom are bringing their fears and hopes and projections into the home.

I AM capable of loving another person’s child. Jill loves my kids. And I know many other examples where it is possible to love other people’s children. If a family dynamic doesn’t seem to be working, I totally get that it is is tempting (and a lot more safe) to assign the blame on a genetic imperative. But maybe it just means the dynamic doesn’t seem to be working. Which is good, because that means maybe there’s a way to get in under the hood and do some tinkering.

I just had to say that out loud. I know what it’s like to be a step-mom these days, too.

I have deer-in-the-headlight moments when meeting people with step-situations, too. Yesterday I met someone with a similar — but different — family set-up, and I couldn’t think of how to keep the conversation going. I found myself sitting there smiling blankly while thinking up things to say and then ruling them out because I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t accidentally go in a very painful-for-them direction. Gah!

I get it. It’s just not a situation most people are prepared for. You’re on the spot. You’ve got to do some fancy social footwork on the fly and without a safe script. There are so many ways to put your foot in your mouth or to verbally poke someone in an under the surface gaping wound. So, to help all the stepmoms mingling in kid-centered situations, and to help all the lovely people who meet them, I thought I’d start a list of things to say to keep the conversation going when meeting a stepmom in your wider community circle (not in your family) for the first time.

The easy stuff:

1. “How many kids or stepkids do you have?”
2. “How old are they?” [Then talk about that age in general for kids. "That's a great age. They're so much fun at that age." "Wow! That's a challenging age! How's it going?"]
3. Say something complimentary about her stepkids, if you know them. ["Joe is a great team player." "Jane was so articulate during her presentation on what it takes to become a veterinarian. She's so confident. That's really wonderful. It was a great presentation."]
4. Say something pleasant or appreciative about your kid’s relationship with her stepkid, if they have one. ["Robert loves playing soccer/Monopoly/Rock Band with Joe." "Marissa tells me she and Julie spend a lot of time at school drawing together."]
5. Talk about the event. ["The music this year is great/funny/interesting/so strange!" "The other team is really strong -- they're giving us run for our money."]
6. Talk about the community group. ["What do you think of the new coach?" "How does Christine like her class this year?"]

Bonus points:

1. If she’s new to the school/community group, introduce her to a few other people.
2. If there’s a sitting down portion of the event, invite her to sit with you, or if you see her — or her and her husband — sitting alone, ask if you can join her or them.
3. If there’s an organized activity part of the event, ask her if she would like to join your group.
4. Next time you run into her, smile and say hi.

A little bit trickier, but potentially good stuff (use your judgement):

1. Jokingly say, “Stepmom! So, you get all the responsibility that comes with parenting and none of the recognition!” This gives her a chance to laugh and tell you that it’s not really like that — how much she loves the kids and how great the kids’ mom and dad both are, but yeah, at events like this stepmoms sometimes feel kind of invisible or awkward — or it gives her a chance to say, “Yeah, it feels kind of like that sometimes!” Either way she feels seen, visible, understood and appreciated. The elephant in the room — the thing that makes people smile blankly while trying to think of things to say — gets touched on in a light way. But it also opens up the door for her to talk about potentially painful stuff in her experience. You might move from small talk to serious talk. One problem with this is that you might alienate the mom a little, if she’s in the community group, too, and she’s sensitive to this kind of joking. If you think that’s a possibility, I wouldn’t recommend going with this one.
2. Ask her how long she’s been a stepmom. If she seems grateful or pleased at the chance to tell you, ask her how it’s going or what it’s like. Don’t stick too long on this if you’ve just met her, though. If she doesn’t seem too into answering the “how long” question, move back to saying something nice about her stepkid and then just talk about the event or group or venue.
3. If you had a stepmom who you loved, or you know someone who does, or if you have any similar warm, fuzzy stepmom validation nugget — tell her. ["My friend Joy had a stepmom when she was growing up. She says it was really great to have that extra love in her life." "My cousin had a stepmom. When I was a kid, I'd go over and play and she'd play Chutes and Ladders with us. It was cool. I have good memories of that."]

For the easy small talk, focus on the kids and the venue. For the trickier stuff, gently provide a little bit of conversational space for her to talk in a casual way about being a stepmom, or say nice things about stepmoms in general.

Tags: community, school, small talk, stepmoms, stepmothers, stepparents

The people who know Kathy best in the world tend to be pretty nice to me. They seem to like me, accept me and welcome me. And I love that. And I love them for that. And plus, I just like them. Kathy has great friends.

The people who know Kathy more than they know me, but who are maybe more casual friends or less often in touch friends or friendly acquaintances — those people seem a little more wary. And it’s weird for me. I’m not used to having people’s first reaction to meeting me be wariness. I’m not used to the unconscious immediate shape other people sense around me being one that looks a little dangerous or menacing or scary or hurtful.

And when I meet people who don’t know Kathy, if I mention that I’m a stepmom (if it seems relevant — say I’m meeting them at a school event or outside a music lesson, for example), the reaction is usually the same. Wariness. People get suddenly quiet. They look uncomfortable. They look away. The conversation ends abruptly.

It’s not the same if I leave the stepmom part out. It’s not the same at all. If I leave the stepmom part out, small talk is no problem. People I’ve just met look open and interested. We find things we have in common. We usually part with smiles and friendly ideas about each other, whether or not we ever plan to run into each other again or think we’d make good friends.

Whhhyyyyyyyyyyy????????????

Maybe it’s because people don’t know what to say. Maybe they feel like I’m laying something heavy on them when we’re barely acquaintances. Maybe there’s no safe, standard, conversation building small-talk response. (If that’s the case, maybe we should invent some.) Maybe they’re afraid of wandering into the middle of an extended stepfamily minefield. (”If I’m friendly with the stepmom, that might make the mom mad or hurt or uncomfortable. People might get unpleasantly emotional. I barely know anyone here myself and don’t want to start off in the middle of a fight. I don’t even know the mom or the dad or the situation. I don’t want to take sides.” That sort of thing.) Maybe it’s that I represent something scary: divorce, moving on, remarriage, and then having to share children with an adult you didn’t pick. Who wants to think about that? Any of it? I wouldn’t either. It’s horrifying in the abstract. It’s not so horrifying in real life. And that’s scary, too, in and of itself. And here I am, an in-the-flesh representative of it. I might look away and end a conversation abruptly, too, in other shoes. I might not be able to think of anything to say, either.

Sometimes I feel really lonely. And hypersensitive. And a little scared. Around mommy bloggers. And at some real-life school events. I hate feeling rejected or left out or invisible or shunned or radioactive.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t always feel that way. People can be surprising and warm and welcoming. But I do feel this way much more in woman-centered and kid-centered events than I did before I became a stepmom. Men don’t particularly seem to care, which is wonderful, but not that helpful. I’m not usually looking for a bunch of new guy friends. I’m usually looking to connect with other women — the mommies (married, divorced, remarried — you name it), the stepmoms, the aunties — the women with kids in their lives.

What to do about it? Well, the only thing I can think of right now is to resolve that when I’m out and about, I will not see scary shapes and blind spots too uncomfortable to focus on. I will see people. I can try not to pass this particular kind of pain on. Not by being a do-gooder, but by trying to see people as people — not as scary symbols — much more often. And when I’m feeling it myself, I’ll try to get my mind off myself by looking for anyone else who might be feeling it for other reasons and see if I can strike up a little human-to-human connection — even if it’s just eye-contact, or a friendly smile (if it’s real), or small talk. When I’m feeling that particular kind of pain, I can try to use it as a prompt override my hide-and-melt tendencies and reach out in a way that might help me and someone else, too.

The other thing I’ll do (hey that’s two things!) is that I’ll love the heck out of the people who interact with me primarily in my stepmom role, but who still see me instead of a scary blurry spot. Like Kathy’s friends, for starters.

What else to do about it? I’m not sure yet. I want to be able to introduce myself as a stepmom and have the conversation keep growing and expanding and bubbling along in the comfortable way it would if I had been a mom or an aunt or a godparent — or just silent about what I really was — instead.

There is a lot of talk in the blog world about the pain of stepfamily life. And stepfamily life can be painful, but pain isn’t the whole story any more than it is the whole story of life in general.

What we have between our two houses is good. It isn’t conventional. It doesn’t look like a scene from a J. Crew catalog, but it’s beautiful.

We have a team. We have a safety net. We have a network. We have connection. We have each other’s backs.

We also have disagreements and misunderstandings and hurt, but we listen, and we try again. We tell the truth. We self-examine. We let each other figure things out for ourselves on our own. We come back to the circle. We actively, consciously choose to see each other as human, over and over. We are vulnerable to each other, and we reach out to each other.

We have a connection we can’t sever. Instead of getting tied up in knots about it, we try to use it as a strength. And we are very strong when we work together. Like a braid.

What we have doesn’t really have a name. The best I’ve come up with so far is close extended stepfamily. We’re connected by children and by marriage. We aren’t one nuclear family. Are we two families? We don’t feel as far apart as two nuclear families. We’re more like two nuclei enclosed in one cell wall.

Whatever we are, we’re family. We’re family and we’re not broken. Maybe we’re a little bit mutated, though. In a good way.